Forgotten Time (Ravenhurst Series, #1) A New Adult Time Travel Romance (17 page)

He released her mouth. Keeping her skirts in one hand, he pulled her bodice down with the other. His mouth found her hardened nipple. He teased it with his tongue and suckled it with his lips. She leaned into him more. He was hard, straining against his breeches, wanting, needing release.

He pushed into her more, waiting for her to do something, anything, other than demurely kiss his neck. He pulled her bodice down further, pressing forward while toying with the other breast.

They were even more delectable than he remembered. He waited for the inevitable, savoring the moment for just a bit longer. He knew she would release him at any moment, doing the same thing to his body, which Annabelle had done so many times before. She finally released his neck and ran her hands down the front of his chest. Then she stopped. He held back a groan, waiting once more. He couldn’t take it; he ran his hand over the round curve of her sweet derriere, dipping his hand just between her legs, then slowly pulling it back.

She sucked in her breath as though she were shocked. He smiled, enjoying her little game of innocence as she tormented his body with her own. He lowered his mouth to her breast again, kissing her everywhere, instead of the one place she wanted his mouth. He wanted her to see how it felt to be teased. She slid her hand back into his hair as he slipped his hand down between her legs, once more. He could tell she was more than ready for him and still, she did nothing. It was so obvious to him she was no longer an innocent. The way she rubbed her breasts against him, the way her mouth toyed with his, sucking, pulling, teasing. He forced her previous admission from his mind, that her lover would be returning for her. He knew she did not outwardly admit he was her lover, but where else could she have been all this time if not with a lover? He forced the images from his mind; he didn’t want to think about that now.

She continued to tease him, but thoughts of her betrayal bubbled forth in his mind, once more. That was it; he had enough of her silly games. He grabbed her hand from around his neck and pushed it down over his breeches. He kept his hand over hers, waiting to see what she would do.

Katherine froze. He was putting her hand right on his… Oh, she was taking this little game way too far. Her mind was spinning--she was outta control. She had to slow down. If she slept with him now, he would surely lose interest. Cosmopolitan never said, “
Give him all you have and hope he comes back for seconds.
” She was sure it worked for some girls; but unfortunately, Katherine didn’t think she could swing that one. No, she knew if she slept with him now, she would be just like any other girl he slept with. Nothing more than a moment’s pleasure. It all made complete sense to Katherine, but it didn’t stop her from, shivering with desire when he ran his hand down between her legs once more. She wanted to cave. Her body trembled. She did not know what to do. Would it even make a difference? Her mind said
yes
, her body said
no
.

Sebastian was tired of waiting for her to figure out what she was going to do. He sighed in frustration, letting go of her hand. He took a step back and ran his hands over his face. He was still hard as hell. What silly game was she playing now?

Well, he certainly knew how Annabelle felt when he left her in such a state. This precocious wench was taking him to the edge and leaving him there. He looked at her face, so lovely and flushed. Her bare breasts were still exposed, a sheen of perspiration shining on them in the firelight. She kept her gaze downcast. He watched the rise and fall of her chest. He was tempted to walk away, but something stopped him. He found he could not walk away, not yet.

Apparently, he was not ready to quit the game she had begun. So instead of leaving, he stepped forward and grabbed her body roughly to his own. He was satisfied when he heard her gasp, followed by a moan of pleasure.

He didn’t bother going slowly. He lifted her gown up quickly and reached around the back of her, grabbing onto each cheek of her perfectly rounded derrière. She moaned again, leaning back into the chair. He lifted one of her legs up and settled himself against her. She slid her hands slowly down the front of his chest. He waited. Her hands stilled once more. He seized her mouth again with his own, devouring all she was offering.

She was almost there; he could feel her toying with the fastenings of his breeches. He throbbed to be touched under the fabric. She was taking too long. He tore his mouth from hers and grabbed her breast again. She was so close. He ran his hand up her leg, almost touching her and waited. He wanted her to burn for him.

She pressed into him, writhing, trying to move closer. He smiled and stayed his hand on her thigh, rubbing slowly up and down.

He was not ready to give in to her yet. He wanted her to make the next move in this little game of chess they had begun. He wanted her to beg. She was shaking, and her breath came in rushed hitches as her fingers fumbled with the front of his breeches. He leaned in, kissing her just below her ear, right on the sweet spot of her neck. She shivered against him in response.

One button finally undone. He closed his eyes… he could almost taste the satisfaction. There were only a few more, then she could wrap her sweet…

A large crash sounded in the hall, followed by, “Oh no!”

Sebastian’s body tensed as he let out a loud, shaky groan. He released her skirts, watching them fall to the floor, as he looked at her face. She would not meet his gaze. Running his hands over his face, he watched her trying to pull her gown to rights and cover her breasts. He shook his head, not knowing what to say. He turned away to find out what happened in the hall.

Hawthorne Manor

Devlin Renquist strode into Hawthorne Manor with an air of noble authority, his face still chilled from the haste in which he rode back to the manor. He was in need of release
now
.

“Judith!” he yelled, his voice echoing through the hall and into the study. “Judith!” he called, louder, running up the stairs to look in the room they were staying in, Isabelle’s bedchamber. He usually found her up there, trying on Isabelle’s clothing, admiring herself in the mirror.

However, Judith was not there, either. “Bloody hell.” Judith was never around when he actually wanted her to be. He walked back down the stairs, stopping long enough to throw his coat over the railing. He almost yelled for a servant, before remembering he made them all leave under the guise of a coming blizzard.

He certainly didn’t need them meddling in his affairs, since he wasn’t sure what to do with Isabelle. Judith, of course, wanted her gone. He couldn’t do that though; at least, not yet. No, he would need to think on it some more, another day perhaps. Maybe she would come to her senses, and realize she was the one who pushed him into Judith’s awaiting arms.

He shook his head and wanted nothing more than a hot beverage and some damn release, but he found neither. He strode into the study and poured an ample amount of brandy in his glass. It was close to the brim, but not a drop slipped from the crystal snifter onto the carpet. He smiled knowingly and settled himself into a chair, in front of the fire that had long since gone cold.

Devlin let his mind stray to another time… the tightening in him growing worse with the memories….

Hawthorne Manor, the past…

“Devlin put those bags down. You are the Lord of Hawthorne now, not a servant,” Isabelle berated him as she pulled her gloves off and handed them to Charles.

Devlin tensed. “Sorry, love. I have not gotten used to my new station in life as of yet,” Devlin gushed apologetically.

“Oh Devlin, give it time, you’ll come around soon enough,” Isabelle purred sweetly, using her index finger to beckon him to her.

Devlin smiled. They had just come back from their honeymoon; it was a long one. Isabelle wanted to visit so many places and see so many things. She often told him she needed to show him off. He found out quickly enough that his role was only to be seen, not heard. He had become Isabelle’s young show pony to parade in front of society and her so-called haggish friends with doddering husbands. He wondered if everyone could see the invisible lead rope tethered to his neck as she dragged him around, making him prance. He certainly could feel it, squeezing the life from him as each day passed… until the day, he saw her, Marguerite.

He sighed aloud and took another drink. Loosening his cravat, he closed his eyes.

“Isabelle, where did you say we were going this evening?” Devlin asked, rushing into the study. It was Isabelle’s favorite place to be, besides the bedchamber. He pulled up short in his progression. A young woman stood in the middle of the room, her spine rigid. She was speaking in hushed, angry tones to Isabelle. He saw Isabelle cut her a silencing glare.

Then she turned around, looking over her shoulder at him. His breath caught in his throat. He felt like he had just been thrown from his prized stallion, all wind knocked from his lungs. Ironically, Isabelle bought him the stallion for a wedding gift. He found it fitting, especially after he was the one that turned out to be the actual show pony.

Her violet eyes ignited with anger, her face flushed, her cheeks glistened with tears she had recently shed, and yet, she still smiled at him, sweetly. That simple gesture was his undoing. Devlin saw the light at the end of a very, long, dark, tunnel that day. He smiled back with all the emotion he was feeling. They had a connection.

“Close your mouth, Devlin, you’re salivating,” Isabelle warned, her green eyes sparking with anger.

She, Marguerite, quickly turned away, covering her face before dashing from the room.

Devlin shut his mouth obediently and smoothed his features. Yes, that was the day when Isabelle became nothing more to him than a means to an end.

Sebastian dragged his hand through his hai
r
, making it stand on end while one of the servants helped Milford to the kitchen. The man almost gave Sebastian heart failure. When he went to the foyer to see what the commotion was about, he saw Milford lying amongst broken glass and greenery. His leg was twisted awkwardly, and his face was ashen. Sebastian immediately thought the worst.

Luckily, Milford had only taken a small spill. Apparently, some of the water spilled from the vase he carried and he slipped in it. Sebastian wasn’t sure what he was doing carrying the vase in the first place. The maids usually did all the floral arrangements.

But it was the end to the moment he shared with Marguerite. Now he lifted heavily-lidded eyes to her as she braced herself in the library doorway. Her face was still flushed, her gown rumpled, and her hair was completely undone. She looked well loved, even though they had yet to finish what they started with one another.

Just looking at her, he could feel himself hardening again. Her blue eyes glittered with a hint of a sweet, shy smile, pulling on the corners of her swollen lips.

He suddenly wondered if she looked like that with the rakehell she left him for. Did she let him touch her body the same way? Did she make his pulse race by playing her coy, little games? Did she make the rogue wait to be touched as well? He did not think so.

Lifting his eyes to hers once more, he felt sicker as each moment passed. He could not take it; he gave her a cutting look and watched her face fall. She wrapped her arms around herself, a look of hurt and confusion crossing her face. A pang of guilt assailed him, which he dashed away, quickly. He had to hand it to her… she was good. He almost believed her,
almost
. He would not be taken in again. He was a complete and utter fool. He gave her one last, harsh look, then turned on his heel and walked deliberately away, wishing she never came back.