A Week to Be Wicked (Spindle Cove #2)(75)
Author: Tessa Dare

But neither was it terribly far, she imagined.

Overwhelmed with emotion, she nestled close, lacing her fingers tight with his. He was in a cramped, stuffy carriage with her, with night coming on, stuck on the very same roads that had claimed his parents’ lives and destroyed his innocence.

This was as close as Colin Sandhurst could come to walking barefoot down the brimstone avenues of hell, and he was doing it for her.

For her.

She clutched him tighter still. Thank you, she wanted to say. Thank you for believing in me. For braving this for me. If I didn’t love you so madly already, I surely would now.

But she knew tearful professions were hardly what he needed at the moment. This situation called for distraction.

She said, “I’m sure it won’t be long. What shall we do with ourselves to pass the time?”

“Why don’t you read me your presentation again, and I can pretend to pose thoughtful questions?”

She laughed a little.

His voice warmed. “No, truly. I like listening to it. I can’t pretend to understand every word in your presentation, but I don’t have to be an expert to know you’ve something important to say. I don’t need to be a geologist to understand that it’s well-written and carefully reasoned. And the way you pronounce all those polysyllabic words?” His thigh nudged hers. “Makes me rock hard, every time.”

She blushed. Not just at the carnal suggestion, but at his honest appreciation for her scholarship. For all his teasing over the months, she had to give him this: he’d never once suggested she lacked a mind of her own, or insinuated her sex must be an intellectual handicap. How many men of his rank and importance would so readily recognize a young unmarried woman as their academic superior?

She supposed she’d find out when they reached Edinburgh.

If they reached Edinburgh.

“We will make it,” he insisted, as though he could read her thoughts. “Go ahead, read through the presentation again.”

“It’s growing too dark for me to read my notes.”

“Oh.” Looking drawn and tense, he leaned against the carriage wall. He tugged at his open collar. “Night will be coming on soon, I suppose.”

Drat. Minerva winced. Of all the stupid things to say.

He was working mightily to conceal his physical discomfort, but she knew this was misery for him.

“Colin, why don’t we just get out and walk?”

“Because it’s pouring rain.”

“A little wet won’t hurt us.”

“It would chill you. And it would demolish Francine. In a lighter rain, the trunk might keep her dry. But a downpour like this? You know the rain will pound right through the seams. The plaster would disintegrate.”

“So we’ll just leave her here in the carriage.”

He snorted. “Out of the question. I’ve done far too much and come much too far with that scaly old girl. She’s not getting out of my sight now. I’m fine. I can do this, Min. The postilion will be back soon with fresh horses, and we’ll be moving on.”

The tone of his voice would brook no argument.

“Well, we must have some distraction in the meantime.” She perked. “I know. Let’s list naughty-sounding mathematical terms.” In her most tarty, breathy voice, she whispered, “Parabola.”

After a pause, his fingers squeezed hers. “Tessellation.”

“Binomial.”

“Why stop there? Trinomial.”

“Now that’s just wicked.”

“That’s nothing. I’ve been saving this one.” He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Annulus.”

Laughing, she crawled into his lap. “Oh, Colin. This is why I love you.”

His hands went to her waist. “For God’s sake. Because my adolescent mind always wandered to ribald places when I should have been attending my studies?”

She shrugged. “Did I need a better reason?”

“I should think so. Yes.” His brow met hers, and his voice dropped to a raw whisper. “That’s why I’m here, Min. You must know that’s why. You need a much better reason to love me, and I’m trying like hell to give you one.”

Dear, foolish man. By shifting her weight and pulling at her skirts, she managed to straddle his lap. “Just kiss me.”

Framing his face in her hands, she brushed her lips against his. Then he kissed her back, fierce and deep. Their tongues tangled and played.

She guided his hand to her breast. He moaned into her mouth as he cupped and kneaded, smoothing his palm over the fabric-cloaked bud of her nipple. Their kisses became greedy, urgent. He ravaged her mouth with his lips and tongue, and she gave back as good as he gave.

The firm ridge of his arousal announced itself, thrusting against her inner thigh. His free hand found her backside and grabbed tight, grinding her pelvis against his.

“Yes.” She sat back to loosen her bodice. “Yes. Make love to me.”

“Min, I want . . .” He worked for breath as he pushed up her skirts. “Jesus, I can’t be gentle right now. I can’t make love to you. I can’t.”

She whimpered with disappointment, pressing her body to his. She needed him so badly, and she could feel the significant proportions of his need for her. He couldn’t say no.

His sweaty brow pressed against her neck. He licked, then nipped the top of her breast. “You deserve sweet, tender love. A man who’ll give you anything you desire. But right now, what I want is to take. To take you hard and fast and wild enough to light up the whole damn night.”

His fingers delved under her petticoats and found her sex, plunging deep without preliminary.

She gasped. She was so ready for him, his fingers slipped right in.

“Can I . . .” He pushed deeper, grunting. “Will you . . .”

“Yes,” she managed. “Yes.”

He withdrew his fingers and began fumbling with the buttons of his breeches falls. “Say it. I need to know you understand, that you’re fully willing.”

She wasn’t merely willing. She was wanting, desperately.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Take me.”

Arousal rushed through her. She actually felt herself go damp and pink.

“Take me,” she said louder, this time owning the words. Owning the wildness that was a part of her, too. “Take me. Now.”

He positioned himself and entered her on a hard, almost painful thrust. She cried out with the joy of it. With fierce digs of his hips, he worked deeper still. Her pelvis banged his, and the entire post-chaise jounced and rattled on its springs.