She gasped at the same moment he moaned.
“Tell me that I can touch you there, love.”
In answer, her leg hooked around his waist in clear invitation, which made him groan again. But it had been so contentious between them that he needed to hear her say thewords. He’d not do anything else that incited her anger later. Not even this.
“Rebecca,” he growled out. “I need you to invite me.”
“Yes,” she said with a tremble. “Please. I’m ready to burst…”
He smiled as he took her mouth with his again. One hand worked her breast still, the pad of his thumb teasing her nipple into a stiff peak. He slid his other hand to the apex of her sex, the soft curls already so wet for him that he moaned again when he slid a light finger over her seam.
She gave a pitched moan, which he swallowed in his mouth. The next time—and there would be a next time—he’d let her make all the noise she wished, but they were in the garden, and with the summer air, her neighbors’ windows were liable to be open.
He worked his finger up and down her slit again, her hips tilting to encourage his touch as her hand came to front of his breeches, her palm cupping his shaft, drawing a low moan from him.
It was familiar, it was strange, it was everything he’d dreamed of as they touched each other, grinding together until they both panted for breath.
And then he slid a finger inside her as she spasmed around him.
It was his undoing.
He finished too with his cock still safely tucked inside his breeches. “Oh, Rebecca,” he groaned. “What you do to me.”
She clung to him. “Take me inside.”
He didn’t need a second invitation.
She pulled the key from her pocket, and tucking her against his side, he entered their house.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The sisterswho worked for her were able to keep her house clean because she made so little mess, but she was aware, as she noticed Bennet’s eyes skim the kitchen, that he had questions.
“You’ve already told me it’s more house than I should have.”
“I didn’t say a word. Show me the rest.”
She took a deep breath. Now that some of her passion had cleared, she was beginning to wonder if she’d been a bit too wantonly eager…
She’d been clear about her anger, about her feelings on the future. “I’ll show you to the sitting room.”
“We’ve done wonderful things in sitting rooms,” he rumbled behind her.
Her face heated. They had.
When they’d been engaged, they’d found any quiet private place to steal a kiss—or more.
The barn. The fields. The larder.
Intimate touching in public places had only added to the excitement.
For heaven’s sake, even now, they’d had an empty house at their disposal, and they’d chosen to have their little interlude inthe garden. She rolled her eyes as she lit a single candle from the coals in the kitchen stove and then led the way up the back stairs.
“I love your hips,” he said, his hands pressing into them possessively.
Part of her loved the touch. And part of her knew that he was eroding her anger like the tide washed away a pile of sand.
But another part of her wasn’t ready to concede yet. He’d caused her three years of pain. That didn’t wash away in just a few days.