Let It Snow (39 page)

When Kit eased apart and shifted to lie beside her, she was grateful for the reprieve. Because she could not say no if he kissed her, touched her. But neither would the fear subside.

“Let us take our time,” he said. He fingered a curl of her hair. “You are worth the time to savor.” He leaned in, and this time the kiss was soft and smooth like silk, coaxing rather than demanding. The smile he gave warmed her from head to toe. Not with desire, but something else.

Violet did not know what to say, so she swept her fingers over the back of his hand, then his palm, relishing in the feel of her skin on his. There were tiny scars, most not visible to the naked eye, but her fingers found the subtle ridges and valleys. She traced each one slowly, wondering why he had so many marks on his body. They were far too old to be a result of his fight with the footpads.

“Your body carries the marks of many old battles. Did you get them in the war?”

He flinched, but his smile was molten gold. “Some.”

“And…the others?”

At first, the only sound breaking the quiet was a gentle howling of the wind outside. Violet waited, not looking directly at him, but fixing her gaze on his hand.

“Let us say I have known my fair share of cuts, scrapes, and bloody noses.”

Obviously, he remembered, but chose not to share it with her. It bothered her, though she couldn’t pinpoint why. Every man had his secrets; why should Kit be any different?

The question was if he sought to protect her sensibilities from something crude or if he sought to hide something darker and unsavory. She knew so little about him. What if the man she knew was nothing like the man he used to be?

“You have seen many fights then. Is it something you seek or something that seeks you?”

Kit tilted his head and gave her a quizzical stare. “Do you truly want to know?”

“Yes.” If he lied to her in this, he would lie about something else. She needed to know more about the man she desired. Was he a creature of violence, a creature of necessity, or something else altogether?

“I do not know what you saw the day we met. I still cannot remember the thieves on the road. But I am no stranger to the brunt of a fist. I have used mine on many opponents.” He held her hand. “I was a pugilist.”

Images of burly men even bigger than Avery pounding their fists into Kit’s body made her heart squeeze. She touched his face, noting every scar and blemish. She ran her fingers over the bridge of his nose, which had a small jagged spot where it had once been broken.

Violet wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close until she could feel his heartbeat. Her cool cheek pressed into his warm one. The trembling inside subsided as she felt his firm arms around her.

Then she looked into his gaze. They watched one another for a moment.

A thought came to her. He must be good with his hands because his body would be in foul shape if he’d lost many matches. She’d gone with John to a couple of matches in London. It was bloody and brutal, but somehow fascinating.

She’d been one of only a handful of ladies at the match, but she hadn’t been as repulsed as she’d expected to be. After seeing the horrors of the war on the Continent, a few bruises and bloody noses were nothing in comparison.

* * * *

“And I take it you win far more than you lose?” Violet asked him.

She did not seem appalled. Nor was she afraid. When she’d hugged him, he did not know whether she would berate him as Bella would do or if she would turn into a mewling mess.

Violet did neither. Why?

“I do. If I go down, I make sure to take as much blood from my opponent as I can before I fall.”

Kit loved the feel of power running through his fists. His arms were slick, oiled machines primed for battle, though he watched more fights than he participated in. He sponsored two of the top pugilists in England.

“Then I am grateful that it was you who came along that day.” She shivered. “I said it before, but I will say it again.” Holding his face in her hands, she took his mouth to hers, first kissing his lips, then sliding her tongue over his.

Kit held her tightly. She melted into his embrace and he could not imagine letting her go. She tested his resolve not to take her right now. It would be too easy to roll atop of her and slide between her thighs. He took a breath and looked down into her heavy-lidded eyes, which now looked more brown than green.

“If that is the thanks I get for helping a lady in distress, I should do that more often.” He grinned.

She pulled at his shirt and resumed the kiss. The fact that she wanted it as much as he did fueled his lust. There were many ways he could have her without taking her. Maybe he could sample her sweets without devouring the main course.

As he started to speak, Violet put her hand to his lips. “There is plenty for us to discuss later. Right now, I need…” She ran her hands down his chest—making his stomach clench—and kissed him as her fingers fumbled over the fastening of his breeches.

The delicious ache made him so hard that he had to close his eyes and take a deep breath. She was a dream made alive. A wanton woman hidden beneath a wholesome exterior.

“Let me,” he said, reaching for his trousers to help her along.

“No.” The command stopped him. Her gaze was full of fire. “Stay still.” She released his flap, then bent down to work on the buttons beneath it. “Considering that I am about to wear out your strength, you should take as much rest as possible.” The wicked smile on her lips made his cock twitch.

“You are the devil, my lady.”

He was driven mad by the look in her eyes and the feeling of her fingers so close to his erection. “If I were the devil, I would steal your soul. Rest assured that is safe for now. I aim to take your body, instead.”

He hissed as she pulled the last two buttons loose. There was barely time to breathe before she slipped her hands under his trousers.

“Oh!” She exclaimed when she realized that he had nothing on underneath. His stockings tied at the knee, so he was bare under the shirt tucked into his breeches.

She got over her surprise quickly. Taking him in hand, she circled his girth and slid her fingers up to the tip.

He managed to appear calm as she stroked him, when he really wanted to grip the bed sheet and pump into her hand. But a man must always be in control. Besides, she was not his first lover, though he could not remember the face of any other woman, and Kit realized that he did not want to.

She pulled up his shirt and dragged his breeches down. Only his stockings remained. When Violet bent down to remove them, she licked and sucked his thigh. His hips jerked of their own accord.

Though he was half naked, his body was too hot to notice any chill. Violet’s presence was a blanket over him, warming his blood. Quickly, she unlaced his stockings.

“Relax,” she whispered as she palmed his sack. Delicate fingers massaged and kneaded.

“Not fucking possible,” he blurted before he could temper his response.

Violet gave him a look, but otherwise ignored the outburst. She continued to drive him to the edge with her magic fingers—then nearly killed him with her masterful tongue.

“Bloody hell.”

“My, you have a wicked mouth,” she said before she sucked the tip of his cock.

“The same could be said of you,” he retorted.

From the first day he’d awoken, he’d wanted Violet, but he’d assumed that he’d have to coax and soothe her, romance her a bit before she’d give him the liberties he wanted to take. Never had he thought she would be so carnal.

“You think this is wicked?” she teased. Her tongue traced its way from his balls up to the head then swirled around it. When she sucked harder, he groaned. Her hand pumped up and down the shaft.

“Yes.”

“Hmmm,” she replied. “Then that is merely the beginning.”

“What else could you mean?” His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears.

“Help me undress and you will see.” She winked at him.

The bloody woman winked at him! What could she know that he did not? Apparently he had miscalculated the widow’s skill and experience. She was not as innocent as he’d presumed. What other false assumptions had he made about her?

When she turned to let him untie the lacings of her gown, he leaned close, breathing in that sweet, fragrant scent that was unique to Violet. He pressed a kiss to her back.

“Give me a moment,” she said as she pulled the dress off. She climbed back to the bed and started to undo her short stays.

With a sweep of his hand, he pushed her fingers away. This was a present he wished to unwrap himself. When the cloth separated, he cupped her breasts then palmed the front, rotating them in his hands.

The fabric of her chemise could not hide the darker shade of her nipples. They teased and begged him to taste. What could he do but oblige?

He suckled the left bud right through the fabric, enfolding Violet in his arms.

“More,” he whispered before taking the right one into his mouth.

She responded by climbing atop of him. The heat of her sex burned his. His mouth sought hers. He gripped the back of her hair, which was still swept up, despite his propensity for threading his hands into it.

The slow movement of her hips over him was an exquisite torture that he did not want to end. He deepened the kiss, plundering the treasure of her lips until she shivered and whispered his name.

Her eyes looked glassy and her lips were a rosy pink. She couldn’t move because his fingers were still in her hair.

“Now what was the wicked thing you wanted to show me?”

All signs of the haze in her eyes were gone. She gave him a fast peck on the mouth and then swung her legs back over to the side of the bed and climbed down.

“Sit at the edge of the bed,” she commanded. A soft breeze went through her voice when she said, “Would you like the pleasure of undressing me?”

That did not require a response. Taking the hem of her shift, he pulled it up, skimming his hands over her thighs and hips as he went. His head throbbed as he bent forward, but he would not let that pain interfere with making love to her.

“Now hand me a pillow, my lord.”

He grabbed it and thrust it at her, belatedly realizing she’d addressed him as
my lord
rather than ‘sir’ as she usually did.

When she dropped down to the floor, he assumed she meant to continue suckling him. He was happy to oblige and shifted forward to give her access.

She kissed the head, but then lifted up. “Hmmm.” A moment later, she was up and looking through drawers. What the hell? Did she mean to tease him to death? He was about to demand she return when she found a bottle, pulled out the stopper and sniffed it. She smiled and poured a bit into her palms.

His jaw dropped when she massaged her breasts, letting the—oil, yes, oil—drip all over them. Good heavens. It was the only thing she could have done that would excite him more than having her suck on his cock.

As her gaze met his, she winked and rolled her nipples. His hand went right down to his stiff prick and he pumped twice before she said, “Ah-ah, save that for me.”

She put a little more oil on her fingers then set the bottle down on the dresser. Kit clenched his teeth to keep from moving while she padded across the wood floor.

In a moment, she was back down on the pillow. Her slick hands were all over his cock and even his sac—Lord help him. She oiled him everywhere but the slit.

Her mouth was hot on the tip of his shaft and he finally had to grip the covers. How much more could he take?

Violet lifted her breasts and wrapped them around his cock. She slid them up and down, stroking and massaging his erection until he could barely see straight.
Holy hell
. There was no way he’d be able to hold back.

The woman was wicked. There was no denying it now. She’d turned the tables on him and now he had the losing hand. But God, did it feel good.

“Wicked, wicked widow. Did you take lessons from a courtesan?”

Violet grinned. “No. I am quick on my feet and I’ve had a little bit of practice with getting creative when necessity required it.”

He didn’t want to think about her past or his. “But you are not on your feet madam.”

“No, I am not.” She smiled. He should’ve known by the gleam in her eyes that she was up to something because the next thing he knew, she nipped his shaft with her teeth. The sharp sting sent a shiver through him.

“Bloody hell, woman.”

“Should I make it up to you, my lord?” she asked, batting her lashes.

“Coquette.”

“Did you say cock?” She went back to licking and sucking him.

For the third time today, she’d surprised him. What polite gentlewoman used words like that? It was fine for men to use in private company or when he mingled with his boxers, but it was a word forbidden to a respectable lady.

Where had Violet learned such a word?

He didn’t have time to think about it. Supple breasts were gliding over his hard length, making him forget everything but the feel of her soft skin stroking him. She squeezed her breasts, tightening the grip.

Thrusting upward, he pushed his cock through the valley of her breasts over and over until his balls were tighter than a screw.

His moans increased as his control spiraled far out of reach. “God help me,” he groaned.

“Well, the good Lord isn’t here, but I’ll do my best in his place.” She gave him another one of her impudent looks before she licked the head of his prick and blew on it. The cool breeze sent shivers through his entire body.

Violet took hold of his shaft and tapped the tip on her nipples. First the right, then the left. Then she repeated the process.

It was too much. When she took him between her breasts once more, his cock exploded, his semen splashing over her neck and breasts. She licked the rest from the head.

“You are far too wicked for your own good,” he said as soon as he could regain his breath.

“The question is: are you wicked enough?”

“Do not test me.”

“Hmmm. Why not?”

“Keep pushing me and you will find out.” The woman had a mouth more tart than a lemon.