Amelia Grey - [Rogues' Dynasty 06] (16 page)

She lay quietly, allowing him to intimately caress her, seeming to know that he was building tension and passion in both of them.

“I want to feel your skin,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly. “Oh, believe me, Sophia, I would love for you to. I would love to feel your skin against mine, but that isn’t possible.”

“Why?”

“This is not the place or the time for such intimacy between us.”

“How long do you think the fog will last?” she asked.

“I have no way of knowing.”

“Then we must hurry.” She started unbuttoning his waistcoat.

“You are treading on dangerous ground once again, Sophia.”

“But it is ground I must cover while I have the opportunity.”

She pulled the front of his shirt out of his trousers and slipped her hands beneath his shirt, skimming his bare skin. He gasped from the pleasure of her touch. A tremor of arousal slammed through Matson. His skin pebbled deliciously at her caress. His lips fastened over hers again in a provocative onslaught of desire to make her his. He pulled her closer, urging her to fit her softness more fully against the curve of his body.

Matson desperately wanted to feel her smooth skin. She tempted him with her gentle touch, but he knew the folly of trying to undress her. They were under the cover of fog for now, but it could leave as quickly as it had come in. He’d have to make do with the clothing on.

Sophia leaned into their kiss, keeping her hands on his bare skin, causing torrents of desire to shoot through his manhood like fire. He deepened the kiss, and she responded, matching him desire for desire, and passion for passion. Her heat drew him, covered him like a warm blanket. Her hands roved over the contours of his bare back. Her touch soothed and yet tortured him, making him want to beg for more. He wanted her to slip her hands past his waist, and suddenly, as if reading his mind, she did.

He kissed her lips tenderly and enjoyed the unrestrained freedom with which she touched him. Matson threw his head back as his muscles contracted in sweet pain.

Matson skimmed his hand down the plane of her hip, and when he brought his hand back up, her dress came with it. He caressed the warm, bare skin of her shapely outer thigh and slowly let his hand slip between her legs. He had no control, because she was so willing and so eager to have him touch her. With a sure, steady hand, he found her most womanly part beneath her undergarments. His lips came down on hers with hard, demanding pressure. Their tongues met. Their breaths mingled. Through her fervent touch and soft feminine sounds, she let him know that she wanted him to bury himself deeply within her, and he was eager to do so.

But the gentleman side of his mind forced him to say between kisses, “Sophia, it’s not too late to stop.”

“I know. I am aware of what we are doing and what I am asking of you.”

He shook his head. “You do not have to ask this. I am eager and ready.”

“I’ve found in my life that sometimes things are worth the risk, Matson.”

“And being here with me like this is one of them?” he asked.

“Yes. Please, don’t stop touching me, don’t stop kissing me. I know there is something more. My body is telling me that we are not finished and there are more wonderful sensations to come.”

No further confirmation was needed. Sophia wanted this union between them as much as he did, and she was receptive to whatever he had in mind. That thought sent his imagination into action and aroused him all the more. He hadn’t planned this, but how could it be wrong when they both wanted this mating of their bodies?

“How can I deny you?” he whispered.

“As a gentleman, you can’t deny a lady her desire for you, can you?”

“No, not this time.”

His masculine feelings had never felt so alive, so in command. He had never been so caught up by raw desire for a woman that he was willing to take her on the cold, damp floor of a small rowboat in the middle of the Serpentine, but God help him, right now he was.

Matson desperately wanted to take his time and undress her. He wanted to gaze at her beautiful body and touch her bare, softly rounded breasts. He wanted to pull her nipples into his mouth and savor the taste of her on his lips and tongue, but he knew the folly in that route.

With desires at a fevered pitch, they crushed, clung, and grabbed at clothing, pushing it up, moving it aside, and pulling it down. Matson felt so frantic to possess her that his soul hungered for her.

His tongue plundered the depths of her mouth, and his fingers softly caressed her most womanly part. He felt her body tremble with urgency, and he ached with need. Her lips were soft, damp, and delicious. He found satisfaction in each soft, pleasure-filled sound she made as he touched her. He allowed her hands to go lower and close around his hardness, feel its thickness and weight. He gulped in a ragged breath. Her featherlight caress teased him and offered no mercy to his burning need. A spiraling heat of desire swirled and seared deep in his loins.

“You should be wooed,” he whispered against her lips.

“I have no patience with wooing. I want you to show me what my body is yearning for, because no other man has come close to making me feel the way you do.”

“Oh, Sophia, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear you say.”

She arched her hips toward him, and he surrounded her back with his arms and cradled her head in his hands.

“You know,” Matson said, “there can be no commitments between us.”

“That is the way it has to be.”

He rolled on top of her and whispered, “You mustn’t cry out if it hurts at first. Sound carries on the water, and I have no idea how close we are to shore.”

“I will not make a whisper, Matson.”

He then covered her mouth with his and quickly, forcibly joined his body to hers. She stiffened, and he swallowed the soft grunts and moans she made. He knew it was the easiest and quickest way, but he hated like hell hurting her. After her maidenhead was broken, he took his time and rocked back and forth, kissing her cheeks, her lips, and her eyes. He let his throbbing shaft rest inside her while the initial pain subsided, but he could not contain a low groan of pleasure. It rushed past his lips, and he sucked in a hard, ragged breath.

Slowly he moved a hand between them once again and found her most intimate part and tenderly caressed her. He needed to build up her passion once again. He wanted to make damn sure she enjoyed their union as much as he did. He found her lips with his and lovingly kissed her as he slowly began to move inside her.

“Sophia,” he whispered against her lips, “you are so beautiful, so womanly, and so desirable. I swear to you I have never desired a woman the way I have ached for you. I wanted you beneath me like this the moment I saw you.”

“Then why did you take so long?” she asked between choppy, desire-filled breaths.

He chuckled into her mouth. “It is difficult to get you alone.”

“My aunts.”

“I’ve named them Double and Trouble.”

She tried to laugh at his admission, but her breathing was too erratic. “I don’t know what you are doing to me, but I think I’m going to explode.”

“Go ahead,” he whispered. “That is the joy of what we are doing.”

She moaned in pleasure and trembled beneath his touch. Matson smiled against her lips. Her breaths were uneven, but he gently demanded that she participate in what they were doing.

“Help me, Sophia, join me and move with me.”

Her arms completely circled his back as she kissed his lips, cheeks, and neck, and back up to his lips once more. He moved slowly, pushing in and out with long, easy strokes.

He moved inside her, and her lower body quickened in response, her hips lifting to meet him with a desperate eagerness, as if to take more of him into her.

Their kisses moved from gentle to passionate to frantic. When she gasped and dug her fingers into his back, he knew he had satisfied her. He couldn’t leave his seed inside her, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew where that could lead, and he was not willing to go down that road. He strained to hold himself in check for a few more strokes and then, with willpower that came from an inner strength, he withdrew from her and rolled away as he found his own release.

Matson winced at the pain of the quick withdrawal. He gasped and groaned as his body pulsed rapidly and then started to calm. He lay with his back to her, knowing he wasn’t satisfied. He still wanted her. Their coming together had been too fast, too strong, and over too quickly. He needed more of her. He wanted to stretch her on a bed and spend the whole damn night loving her, looking at her, touching her.

He turned back to her. Perhaps there was time for a few more kisses, a few more touches.

He looked down at her and realized he could almost make out her face. Time was short.

Matson sat up in the boat and said, “The fog is lifting. Let me help you straighten your clothing.”

“No, I’ve got mine. You take care of yours.”

He stuffed his shirt back into his trousers and rebuttoned his waistcoat while he watched her smooth down her skirts. Her back was to him, so he touched her shoulder. “Are you all right, Sophia?”

She looked up at him and gave him a sweet smile. “I am fine,” she said.

“I think we should talk about what just happened between us.”

“Why should we? Are you sorry about what we did?”

“No, never,” he said, surprised by her response.

“And neither am I. I knew perfectly well what I was doing, so I don’t think words about it are necessary. Look,” she said, pointing over his shoulder, “there is the blur of a light.”

The gray was dissipating quickly. “Finally,” he said, forcing his fingers back into his gloves, “a beacon to show us the way to shore.”

She touched his arm. “Thank you for chasing all the smoke away.”

He expected her to be nervous or shy, but she wasn’t. He looked closely at her features, wanting to make sure there were no hidden regrets behind her smile.

He smiled. “It was my pleasure, Miss Hart, but I fear your lips look ravished, and there’s a healthy blush to your cheeks.”

“No doubt the wind caused it. It’s been blustery out here on the water for an hour.”

“Do you think Double and Trouble will buy that?”

She smiled again. “I will immediately fall into Aunt June’s arms. I’ll tell her I’m wet, cold, and near frozen to death, and ask her to please rush me home. She’ll not suspect a thing.”

“Sophia—” He stopped.

“Don’t, Matson. As far as I am concerned, nothing has changed between us.”

She picked up her gloves and started putting them on.

“That’s not true,” he objected. “A lot just changed between us. Something just changed for you. You are no longer a virgin.”

She looked up at him with imploring eyes. “I am well aware of that. I knew that when I encouraged you, and I don’t regret it. What has not changed is that I am committed to marry a titled man, and I will.”

Matson’s temper rose. “Then why did you let me touch you?”

“Because I wanted to.”

“Is Sir Randolph forcing you to marry a title?”

“No,” she whispered and started putting on her other glove. “It was a vow I made to my father while he was dying, and I will keep that vow. That is why I said nothing has changed between us. It will be as if nothing happened between us. Please.”

Matson could argue further or be a gentleman and accept things the way she wanted it. “All right,” he finally said. “Nothing has changed between us. That is the way we both want it.”

“Yes,” she said and picked up her bonnet and placed it back on her head.

Matson helped her fasten her wrap around her shoulders, and then threw on his cloak before moving to his seat at the front of the boat. He picked up his oar and started rowing, feeling very empty inside.

A few minutes later they reached the shore. The footmen were there to help pull in the boat.

“Sophia, we were so worried about you,” June said, grabbing her and hugging her as soon as she stepped out.

“Are you all right?” Mae asked, patting her on the back. “You look near frozen to death.”

“Yes, I am cold,” she said, “but otherwise I’m perfectly fine, Aunties.” She glanced at Matson and gave him a shy smile. “Mr. Brentwood took excellent care of me.”

“Didn’t you hear us calling out to you?” June asked, giving Matson a disapproving look.

“Not in time to make it to shore,” Sophia said quickly, not giving Matson time to answer. “It was quite scary at one time, Aunt June. The fog was so thick, I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. I wanted to get close to Mr. Brentwood, but he insisted I stay where I was for fear any movement could cause the boat to tip over and land both of us in the water.”

“Oh, my, he was right,” Mae said in alarm. “How frightful that would have been.”

“It is my fault we were caught in the fog, Miss Shevington. I should have been paying more attention to the skies.”

“Indeed you should have,” June said.

“But thank you, Mr. Brentwood,” Mae said kindly, “for keeping our Sophia safe. I shudder to think what would have happened if Sophia had fallen in the water.”

“She was very brave.” He smiled at her. “I think what she needs is to get home and have something warm to eat and drink.”

“And then I shall be fine,” Sophia said.

“Absolutely,” June said. “Come, dearest.”

Sophia stopped her aunt and looked back at Matson. “Thank you for teaching me how to row, Mr. Brentwood. Perhaps we can do it again before May Day Fair Day?”

Matson’s breath leaped in surprise. “I would like that, Miss Hart.”

“No, no,” June said. “I’m afraid that won’t happen. Sophia does not have the time to spend another afternoon on the Serpentine. Her schedule is simply too full.”

“Perhaps you can practice for the wheelbarrow race next time,” Mae said. “Mr. Brentwood can come to our house for that. You can practice in the back garden, where it is much safer.”

“Mr. Brentwood?” Sophia asked.

“I’d be pleased to do that, Miss Hart.”

“Good.”

Matson helped the ladies into the carriage, said his good-byes, and shut the door. He stood and watched the landau until it was out of sight. The fog had almost completely faded away. Nothing changed except that Miss Hart was no longer a virgin, and while she seemed all right with that when she left, he wondered if she’d still feel that way in the morning. It couldn’t be made right.