She needed to stop him. She needed to say something, to tell him that she had not decided yet, that she could not commit, not until she’d had a bit of time to think clearly, which she obviously could not do in his presence. He was talking about the future, about children, and she knew that her silence felt like an assent.
He ran one finger along the inside of her thigh. “I just don’t think that we could possiblynot have lots of children,” he murmured. His lips found her ear again. “I shan’t let you out of our bed.”
Her knees buckled.
His finger slid even higher, reaching the hot crease where leg met her hip. “Shall I tell you what I plan to do there? In our bed?”
She nodded.
He smiled. She felt it against her ear, felt his lips move and tilt, heard his breath fill with joy. “First,” he said softly, “I shall see to your pleasure.”
A little moan escaped her lips. Or maybe it was a squeak.
“I will start with a kiss,” he said, his voice hot and low against her skin. “But where, I wonder?”
“Where?” she whispered. It wasn’t really a question, more of an echo of disbelief.
He touched her mouth. “On the lips? Maybe.” His finger made a lazy trail down to her collarbone. “I do like this part of you. And these…” He cupped one of her breasts, moaning as he squeezed. “I could lose myself all day in these.”
Annabel arched her back, wanting to give him more. Her body had taken over and it was desperate for him. She couldn’t stop thinking about what he had done to her in the Valentines’ drawing room. How he had touched her breasts. All her life she had hated them, hated how men stared and whistled and if they’d had too much to drink, seemed to think she was ripe for the picking.
But Sebastian had made her feel beautiful. He had loved her body, and this had madeher love her body.
He dipped his hand into the bodice of her dress, slid his fingers under her chemise so he could skim them over her nipple. “You have no idea,” he said in a husky voice, “how much I’m going to love you here.”
Her breath caught, and she felt bereft as he moved his hand again. It had been a most awkward position for him, and she could not help but think that if she could just push the whole bloody thing down, he could touch her everywhere. He could squeeze, and knead, and suckle.
“Oh my God,” she moaned.
“What are you thinking about?” he whispered.
She shook her head. There was no way she could give voice to the wanton thoughts in her head.
“Are you thinking about where else I might kiss you?”
Dear God, she hoped he did not expect her to answer.
“I might kiss you somewhere else entirely,” he teased. His other hand—the one on her leg—wrapped softly around her thigh and squeezed. “If I want to give you pleasure,” he murmured, “to give you full pleasure, I think I’m going to have to kiss you here.”
His finger dipped between her legs.
She almost jumped back. She would have, if his arm hadn’t been wrapped so tightly around her.
“Do you like that?” he murmured, tracing tiny circles as he moved closer to her center.
She nodded. Or maybe she thought she nodded. But she definitely didn’t say no.
A second finger joined the first, and with aching gentleness he teased her open, stroking her moist skin. Annabel felt her body begin to jerk and shudder, and she grabbed tightly to his shoulders, afraid that if she let go, she would simply collapse.
“You would taste like heaven, I think,” he continued, clearly unwilling to stop until she had exploded in his arms. “I would lick you right here.” He ran one fingertip lightly along her skin. “And then right here.” He repeated the caress on the other side. “And then I would gohere .” He moved to her most sensitive nub of flesh, and she almost screamed.
His mouth pressed harder against her ear. “I’d lick that, too.”
Annabel clutched him even harder, pressing her hips into his hand.
“But even that might not be enough,” he whispered. “You are a discerning woman, and you might make me work for your pleasure.”
“Oh, Sebastian,” she moaned.
He chuckled lightly against her skin. “I might have to touch you a little more deeply.” One of his fingers began to circle at her opening, then slid softly inside. “Like this. Do you like that?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes.”
He began to move within her. “Do you like this?”
“Yes.”
Oh, he was wicked, and she was wicked, and he was doing wicked things to her. And all she could think was that they were out of doors and anyone could come across them, and somehow that made it all the more delicious.
“Let go, Annabel,” he whispered in her ear.
“I can’t,” she whimpered, clamping her legs around him. She was aching inside. He was making her ache, and she had no idea how to make it stop.
Or even if she wanted it to stop.
“Let go,” he whispered again.
“I—I—”
He chuckled. “I’m going to speak very plainly, Anna—”
“Oh!”
She wasn’t certain if she let go or not, but something inside her quite simply fell apart. She clung to his shoulders, holding on for dear life, and then, when she started to go limp, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to a soft patch of grass several yards away. She sat down, and then lay down, allowing the sun to warm her face.
“I love you in green,” he said.
She didn’t open her eyes. “I’m wearing pink.”
“You’d look better if you took it all off,” he said, dropping a kiss on her nose, “and it was just you and the grass.”
“I don’t know what you just did to me,” she said. She sounded dazed. She didn’t think she’d sounded
so dazed in her life.
He kissed her again. “I can think of ten more things I’d like to do.”
“I think that would kill me.”
He laughed loudly at that. “Clearly we’ll need to practice more. Build up your stamina.”
She finally opened her eyes and looked at him. He was lounging on his side, his head propped against his hand. He had a clover in his hand.
He tickled her nose with it. “You’re so beautiful, Annabel.”
She sighed happily. She felt beautiful.
“Are you going to marry me?”
She closed her eyes again. She felt so perfectly languid.
“Annabel?”
“I want to,” she said softly.
