24. Chapter Twenty-four

The wind howled around them, and the temperature seemed to have dropped ten degrees in the last ten minutes. They should have left the beach at the very first clap of thunder, but Evan had been enjoying his time with Katrina too much to let it end. And who knew when he would again have a chance to be alone with her since Harrington was being a complete arse.

The second Evan saw her walking toward him; his heart had somersaulted. Then she'd arranged herself beside him as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to sit in the grass in her lovely gown. If that were not a big enough shock, she'd drawn him naked. At least, he was ninety-eight percent sure the backside was his. How grand it would be if she conjured up images of his bare arse on a whim. Unless… Had she seen his naked arse as he stood on the beach stretching?

Bloody hell! Had Lady Katrina spied on him on one of his swimming ventures? If so, how delicious.

Their feet splashed in inches of water as a river of runoff rushed past them. Lightning zig-zagged across the sky, the ground shook, thunder crackled, and Katrina squeaked. He clasped her hand and tugged her beneath the closest eave. Water poured from the overhang, blocking the view of the street. At least for the moment, they were out of the downpour. Another flash of lightning shot across the sky, and the thunder echoed.

Evan hugged the soaked Katrina to him. She snuggled against his chest, his ruined sketchpad between them.

Unfortunately, he didn't expect the storm to abate anytime soon. Fortunately, the eave they were tucked beneath belonged to an inn. Not a fancy inn like Justine's, and not an establishment a woman like Katrina would ever step foot in, but at least it was not a brothel. Most importantly, it was dry. They could simply rent a room and wait out the deluge. They really should since lightning was dangerous, and the poor woman was drenched. She might catch her death.

Pfft. Who was he kidding? It wasn't as if they were in some romantic novel where everyone caught fevers from chills and died. The dashed truth was he wanted to be alone with her. And if the way she clung to him right now was any indication, she also desired his company.

"Katrina?"

"Hmm?" She snuggled into his chest. "'Tis nice. Watching the storm."

He chuckled. "But we cannot see a blasted thing through this torrent."

"I know, but I like being here with you."

To think mere days ago, she'd given him a list of his reprehensible qualities.

"I'm so sorry your sketchpad is ruined," she said.

So was he, mostly because it contained pictures of her, not to mention their special sketch. He reluctantly dropped his arms and stepped back.

"I will be back in one moment."

"Wh-where aa-re you g-going?" she asked, her teeth chattering.

He hated to leave her there for even a second, but it would not do to have someone catch them entering the establishment together. Not that people of their class would be frequenting this place. But one never knew, and they did not need one more thing that Greyson could hold over their heads.

"I am going to get us a room so that you can dry off." They could also be alone and talk and maybe, just maybe… Hell's bells, he was a lecherous chap. "I will also borrow a parapluie so that you can get to the entrance without having to endure more of this." He grimaced at the water cascading in front of them.

Her giggle tickled his heart.

"I do not think a rainshade is necessary at this point." She swept her hand down her body, indicating the damp skirt molding to her shapely legs.

He should not gawk since it was an inconvenient time for a cockstand. "I do not want anyone to see us entering together," he said.

"I understand." She nodded. "Please hurry back."

If he gave into his instincts and kissed her here and now, he'd never let go of her. Thereupon, when the rain stopped, the entirety of Brighton would see them in an untoward embrace.

"I will be quick. I promise." Without chancing a glance at her, he dashed through the waterfall and headed toward the inn's entrance.

Evan dropped a dry towel and his ruined sketchpad onto a chair and then shone the lamp into every corner. How fortunate that the room was more charming than he'd anticipated. Simple and clean with a large bed and nightstand along one wall. Baskets and dried flowers hung from pegs on the opposite wall. And the best part? Katrina was with him.

Holding the candle close to the mirror above the nightstand, she turned her head from side to side, studying her reflection. Thereupon, she placed the candle beside a washbasin and removed her pearl hairpins. Long, wet strands unraveled, cascading down her back. Gathering her honey-colored waves, she draped them over one shoulder. She toed off her slippers, then gracefully swung around to face Evan.

Raindrops dripped down her forehead, and her dress clung to her body. Her gaze met his, and she beamed. The smile was short-lived because thunder crackled, startling them both. Seconds later, she shivered uncontrollably.

He should get her out of her wet clothing. For health reasons of course. And if seduction came with the undressing, all the better.

But Harrington will kill you.

To the devil with Harrington. With a full body shake, he rid his mate from his thoughts. Now, he was only aware of her. The beautiful woman standing before him, her gaze raking over him as if he were a sweetmeat. Her perusal halted, and her eyes widened.

He peered down to see what held her attention. The outline of his engorged cock was evident beneath his drenched trousers.

Her tantalizing tongue darted out of her mouth, and she licked her top lip before clenching her bottom lip between her teeth. A rush of red traveled up her neck and shoulders until her cheeks bloomed scarlet. At least they appeared to be flame-colored in the poor lighting. And Lord above, his entire body burned.

He hung the lantern on one of the pegs and then draped the linen over his shoulders. Holding her gaze, he sauntered to her.

"We should get you out of your wet frock and dry you off," he said.

Nodding, she turned her back to him. It took him a moment to realize she wanted him to unbutton her dress. Damn, he was a besotted imbecile in her presence.

He took his time, luxuriating in each inch of creamy skin exposed as his fingers deftly worked the pearl fasteners. He pushed the fabric past her shoulders, and over her hips, until it tumbled to the floor to pool around her ankles. Her shift followed.

He pressed his front against her back, deliberately taking forever to untie and rid her of stays. He looped his fingers in her undergarments and slid them down her legs before stepping back to take in her perfection.

The line of feminine curves started at her shoulder. His gaze followed it down, past her shoulder blades, lingering on the delicate dip at her waist. Traveling lower, he took in the swell of her hips. Lower still, were two crescent-shaped arse cheeks. Then those long legs. Christ, she had lovely legs.

He swallowed his moan. There was no way he would paw at her as if he was a wild animal. The plan was to see to her every pleasure while he made love to her.

He gently guided her so that she faced him before falling to his knees in front of her.

Seeming unaware of her sensuality, the naked goddess stood before him, digging her toe into the carpet. Lips parted, breaths shallow, and eyelashes fluttering, she peered down at him. He leaned forward and kissed the smooth flesh on each thigh. His face level with the curls protecting her mound, he inhaled her scent. Memories of feasting on her as he drank her desire bombarded him. Come to think of it, he had not had any sustenance in hours. He'd taste her again soon, but for now, he must be patient.

Unwrapping the towel from his shoulders, he dried Katrina, her little mewls of pleasure indicating she enjoyed his ministrations. Starting with the tops of her feet, he worked his way up. Her calves. Her knees. Those shapely thighs. Her feminine belly.

But he mustn't forget her sweet-as-summer-berries cunny. Grinning, he changed directions and pressed the towel to her mound. She sucked in a breath. As desperate as he was for her, he could not control his impulse to taunt. He massaged, but only just enough to make her writhe and gasp before moving on. Pushing onto his feet, he lavished his full attention on her breasts and nipples. The pink tips pebbled. Soon, very soon, he'd take them between his teeth and nibble.

He circled behind her, the towel searching for raindrops. Truth be told, he'd taken so long that she had dried a while ago, but that did not stop him from rubbing the fabric in slow circles as she sighed with pleasure.

He ached to touch her skin to skin. He dropped the towel and pulled her against him.

"My God, Katrina. You will be the death of me."

"You are still wet," she said.

By Jove, he was soaked indeed. And pressing his sopping clothes against her skin that he'd just warmed. What a foolish man he could be. He let go of her and stepped back.

Her eyelids dropped seductively as her gaze heated him to his bones. The cheeky chit had drawn him naked, so perhaps she'd enjoy watching him strip.

It was excruciating to unfasten one button at a time when he wanted to rip his shirt to shreds and press their naked torsos together. But her hiss as his shirt fell to the floor was worth every extra second. Locking his gaze with hers, he sat on the bed and removed his boots and stockings. Their stares remained intense as he stood and slid his trousers down his legs. Rejoicing when set free, his cock bounced and quivered, then stretched toward her.

She gasped, then swallowed. "Oh, my."

So much for slow seduction. His willpower snapped, and he leaped upon her, entwining his fingers in her hair and tugging her head back.

She closed her eyes and moaned.

With his next tug, his tongue was in her mouth. Swirling. Exploring. Tasting. She matched his passionate desperation. He could stay in this room, kissing this woman forever. Yes, forever. And even that would not be long enough because he needed so much more. Like his cock buried so deep inside her that they were one.

Resting his chin on her shoulder, he inhaled her hair. "You smell so bloody good." Like summer air, fresh rainwater, and roses.

Her gaze dropped to his engorged cock. "May I touch it?"

"Indeed, and please."

He guided her hand to his rod, and together they stroked. Flames shot from his shaft to his balls.

"I adore it," she said, her voice husky with need. "Your skin is so soft, but you are so hard." The minx had again bested him in the game of seduction. She squealed as he threw her over his shoulder, carried her to the bed, and then tossed her onto the center of the mattress.

At long last, he would sink into her velvet folds as they listened to the storm outside rage.