A Lady Never Tells(90)

The shiver that ran through his body was all the response Mary needed, and she continued to travel up his chest with ever more lingering kisses. Remembering how he had aroused her as he kissed her neck earlier, she began to ply her tongue and teeth as well. His flesh was hot and faintly salty to her exploring mouth, and each quiver or groan she elicited from him ratcheted up the level of her own desire.

He grasped the open edges of her nightgown and pulled sharply, and the garment split down the front seam with a loud rip. Mary gasped and looked up at him. Royce’s face was suffused with hunger, and his eyes were almost black. Heedless of what he had done to her night rail, he shoved it off her, exposing her to his voracious gaze. His hands moved down her body, gliding over her breasts and stomach and around to her hips.

Mary trembled, sure that her legs were going to give way. Then he moved his hand between her legs, and she let out a noise of astonishment and delight. It seemed as if the whole world suddenly stopped, narrowing to the delicious sensations blossoming there. She had never dreamed of anything like this, never thought of a man touching her there, never would have imagined that it could feel this way.

He bent to kiss her, his mouth hot and demanding, opening her lips to his plundering tongue as his fingers continued to work their magic, opening and separating the folds of her flesh, stroking across the sensitive skin with supreme delicacy.

Mary dug her fingers into his arms, quivering under the intensity of her feelings. He pulled his mouth from hers, leaving her gasping at the loss as he bent and picked her up, laying her down on her dressing gown. Stretching out on his side next to her, he began to kiss her again, his fingers trailing across her stomach and abdomen and up and down her thighs, teasingly traveling almost to the hot center of her desire, then gliding away until Mary was almost sobbing with need.

He kissed his way greedily down her throat and came at last to rest on her breast, his tongue circling first one nipple, then the other, as his fingers kept up their teasing dance. Mary moved restlessly beneath him, lost in the pleasure of his hands and mouth, even as a fierce need built up within her. She wanted to again feel his fingers on her there, where desire was now pooling, where a growing emptiness ached for more. She wanted—Mary wasn’t certain any longer just what she wanted, only that she was filled with want. Indeed, she seemed to be nothing but want.#p#分页标题#e#

Royce’s mouth fastened upon her nipple, pulling it into the hot cave of his mouth, and at the same moment his fingers sought out the slick center of her heat. Mary moaned, digging her heels into the floor and arching up against his hand.

He suckled at her breast, and every movement of his mouth shot a white-hot spear of desire to the very center of her being. At last, growling low in his throat, Royce moved between her legs, fumbling at the fastening of his trousers. He looked up at her face—and froze.

“Bloody hell!” The oath broke from his lips, and he rolled off her, sitting up and burying his head in his hands.

Mary rose on her elbows, staring at him in dismay. Her entire body was simmering, and the insistent throbbing between her legs made her want to cry out in frustration.

“Royce?” she asked, her voice coming out in a croak.

“Get dressed.” His voice was tight and hard, and he still did not look at her.

“But why—”

“Just do it!” His voice cracked like a whip. “Just put on your gown and run back to your room and thank your lucky stars that I am not completely drunk.”

Mary blushed beet red. She felt suddenly small and exposed. Scrambling to her feet, she picked up the dressing gown on which she had been lying and wrapped it around her, tying the sash with a jerk. Grabbing the ruined night rail, she wadded it into a ball and ran from the room.

In her bare feet she made little noise as she dashed down the corridor and up the stairs to her room. Ducking inside, she locked the door after her and leaned back against it, gasping for breath, her legs shaking.

What had she done? What would he think of her?

Mary groaned and sank to the floor, cradling the bundle of her torn nightgown against her chest. She did not know how she would ever be able to face Royce again. At least he had the excuse that he had been drinking. But she had been perfectly sober and clearheaded—and still she had behaved like a wanton!

She should be in tears, she told herself. She should be crying in shame and distress. Yet she could not. And as horrified as she was at her behavior, she could not deny the tremors of desire still running through her. Her blood pounded in her veins, and her skin was so sensitive that she was supremely aware of even the touch of her dressing gown on her naked skin.