Kathryn Smith - [Friends 03] (31 page)

Rising up above her, he removed his own dressing gown, tossing it on the floor without so much as a glance as to where it landed. A wave of pleasure washed over him as he watched her gaze travel the length of his nude body. In her eyes he saw the same hunger and wonder that he felt when he looked at her.

He kissed her neck, the warm hollow of her throat where her pulse fluttered like a butterfly's wings. He tasted her there, where she smelled faintly of lavender soap and clean skin, and lower— down her chest to the baby-fine skin between her breasts.

He cupped the weight of her breasts in his hands, lightly dragging his thumbs across the puckering peaks. A shudder raced through him as Sophia gasped in pleasure. Her nipples were so sensitive, so incredibly receptive to his slightest touch. The pink buds beneath his fingers stood high and erect, their color deepening under his attentions. Julian lowered his mouth to one, sucking it between his lips and tasting it with the flat of his tongue.

God he loved the feel of her in his mouth. Loved her taste, the texture, the way she cried out when he nipped lightly with his teeth. He suckled her flesh until her fingers tangled in his hair, then he turned his attentions to the other breast. When he had her writhing beneath him, he knew it was time to move on. Downward he traveled, planting kisses along the soft flesh of her ribcage, dipping into her navel with his tongue, nuzzling her belly and rubbing his freshly shaven jaw over the pale curve there.

Kneeling between her legs, his hands braced on either side of the generous flare of her hips, Julian eased toward the thatch of ebony curls at the juncture of Sophia's thighs with heart-pounding anticipation.

How long would this fascination with her body last? How many years would pass before he ceased to worship every inch of her? He had thought that once he bedded her a few times his interest would wane, but it hadn't. If anything, it had grown stronger. He didn't just want her; he craved her. And not just her body— it was her. Sophia.

He pressed his lips against the curls, feeling the dampness there.

"Do you want me to taste you?" he asked softly, gazing up the breathtaking length of her.

Her black eyes were heavy-lidded and bright with passion. "Yes."

A low groan broke free of Julian's throat as he lowered his head to the humid valley before him. All that mattered now was pleasing her. He wanted to hear her pants of pleasure, wanted to feel her shudder around him as her climax rocked her. He wanted to know he was the only man to ever make her feel such joy.

The only man who ever
could
make her feel such joy.

He worked her into a frenzy with his tongue, concentrating on the firm, hooded nub that would eventually lead to her climax. He stopped just before her cries of pleasure reached that exquisite peak. Normally he would relish sending her crashing into the abyss of pleasure this way, but he had something else in mind.

She stared up at him, eyes glazed with sensation and confusion.

"Roll over," he told her, his voice low and rough in his own ears.

Her expression was uncertain, but he knew that at this point her body would do almost anything he asked, with the hope of him finishing what he had started.

Sophia rolled onto her stomach, revealing the long, delicate indent of her back and full round curve of her buttocks to his appreciative gaze. Julian ran his hands down the smooth ivory of her spine, cupped the blushing cheeks of her bottom.

Nudging her legs apart with his knee, he moved between her thighs. "Lift your hips for me."

She lifted her head, watching him over her shoulder. "I beg your pardon?"

He reached down, sliding his hands beneath her pelvis. Gently, he pulled upwards, guiding her hips toward his. She was hesitant, but she didn't try to stop him. In fact, she braced herself on her forearms for support.

"What are you doing?" She inquired with a gasp as he probed the opening of her body with his aching erection.

He slid the head inside her. His eyelids closed on a sigh of ecstasy. "Have you ever made love this way before, Sophia?"

"N— no." There was uncertainty and desire in her voice as he penetrated her even farther.

"Do you like it?"

"I— " Whatever she was going to say was cut off by a low keening moan as he buried himself inside her.

"You will," he promised. "All you have to do is trust me."

Holding her tightly, Julian began to move. The angle of her hips made every stroke more acute than the last. The sweet grip of her body around his and the soft coos of encouragement slipping breathlessly from between her lips heightened the urgency in his blood.

He reached beneath her with one hand, his fingers parting the silky curls between her thighs and finding the tiny mound his tongue had savored moments earlier. He stroked it, eliciting a sharp gasp from the woman beneath him.

The rhythm of his body matched that of his busy fingers. Thrusting in as his fingers stroked up, Sophia rocked her hips against him, spreading her thighs wide and arching her back.

"Do you trust me, Sophia?" He asked, increasing the tempo of his thrusts as his fingers quickened their pace.

He could feel her body tensing, could feel the tremble of her arms and thighs as she pushed herself toward climax. She was getting close. So very close.

"Yes." She gasped as he thrust hard, plunging deep within her. "Yes, Julian. I trust you."

Bending over her, Julian was without mercy as he stroked her with his body and his fingers.

"Do you love me?"

His only answer was the cry that tore free of Sophia's throat as her body tensed and shuddered around him. Her release triggered his own and he just barely managed to grab hold of one of the posts to keep from falling when his knees buckled beneath him. Everything else ceased to exist except for this mind-numbing moment.

Some time later, as they lay together, he turned his head to look upon her. Her expression was one of utter contentment; her breathing was that of a person in the deepest of slumbers.

Sighing, Julian drew the coverlet over them. It wasn't long before he was drifting off himself, and as sleep claimed him, he realized that even though she hadn't said a word, Sophia had given him a pretty satisfying answer to his question.

When Sophia awoke for the second time that morning, it was to find herself alone on Julian's bed, the coverlet pulled down over her back and her dressing gown bunched beneath her.

Lifting up on her forearms, she looked groggily around the richly masculine bedchamber. Her husband was nowhere to be seen.

Insufferable swine
, she thought with a smile. How dare he not sleep away the day with her. He was probably off somewhere with Brave and Gabriel, challenging anyone who dare impugn her honor. Foolish, wonderful man.

She had almost told him she loved him. Only the fact that the pleasure his body gave hers robbed her of any ability to speak had saved her.

Why was it so important that he hear her say it? He had yet to make any such declaration of his own. He could hardly expect her to make herself so vulnerable to him— not a second time, no matter how much she might be tempted to.

Edmund used to ask her to tell him she loved him, and she had said the words because they pleased him, not because she meant them. Julian was different. He wanted her to mean them and that scared her more than Edmund's demands ever could. Love wasn't something one could take back once it was given, and just once, Sophia would like to be certain that when she pledged her heart to a man he would give her his in return.

Perhaps next time she was in control of their lovemaking she should ask Julian if he loved her and see how he responded. Perhaps he would tell her the words she wanted to hear. No, if she ever gathered enough courage to ask him, she would do it when his mind was on something other than sexual release. She did not want him to say he loved her just because his body loved how hers made him feel.

Tossing back the coverlet, she gathered up her dressing gown and rose from the bed. She crossed the carpet to the wash stand and cleaned away the residue of their lovemaking from between her thighs.

Once she finished washing, Sophia shrugged into her dressing gown and rang for her maid. Half an hour later, dressed in a fashionable morning gown of bottle green muslin, her hair swept up into a simple knot on the back of her head, Sophia entered the breakfast room. It was going on eleven. Julian was gone, but Letitia— who kept more socially acceptable hours— was just sitting down to breakfast.

Sophia had seen little of her sister-in-law since that night she had caught her sneaking into the house. She was pleased to see that the younger woman looked much like her old self this morning. Dressed in a simple peach-colored gown, Letitia looked like a sprite sitting at the round oak table.

She smiled as Sophia entered the room— a good sign that everything was fine between them. "You are up late this morning."

Sophia couldn't help the heat that crept into her cheeks. "I was up earlier but found I needed a nap. May I join you?"

"Of course." Letitia gestured to the sideboard behind her. It was laden with silver covered dishes. "Cook always prepares far too much for me."

Taking a plate from the low cupboard in the buffet, Sophia piled it high with buttered eggs, ham, sausage and toast. She was ravenous. Nothing like being ravished in the morning to give a woman an appetite.

Letitia arched a thin brow when she saw the amount of food on her plate. "Your nap made you hungry, I see."

Sophia's expression was one of mock hauteur. "I am a restless sleeper. I always wake up hungry."

"Hmm. I have always wondered why so many women gain weight after they marry," Letitia remarked with a grin. "I am beginning to understand now. All those…
naps
."

Sophia couldn't help but laugh, even as she flushed clear up to her hairline.

"I would be impertinent and ask you for details, as any inquisitive friend would," the younger woman continued, "but since it would involve discovering things about my brother that I have absolutely no desire to know about the tyrant, I will abstain."

Despite the jovial tone of her friend's voice, Sophia's smile faded. "Have you spoken to him?"

Letitia shook her head as she spread marmalade on her toast with the back of her spoon. "Not since we fought, no."

"How long is this silence going to last?"

Letitia took a bite of toast, making Sophia wait for an answer until she had chewed and swallowed.

"Not very long, I expect." A slow smile curved the young woman's lips. "Marcus is coming to speak to Julian either today or tomorrow."

Unable to contain her squeal of delight, Sophia muffled it with her hand. "Oh, Lettie! How wonderful!"

Grinning foolishly, Letitia nodded. "I could scarcely believe it when Marcus told me. He is convinced that his invesments will soon pay off and that he will be able to prove to Julian that he can provide a good life for us until he inherits the earldom."

It certainly sounded as though they had everything planned out, and Sophia wasn't about to start asking questions that might burst her friend's bubble. She was happy for Letitia, blissfully so. She only hoped that Julian would share in the joy rather than squashing it by being the overly protective elder brother.

Julian still saw his sister as a child. He expected her to believe that he knew what was best for her, and he truly believed it himself. It was fairly ironic coming from a man who had refused to marry her the first time because he felt it was expected of him.

Putting thoughts of Julian and what could happen from her mind, Sophia concentrated on her sister-in-law's happiness. As they ate their breakfasts they talked of fashion and society, and filled each other in on all the collective gossip they had both heard.

Lord and Lady Carnover were expecting their second child, Letitia told her. Apparently the earl was hoping for a girl this time. And some young woman rejected by her lover had attempted to drown herself in the Serpentine as the poet Shelley's wife had done more than two years earlier, but changed her mind when she discovered how cold the water was.

"I have never understood taking one's own life by drowning," Letitia remarked, a slight edge to her voice. "It does not seem a very nice way to die."

Sophia gazed at her friend in dismay. She was not good in such situations. She never knew what to say. If it were anyone else, she would dismiss it, but Letitia's sister had committed suicide in such a manner and obviously the wound her death had left behind had yet to fully heal.

"Perhaps we might blame it on Shakespeare," she replied, with a degree of forced lightness. "Ophelia made it seem quite tragic and romantic in Hamlet."

Much to her surprise Letitia smiled. It was a sad smile, but a smile all the same. "Miranda would have liked being compared to Ophelia, I think. Everything was tragic and romantic as far as she was concerned."

Was there any other way of thinking as far as the Rexleys were concerned?

Thankfully, a knock at the door interrupted the melancholy drift to their conversation. Mrs. Yorke bustled into the room, a pleasant smile on her round face.

"Begging your pardon, my lady," she said, addressing Sophia, "but this is just arrived."

She handed Sophia a sealed missive, which Sophia accepted with thanks. The plump housekeeper smiled even broader and bobbed a quick curtsey before exiting again.

"Who is it from?" Letitia asked, slicing off a bite of ham.

Turning the letter over in her hand, Sophia shrugged as she studied the handwriting on the front. "I have no idea."

"Well, open it!"

Chuckling at her sister-in-law's impatient tone, Sophia broke the seal and opened the letter. There was a bank draft inside.

"Oh dear." Lifting the draft, she stared at it, her eyes widening.

"Well?" Letitia demanded.

Sophia glanced down at the letter, her eyes quickly reading the few lines written there.

"It is from Mr. Murray, the man who published
An Unfortunate Attachment
. He says this draft is mine— monies earned from sales of the book. He writes that since revealing myself as the author demand for the book has been overwhelming. He wonders if I might consider…writing another."