Megan Frampton (4 page)

But it was impossible not to consider it now; her breath was coming in short bursts, and he noticed she’d begun to move rhythmically against him. His cock appreciated her increase of motion as well. Was she aware enough of what occurred between a man and a woman to know what was happening?

“I want to touch you,” she said, taking her hands from his hair and sliding them down his chest. His breath caught in his throat at her touch.

Her hands stopped at his waistband. Apparently she
did
know what was happening. Christian’s throat got tight. Her fingers, so close to his erection, began a fumbling unbuttoning of his trousers.

What could have been completely awkward was rendered absolutely sensual by the expression on her face: concentrating, the tip of her tongue reaching out to flick her lip, her eyes narrowed as she focused on her work.

Not to mention that she was wearing only her underthings, a situation Christian was desperately hoping she would alter. Of course, undressing her was his task for the evening, wasn’t it? He’d rarely anticipated a scholarly exercise with so much enthusiasm.

“Maybe you should write a column on the difficulty a lady might encounter when undressing her man,” Violet said in exasperation. Her fingers twisted his buttons, touching him just enough to cause acute agony.

“Would you like me to help?” Christian asked.

She glanced quickly at his face. “You’re not laughing at me, are you?” Her expression was tentative. Her utter bravery in the face of her clear fragility made his heart twist.

He leaned forward and shrugged out of his jacket, then yanked his shirt from his trousers and drew it over his head. He didn’t miss how her eyes widened at the sight of him. “Of course not. Don’t you think I know how hard it is to undress someone?” Now he let some of the humor he was feeling into his voice. He gestured to her, still far too dressed for his liking. “And I still haven’t finished the job.” Would she take the hint?

She gave a soft laugh. “I wouldn’t want you to feel as though you hadn’t finished your work. Tell me, is this more or less exciting than translating a Greek text?” She drew
her hands behind her back, but soon frowned. “You’ll have to help me with this,” she said, twisting so he could reach the ties.

Thankfully, he was far more nimble than he had been with her buttons. He unlaced her and was preparing to remove it when she swatted his hand aside.

“Hold on,” she said, twisting back around to face him. Her lips curled into a seductive smile. “This is research, remember? You need to document every moment of this to be able to properly describe how to undress a lady.”

She drew her arms together, plumping her bosom up, so the corset would be able to slide off. It fell forward almost in slow motion, landing on Christian’s chest. A soft, warm fragrance tickled his nose.

She yanked it and tossed it to the side, then rose up on her knees. Before she could pull the shift up over her head, however, he took its hem and began to slide it up her body, leaning forward so he could savor her scent more thoroughly.

He couldn’t resist placing a few soft kisses on her round stomach. As the fabric rose up, he could see her clearly. Entirely. Completely.

Her legs were round but muscled; her hips flared out from her small waist. Soft brown curls covered her mound. His fingers ached to touch her. Slowly, take this slowly, he reminded himself.

“Much more exciting than a Greek text.” Christian raised his leg so his knee was bent on the couch, then took care of the rest of the buttons on his trousers. His cock was very pleased to be so close to freedom. While he was definitely pleased, his cock was even
more
pleased.

“Because, Violet, ancient Greek words can only do so much for a person.” He tilted her off his lap so he could shuck his trousers and his small-clothes in one swift motion.

It was hard not to feel proud when she stared at him. His cock definitely agreed.

“Goodness, Christian, is that
—normal
?”

Although perhaps not so proud.

“It’s so—huge!” she continued. At which point, all sorts of pride made his appendage—and his ego—swell. Thank goodness for pride. And lovely women staring at his cock.

If he didn’t bury himself in her soon, he was going to explode. Literally.

“Would you—could you touch it?”
Please
, he wanted to beg,
touch it, touch it, touch it
.

“If that is what you would like.”

He took a deep breath. “Is it what
you
would like, Violet? This is your impasse, your challenge, after all.” As soon as he spoke, he cursed himself for his honor. Any other man would just have agreed that yes, indeed, that is what he would like.

“Then, yes.” She put her hand out to him. And clasped it, as though she were shaking his hand. “I accept your challenge. Which is my challenge. So who can possibly win?”

Christian hadn’t known she could be as inscrutable as his favorite philosophers. And she was lovely, and currently holding his very grateful cock.

She frowned. “Am I doing it properly?”

He put his hand over hers. “Squeeze and stroke. Just as I am doing to your beautiful breasts.” He suited his action to his words. God, she really had a delicious bosom. Married life was going to be much more distracting than he had ever imagined.

“They’re … beautiful?”

Christian murmured a low assent. “Lovely. So round, and full. Just perfect for my hand. See?” He curved his hand around and cupped her. The weight was satisfyingly heavy. Her nipples were peaked and upright, two pink buds he couldn’t resist sliding his fingers over.

The way she arched into his hand was even better than the feel of her skin. Which felt tremendous.

Not to mention all that glorious female flesh was sitting on him. Naked.

He’d nearly forgotten what she was doing until she moved her hand again. “Is that better?” she asked, stroking his shaft.

He let his head fall back onto the back of the divan. Dear god, and he’d thought this could be a passionless marriage? Not with
her
clever fingers. “Mm hmm,” he groaned. “Yes, just like that.” His arms were long enough that he could still thumb her nipples, teasing them, caressing the full heaviness of her delicious bosom. He had never been more grateful to be tall, with long limbs.

At long last, he was able to lift his head back up and meet her gaze. “Can I touch you?”

* * *

Well, she certainly hadn’t expected this, not even when she’d sneaked into her older brother’s room and seen certain pictures. That is, she knew what it looked like, but not that it would feel like this.

Hard, rigid, and huge. Like the scythe she’d wielded on a dare from Herbert.

Only this, his member, didn’t cut grass. At least, not that she knew of. Because if it did, now that would be a challenge.

Nor did a scythe pulse as she touched it.

In all, she much preferred this.

And him. He’d raised his head and was looking at her with an expression of—well, not precisely pure lust, since he was obviously holding himself back from something. She wondered if he knew he’d clamped his jaw. What would it take to unleash his passion? What would happen when she—

“You haven’t answered my question,” he said. He spoke in a low, husky tone. Through clenched jaw, naturally.

“Question?” She stopped the motion of her hand, and she tried to remember past the whole scythe thought. “Oh!” She felt her cheeks flush. She hoped she didn’t look like a tomato. “Yes.” She shifted her weight, settled back on her haunches so her—
that area
—was more accessible.

“Thank God,” he said, sliding his fingers from her breasts down to her waist. Keeping a firm hold on her, he leaned forward and took her left nipple in his mouth.

She gasped, and felt her breath still in her chest when his finger reached down there. His mouth was warm, his tongue licking and sucking her nipple so that she felt the pull all the way down to her core.

Which, by the way, he was also touching. All in all, it was a complete body experience, and she couldn’t believe she’d lasted nineteen years without having felt this pleasure before.

He raised his head and blew a warm breath on her skin. “Do you like this, Violet?” he murmured in a low voice, so close to her skin that she felt the hum of his words on her body.

“Yes, please, Christian, do it more.” Violet reached down with both hands to hold his shaft, felt it pulse and throb against her skin. He groaned again, and she felt wickedly, wildly feminine. And knew he was well aware of her femininity now, as well. One item checked off on the list of things to do before the wedding: make sure Christian knows you’re female—check.

He glanced up at her from under his dark brows. His eyes had darkened to a fierce, passionate blue. “Only if you promise to let me do this every night once we’re married.”

“And every day, too, please.”

He chuckled and altered the rhythm of his fingers. “Every day, too, you greedy wench.” His fingers slid into her wetness, and Violet was almost embarrassed at just how damp it had gotten down there, until she heard him mutter about how good she felt and how he’d never thought she could be this responsive.

It felt as though she were building to something, only she didn’t quite know what. Just that it would be spectacular when she got there.

He increased the pace, and rubbed on a certain spot that made her gasp.

Damn
, Violet thought, shocked at using such strong language even to herself,
this feels good
.

How much better would it be when they joined as a man and a woman do?

Damned if she wouldn’t find that out, too.

But meanwhile, his mouth hadn’t returned to her breast, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss him, or have him return to what he was doing before, perhaps on the other breast. Just to be fair and all.

“What do you want, Violet?” Now his voice was strained.

Was he reading her mind?

She took a deep breath. “I want you, Christian. I want you to
challenge
me”—she stressed the word and felt her lips twist into a wry grin—“to put this”—she squeezed his member to make her point comprehensible, and he jerked—“inside me.” She paused,
then spoke again. “Now.” Just in case he wasn’t clear as to what she wanted. And when she wanted it.

He grinned. A wolfish, wanting grin she’d definitely never seen on his face before.

“Exactly what I was thinking, Violet. And here I’d heard wives and husbands seldom agree on anything.” His tone was teasing.

She scooted sideways so she was off his lap, lying on the divan, which was long enough to accommodate her entire body. It wouldn’t accommodate his, though, would it? He would have to figure out the geometric angles, but there was no better person than Christian to work out that sort of thing. Even as he was working out something else entirely.

She placed her hand on her breast and touched her nipple as he had. His eyes tracked her movement. “We’re not married yet. First you have to meet my challenge, remember?”

He nudged her legs aside and sat next to her, his palm covering her hand where it still caressed her breast. He met her eyes, then ran his gaze down the rest of her body, which shivered in response. “Challenge accepted. You have my word I will release you from the engagement if we do not break the impasse, if I do not totally satisfy all of your needs.” He paused, then repeated, “All of them.”

Had she shivered before? Now she felt as though her body was on fire.

Christian adjusted his position so he was on top of her, his head resting beside hers, his body a solid, warm weight. She slid her hands onto his back—which was just as muscled as the rest of him—and reached lower. Heavens, his backside felt very different from her own. Much firmer, certainly, and where she was curves and roundness, he seemed to have divots and muscles. Interesting.

“You have just broken your own rule, Christian.” Her words came out breathy, not in her usual tone of voice. Then again, she very rarely had an entire naked male lying on her while she spoke. “Remember, the rule about remaining upright?”

He planted his arms on either side of her body and raised himself up, still keeping his lower body resting against hers. “As you have made me exquisitely aware, Violet, it is important to break the rules when necessary for further research. This is further research
for our future life together, is it not?” His lips curled up in yet another delicious, intoxicating smile. “Certainly this research is far more important than any rule.”

She could barely concentrate on his words, although she was grateful he wasn’t quite as rigid—except in the good way—as he’d seemed when she first appeared in his study. She was too busy just looking at him.

His naked chest, now directly before her eyes, was an epiphany; like the rest of him, his chest was hard and muscled, with just the barest scattering of dark hair. His nipples were flat and brown. What would it feel like to lick them?

“What are you thinking about?” His fingers reached between them to where he’d been touching her before. Right there, the precise spot that
—ooh. Yes, Christian
.

Violet gasped. “Nothing, now, thanks to you. I can’t think, not when you’re—oh!” She sighed, as he increased the rhythm and pressure. “I am not sure I can—that is, please, Christian!”

His hardness pressed against her thigh; close, but not close enough to where she wanted it to be. Who knew passion was so specific?

“Whatever you want. This is your challenge, after all.”

“Inside now, please.” Goodness, would she have to repeat herself this much after they were married?

He removed his fingers, those clever, questing fingers, and put a hand on each inner thigh, spreading her to his gaze.

If he hadn’t looked quite so pleased—that was a rather lukewarm way to describe it, but Violet wasn’t thinking properly at the moment—she’d have been embarrassed to have him look at her there so intently, but his expression and the way he licked his lips made all sorts of sparks shoot through her body.

“I think we’ll hold off just for a moment. There’s something I want to do,” he said, and before Violet could protest, or wonder what she was doing wrong, he’d slid off her body and was kneeling on the floor. Still looking at her there with that rapt expression.