A Lady's Wish by Katharine Ashe Page A

I would give you?”
    She made a sound like a groaning whimper. It was too good, feeling him. “God, yes. Yes .”
    He teased her nipple through the thin linen of her shift. She pressed into him and his hand came around her thigh. She struggled for air. He was touching her —her skin beneath his, touching his.
    “Nik, I—”
    “Is this what I would have taken from a gently bred maiden?” He stroked the tender inside of her thigh, his heat and touch all for her, bringing her body to life.
    She reached for the fly of his trousers. “You did want this then, didn’t you?”
    He grabbed her hand and stilled her.
    “I would not have been a man if I had not wanted to make love to you that day. But I would not have taken it if you had offered.”
    “Why not? Was I not—?”
    “You were perfect.” He traced the line of her lips with the tip of his tongue, stealing her breath. “Perfect.”
    She trembled, every part of her aching for him.
    “Please do it now,” she whispered. “It has been years, but I should be able to manage . . .” Her words petered out. A smile lurked about his lips. He pulled away and tugged off his boots then his shirt, and began on the fastenings of his trousers.
    Air puffed out of her in little bursts.
    “Will you blow out the candles now?” Please God, no . Oliver had never undressed before her, but even if he had there was no comparison. She drank in the vision of Nik’s muscles, sleek and powerful, and the line of dark hair that drew her attention downward. He was pure breathtaking male, from the jagged scar crossing one shoulder all the way to—
    She snapped her gaze away. Good heavens. The Americans had gotten it quite wrong. All men were not created equal.
    She sought for words, any words. “How on earth did my aunt know about your scar?”
    “Soldier. Likely guess.” He spoke roughly, quick. His eyes scanning her seemed molten, his gaze so intense.
    “So, will you blow out the candles?” she repeated, voice quite small.
    “No.”
    “But I thought—”
    “I have dreamt of this for years. I will not be denied the sight of you.” He caught her hands and held them to the counterpane, palm-to-palm, then covered her open mouth and came into her with his tongue in shallow, tantalizing strokes. She pressed against him, seeking the sensation of his arousal against hers. His hands moved her hips against his and her need spiraled.
    She broke free of his kiss.
    “Please, Nik. Please, now.”
    Swiftly he pushed her shift up and she wiggled to get beneath him fully. But he did not stop at her waist as she expected, tugging the linen over her breasts and sweeping it free of her arms and hair.
    “Dear God. So beautiful.” His hands, large and rough, circled her waist then slipped up and over her breasts.
    “ Oh !”
    He covered her with his mouth. She had never imagined it, never fantasized this, never knew such a thing could be. He sucked on her breast, his mouth wet and hot, and stroked the peak with his tongue. Too good. Too unbelievably good. She whimpered and strained to him, damp heat throbbing at the crux of her legs. Then he touched her there, and she went wild. He caressed with his beautiful hand like he belonged there, like she belonged to him to do with as he wished. She rocked against him, unable to withhold her cries, all modesty cast off. He took her nipple harder and his caressing tongue made her frantic, the wicked play of his fingers seizing her below, so sweet and hot and unending. She died. She was his. He might touch her forever and she would live for this alone.
    Gasping for breath, she collapsed into the mattress, pleasure curling through her.
    Then came awareness again. And embarrassment.
    “What happened?” She retracted her limbs from the man around whom she had wrapped them. “I— Why didn’t you make love to me?”
    He took up her hand and pressed his mouth to it, then flattened it against his chest, and laughter came beneath her palm.
    “Remarkable