Jasper caught her hand and put it back. “Don’t be frightened or shy. Whatever you do, I promise to enjoy it.”
“I do not want you to simply enjoy it,” she argued, meeting his gaze. “I want to be exceptionally good at pleasing you. I want to be memorable.”
Jasper exhaled in a rush, the allusion to temporariness goading every proprietary instinct he possessed.
Eliza’s fingers moved featherlight over the flesh of his upper arm. Then, she grew bolder and squeezed.
“You are so hard,” she whispered. Her gaze moved over his chest and abdomen, followed by her hands. She lingered over his stomach, tracing every ridge of muscle. “And large. You are like a great, sleek beast. A virile animal.”
A visible shiver moved through her, which set off an answering response in him. “You like that about me.”
“I shouldn’t. You are too wild and undisciplined. I’m not woman enough to tame you.”
“You wouldn’t want me tamed.” He caught her hand again and urged it to his cock, prodding her fingers to wrap around him. Her tentative touch was like lightning, causing the hair on his legs to prickle. “Part of you may be appalled at my primitive approach to certain matters, but part of you wouldn’t have me any other way.”
“You are very arrogant.”
“I take no credit for your attraction. My parents are responsible for my appearance, and my ruthlessness is equally inherent. I am, however, grateful they win your regard. Contrary to your opinion, you are the perfect female for me.”
Her other hand joined the first, cupping him. Her hands were so slender; she could not circle him in her grip.
“What wins your regard?” she asked, tracing a thick vein with her fingertip.
“Your honesty and good s-sense,” he hissed, shuddering as she clasped the head of his cock in her palm. “Your agile mind and independent thought. And the way you respond to me physically. By God, I cannot get enough of that. You melt for me, softening all those hard edges you use to keep others at bay.”
Eliza’s tongue followed the curve of her lower lip. Her eyes had grown heavy-lidded, betraying how well she enjoyed touching him so intimately. Or perhaps it was what he’d said. Jasper reached up and cupped her breast, his thumb and forefinger surrounding the delicate peak and tugging. She made a soft noise of pleasure.
“Lie atop me,” he said hoarsely.
She hesitated, looking unsure. He showed her the way, steadying her with his hands on her waist as she draped her slim body over him. Cupping her nape, he pulled her lips down to his. He kissed her with open-mouthed hunger, drinking her in with deep draws on her tongue. She kissed him back with equal fervency, her lips slanting across his, her hands clutching the counterpane on either side of him.
He groaned, feeling ravenous but wanting no more than this for now. It wasn’t enough and yet it was too much, the act of kissing both erotic and sweet. The feel of her slight weight stretched across him was one he adored, and the sudden smattering of tiny kisses she pressed all over his lips made him laugh with delight.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, knowing he could never give up this intimacy. He was willing to grovel to keep it. “I will make mistakes. I don’t know how to do this, how to be what you deserve.”
Eliza kissed him quiet. “We’ll show one another how to be what the other needs,” she breathed. “I want to be the one who gets inside you. The one you cannot forget…”
Jasper thrust his fingers into her hair and took her mouth in a long, deep kiss. He had no notion of what time it was, and he didn’t care. He just knew he didn’t want it to end.
Chapter 10
Eliza had never fully appreciated the restorative properties of salt baths. However, Jasper insisted she take one before leaving his home the evening before and suggested she might avail herself of one in the morning as well. Having taken his advice, she felt much better, although there was still lingering soreness in unmentionable places.
She was also starving, as she often was after strenuous activity. She ate far more at breakfast than was usual and remained at the table for some time after Melville excused himself. With the late morning sunshine slanting through the window at her back, Eliza read the paper and chose not to think about all the many things she should be thinking about. Instead she chose to dissect the waltz in her mind, remembering the way it was taught to her and improving upon that teaching method.
Jasper would be calling later for his first dance lesson. She was eager for him to become proficient so she could share a dance with him in public. A thrill moved through her at the thought of being in his arms in full view of everyone. It would be a delicious challenge to be decorous at a time when she would be so physically stimulated.
Eliza turned the page and tapped her foot to a tune playing in her head. After returning home at ten o’clock the night before, she’d stayed in. She was perfectly content to read the various renditions of last night’s events in the gazettes, having previously come to the conclusion that the printed tales were often more entertaining than the reality.
“Eliza.”
Glancing up, she smiled as her uncle reentered the room. “Yes, my lord?”
He rounded the long wooden table with a frown. Today was one of the few days when every piece of his attire was the way it should be, signaling a hard-won victory for his lordship’s valet.
“The Earl of Westfield is here,” he said, pausing beside her.
“Oh?”
“He has expressed an interest in paying his addresses to you.”
Eliza blinked up at him. “Beg your pardon?”
“He wants to wed you. And speak with you. He awaits you in the parlor.”
She folded the paper carefully, her thoughts rushing forward and stumbling all over themselves. With her brain arrested by confusion, her attention moved to the delicate lace runner that bisected the table. Her gaze slowly shifted to the brass candelabra that stood in the center. The antique piece was surrounded by a ring of pink roses, just as she was surrounded by sudden marriage proposals.
Melville cleared his throat and pulled her chair back from the table. “I was not aware you and Westfield were well acquainted.”
Eliza stood. “I hardly know him.”
“It would be an excellent match, much more advantageous than marrying Montague.”
“Absolutely,” she agreed, linking her arm with his and following his lead toward the door. Westfield was handsome, wealthy, and widely respected. He was also a friend of Jasper’s, which made his offer decidedly more curious.
“How do you feel about this?” his lordship asked as they left the room.
“I wish I knew. Perhaps I’ll have a better idea after I speak with him. How did you respond?”
“I wished him luck.”
“What about me? Do you wish me luck, too?”
“I wish you happy, dear. In whatever form suits you best.” He kissed her cheek. “Now, go on. Don’t keep West-field waiting.”
Eliza set off on her own toward the front of the house. It was late enough in the day that the sun no longer shined directly through the glass around the front door. The familiar stillness of her home was usually comforting, but today it emphasized the disturbance created by the earl’s visit. A second offer of marriage in as many days. She could hardly credit it.
As she entered the formal parlor, Eliza collected that West-field’s reason for visiting wasn’t the sole cause of her unease. His physical presence was palpable. His person fairly crackled with a vibrant energy very much at odds with Jasper’s quiet, intensely watchful air.
“Good morning, my lord,” she said.
“Miss Martin.” Westfield stood. He was as tall as Jasper, though not as broad or muscular. If pressed for a description, she would call him “elegant” and very dashing. “You look radiant.”