Page 83 of His Improper Lady

There were few words after that, only a murmur of pleasure or a whispered name as they kissed and caressed, all the hunger of the past few days unleashed. And if Tom’s fingers on her buttons were clumsy or her touch untutored, neither of them noticed or cared.

Pleasure rushed through Desiree as Tom kissed her, leaving her mouth to nip at her ear and explore her throat. All the while, he unfastened the long line of buttons down the back of her dress, and Desiree wished she had worn something less fashionable—and easier to discard—today. But at least the dress didn’t require a corset; given the things that had been happening, she had taken to wearing something that would allow her more freedom of movement.

The dress sagged open, falling farther apart with each button, until finally it slid down over her petticoats to pool at her feet. Then his hand was on the bare skin of her upper back, her flesh tingling at the glide of his skin over hers. He slid his hands down over the thin cotton of her camisole and up beneath the hem of the garment, his fingertips hot and slightly rough against her skin.

Desiree trembled at his touch and pressed herself more tightly against him, her kiss deepening. But she ached to feel his body beneath her hands, so finally she pulled away, her fingers going to the buttons of his waistcoat. He helped her by shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it away, then working at the cuffs of his shirt.

His waistcoat open, she started on his shirt’s buttons, wondering why men found it necessary to wear so many items of clothing. Then at last his shirt was open, exposing the bare strip of skin down the center of his chest, and her fingers went under the shirt, roaming his skin, exploring the hard ridges of his ribs and the firm muscles that padded his chest.

Tom hissed in his breath as she pressed her lips against his chest. Her mouth moved down the central line of his sternum. Desiree teased a pattern across his skin with her tongue, learning the faintly salty taste of him, and the faint moan she wrung from him increased her own pleasure.

She touched his flat masculine nipples, and, remembering the feel of his mouth on her breast, she twined her tongue around the small hard buds, first one, then the other. His body jerked in response, and he dug his fingers into her hair, sending hairpins flying and her thick hair tumbling down.

Desiree lifted her head. His eyes were bright blue, his face slack with passion. For a moment, he gazed down into her eyes, as if he could see straight to the center of her soul, then he bent to take her mouth in a fierce kiss, claiming and offering, taking and giving in a torrent of heat.

Pulling back, Tom swept Desiree up in his arms and carried her across the room to the bed. Setting her down beside it, he stepped back, toeing off his shoes and ripping his open shirt off his shoulders to drop it on the floor. Desiree, watching him, matched his movements, reaching down to the hem of her chemise and pulling it up and off over her head.

The sight of her stopped his movements. His eyes dropped to her breasts, hunger flooding his face. He covered her breasts with his hands, gently squeezing and caressing. He swept his hands down and back, linking his arms beneath her bottom and lifting her up to take one of her nipples in his mouth. He loved it long and attentively, and with every stroke of his tongue, desire coiled tighter in Desiree.

She stroked his shoulders, his arms, his hair, the ache deep inside her swelling. Digging her fingers into his shoulders, Desiree murmured his name in a broken voice, on the edge of simply shattering, wanting more and at the same time yearning for satisfaction.

Tom dropped her onto the bed, and Desiree bounced lightly, laughing up at him. He grinned, eyes glinting in a predatory way, and climbed onto the bed, straddling her legs. Desiree’s breath caught in her throat, the familiar thrill of the chase permeated with sensuality. The throbbing between her legs turned hotter, fiercer, more demanding.

He went to the ties of her petticoats and underpants, impatiently snapping one when it knotted under his fingers. He bunched the waistbands in his hands and pulled them all down. Sucking in a breath, Tom sat back on his heels, his eyes blazing, and simply looked at her.

A flush touched Desiree’s cheek, embarrassment mingling with a sensual satisfaction, the look in his eyes heating her blood, and she felt a wayward temptation to stretch beneath his gaze in a thoroughly wanton manner. So she did.

“Are you planning to just look?” she asked archly.

“No.” His answer was low and husky. He reached out to trail a finger down the center line of her body from the hollow of her throat to the juncture of her legs. Moisture flooded between her legs. “I plan to do a great deal more than look.” He planted his hands on the bed on either side of her, crawling slowly up her body. “I plan to touch.” He curved one hand over her breasts and down her side. “And taste.” He bent to kiss her mouth.

As they kissed, his body slid down from his crouch, so that he supported himself on his forearms and his legs were flush against hers. The fabric of his trousers upon her bare skin was somehow titillating, but as she stroked her hands over his back and down, she wanted to touch him without the cloth between them.

“Take off your clothes,” she ordered huskily.

“Yes, ma’am.” She felt the breath of his little laugh against her lips, and then his weight was off her. He stood up, unbuttoning and quickly shucking off the remainder of his clothing.

Desiree studied his naked body, her eyes widening a little at the sight of him. She had known what a naked man looked like. It had been impossible to grow up as she had in Falk’s household without catching a glimpse now and then.

But she hadn’t really known, she realized now, looking at Tom’s sleekly muscled body. He was beautiful in a thoroughly masculine way, the lines of muscle and bone making her fingers itch to touch him. And if, in his heavily aroused state, he looked a bit dangerous also... Well, Desiree had never been one to shy away from danger. She held out her arms to him.

He returned, nudging her legs apart with his knees, and she opened to him. Desiree’s hands went to the fleshy curve of his buttocks, caressing and clutching, then trailed down onto his thighs, delighting in the texture of his hair-roughened skin.

Tom kissed her, his hand caressing her breasts, her stomach, gliding down between her legs, finding the silken-soft flesh there, wet with the evidence of her desire. His mouth left hers, trailing down her body to devote his attention to her breasts, all the while his fingers still playing with her, stoking the fire within her.

“Tom...” Desiree moved her legs restlessly, her body knowing that only he could satisfy the ache that pulsed deep inside.

He murmured something unintelligible, his mouth drifting to the soft skin of her stomach as he slipped his finger inside her, hinting at the surcease she sought while increasing her need for it. Desiree dug her fingers into his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin. He groaned, a shiver running down his back, and he shifted, the head of his shaft teasing at her entrance.

Desiree widened her legs, pressing up against him, but he barely entered her, moving with relentless slowness as he sank into her, pulling back, then pushing forward. Her nails scored his back as Desiree wrapped her legs around him tightly, and he sank all the way into her, filling and fulfilling her need. She let out a soft moan, moving with him.

Passion built in her, coiling ever tighter, driving Desiree until she was trembling. At last, it exploded and an indescribable pleasure rolled through her. Tom let out a cry and shuddered, pouring himself into her, and they clung together, riding out the storm.

Tom collapsed against her, rolling to the side and taking her in his arms. His breathing was ragged as he murmured, “Stay with me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“OF COURSE.”