Martha stared into his dark eyes and knew—with every particle of her being—that if she didn’t say something to him before he left Stroma, she’d regret it for the rest of her days. It would be better to speak and face rejection than to remain silent and never know.
“I saw you the night in the meetinghouse, after you washed your clothes, and you had a blanket wrapped around you and—”
Realization dawned as slowly as a sunrise and his silent, speculative regard made her face hotter and hotter.
“Hmm. This sounds like a conversation best enjoyed while sitting.” He gestured to the bedroll where she’d waited for him.
She sat, leaning against the stone wall, and he lowered himself beside her.
“So, you were spying on me.”
“I was not spying.”
“Then what were you doing?”
“I was—I wondered—”
His smile grew with each sputter.
Martha shut her mouth.
“Why are you telling me this now?” He sounded genuinely perplexed.
She could hardly tell him the truth, could she? That she couldn’t stop thinking about him. That it was his face she wanted to see when Robert kissed her? That Robert’s hands on her body made her feel worse than unmoved, it made her feel as if she were being … unfaithful.
“Martha?” he prodded.
She could tell him none of those things because she was a coward. Instead, she said, “I feel guilty.” That wasn’t entirely a lie …
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yes, why do you feel guilty?” he asked patiently. “After all, it’s not your fault if you caught a glimpse of me doing that. In fact, most people would say I should not be doing that anywhere at all, and certainly not in the middle of the meeting house with the doors wide open.” He stopped abruptly and frowned. “Tell me, how long did you stay to watch?”
“Um.”
“You stayed um? How long is um, Martha—more than a minute? Less than an hour?” His voice was low and compelling—almost menacing.
Just tell him. You know you want to.
“Erm, until the end.”
His expression was inscrutable.
“Won’t you say something?”
“Did you think about me—after? When you were alone in your bed?”
“What?” she shrieked, recoiling.
“You heard me.”
“But—”
“No buts.” The harsh lines of his face were stern and intense. “You wanted me to know that you watched—don’t deny it. If you’d said nothing I would never know. Now you’ve told me. So now answer my question: did you think about me when you were in bed.”
She sucked in a breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and nodded.
He gave a low, satisfied chuckle and cupped her jaw. “Look at me, Martha.”
She opened her eyes to find that he was no longer leaning against the wall but was facing her.
“You came here to seduce me tonight, didn’t you?”
She opened her mouth to deny it, but nothing came out.
“It’s all right; you don’t need to answer that.” He caressed her cheek, his expression thoughtful. “It arouses me to think of you watching me when I was naked and hard.”
She sucked in a noisy breath at his provocative words.
“I especially like to imagine you thinking of me later when you were alone. Did you touch yourself?”
Martha’s jaw sagged.
His soft words cut the invisible threads that were holding her together and she began to unravel. It was an effort to breathe and there was no way she could form a word.
But he didn’t seem to care about an answer.
“I remember what I was thinking about that night—as I pleasured myself. Do you want to know?”
Martha had to breathe through her mouth to get enough air.
“Do you?”
She gave a jerky nod.
“No, I want you to say it: Hugo, what were you thinking about as you stroked yourself to orgasm?”
A strangled squeak came out of her gaping mouth.
Hugo swept his thumb lightly over her lower lip, his skin salty on the tender flesh. “I adore your mouth, Martha.” His gaze remained on her lips while his thumb moved back and forth. “Shall I tell you what I was thinking that night without making you beg? Would you like that?”
Their eyes locked and the expression in his was hard—almost cruel.
She nodded.
“I was thinking about you and that mouth of yours.” His jaw tightened and his nostrils flared. “I’ve pleasured myself almost every night, thinking about you, your mouth, your body.”
She could hear her ragged breathing even over the drumming of her pulse.
“Just looking at you leaves me aroused and wanting.” He stroked the corner of her mouth. “You saw just how hard I was that night, didn’t you? That was your doing.” He caught his lower lip with his sharp teeth and shook his head. “Lately, once isn’t enough. Sometimes I get hard during the day.”
He kept saying that word: hard. It was doing things to her body. Her lungs labored and the place between her thighs throbbed so loudly she could actually hear it: thud thud thud.
When he lowered his mouth over hers, Martha felt as if she’d been waiting for him all her life.
His words were crude, but his mouth was so soft, so gentle. He sipped at her lips, stroking her jaw, chin, and throat with his rough fingers. “Mmm,” he murmured, nibbling her lower lip and then sucking it into his mouth.
Martha’s head spun drunkenly.
He released her lip and pressed butterfly kisses on the swollen flesh. “You taste as good as you look. I’d like to eat you.”
Martha gaped, doubtless resembling a rockfish that had been brought up from a great depth.
Hugo slid his hand behind her head. “Lean back, sweetheart, I need to kiss you properly.”
Good Lord! There was more? That was nothing like Robert’s kiss. “Pr-properly?”
“Well, maybe improperly would be a better word for it.” He chuckled and it was the sort of low, growly sound that Martha imagined a dangerous jungle panther would make right before it pounced. “And please breathe, I don’t want you dropping into unconsciousness.”
It was a relief to let her head fall back, to let him support and cradle her in his arms while his mouth reclaimed hers.
“Just relax and let me please you,” he murmured. He kissed and
