Rebecca Hagan Lee (31 page)

Chapter Thirty-four

“We are well matched, you and I, perfectly suited to one another.”

—ANONYMOUS

W
ill had shaved and was soaking in a tub of hot water, leaning his head against the rim, when he heard a noise that sounded like pacing coming from the suite of rooms connected to his.

Stepping out of the bath, he didn’t bother to towel off, but pulled a dressing gown on over his wet body and padded barefoot from the bathroom to the door that connected his bedchamber to the one next door. Lifting his hand, he knocked on the door. “Julie? Is that you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Can’t sleep?” He’d felt rested and relaxed in the bathtub, dead tired and yawning broadly, but at the sound of her husky whisper, his body reacted in the predictable manner, and he was hard and aching with desire.

“No.”

“Aren’t you tired?” he asked, hoping she’d say she wasn’t.

“Very,” she admitted, “but I can’t sleep. I don’t quite know what’s wrong with me. I’m restless and achy and out of sorts. . . .”

“Would you care for some company?” he asked.

“I don’t know if I would be good company right now.”

He begged to differ. In fact, he was about ready to beg, period.
“I’m willing to risk it if you are.” Will held his breath as she turned the key in the lock and opened the door.

They were dressed alike, both wearing dressing gowns and nothing else. The difference was that Will was wet. His dressing gown clung to him in several places.

“Oh!”
She stared at the damp wedge of hair on Will’s chest, visible through the opening in his robe.

“I was afraid I was underdressed,” he teased, “but we appear to have had the same idea.”

Julie warmed to the twinkle in his eyes, emboldened by the way he looked at her. She felt brave and a little shy at the same time. “The nightgown Elizabeth loaned me was too long. I couldn’t walk without tripping on it, so I took it off.” She thought now would be the time to act coy or mysterious, but it was beyond her.

“I’m delighted to hear it.”

He was such a gorgeous man—in every sense of the word. He was handsome and brave and generous and strong, with the most direct moral compass of any person she had ever known. She loved the way he spoke . . . and she couldn’t take her eyes off his chest.

He noticed. “Feel free to explore,” he invited.

“I-I . . .” she began. “You haven’t claimed your last prize,” she reminded him.

He didn’t pretend not to know what she meant. “I haven’t, have I?”

Julie shook her head. “I’ve thought about it all afternoon. Worried about it, really. You see, we played lawn croquet for prizes”—bits of colored ribbon they’d worn pinned to their clothing like medals of honor—“and it occurred to me that I still owed you a prize from our wager at our last game of billiards and that I had forgotten to remind you to collect it.”

“And you can’t sleep unless you get that failure on my part off your mind?”

“Something like that.” Julie looked up at him. “As a missionary, I consider it my duty to look out for your soul.”

“Just my soul, Julia Jane?” He sounded disappointed.

“Well,” she drawled, “I am partial to other parts of you as well.”

The air seemed to thicken around them. Julie was suddenly hot, the silk robe almost too painful to wear. Her skin had grown incredibly sensitive to the scrape of the silk whenever she moved. She had unbound her breasts while she was preparing to take her bath this morning, and left them unbound when she’d donned her Chinese dress. Now she could feel the bounce of them every time she moved. The silk of her robe teased them, and the tips of her breasts were standing firm and straight at attention, like two soldiers standing watch. And the sensitive area between her thighs seemed heavy, engorged and damp and tingling.

Julie had the sudden urge to fling her robe off and throw caution to the winds. She wanted—no, needed—to feel the cool air against her overheated flesh. She inhaled sharply, taking in the scent of him, the spicy soap he used that gave him his unique smell. She wanted to bury her nose in the hair on his chest, wanted to feel the texture of it and see just how much of him it covered. She wanted to touch him and taste him and have him touch and taste her as well.

Some of what she was thinking must have shown on her face, because Will asked, “Feeling scandalous, Julia Jane?”

“Yes,” she murmured, hoping he would understand. “But I don’t know how to proceed.”

“We could wager,” Will suggested, knowing Julie couldn’t resist a bet.

“I don’t have a billiards table in my room,” she told him. “Is there one in yours?”

There was one downstairs in the parlor that opened into Jamie’s study, but he doubted Julie was willing to make good use of it. She was, after all, a lady. Will chuckled. “There are other ways to wager, Julie.”

He stared at her, his light brown eyes seeming to bore right through her to discern her innermost thoughts. “What ways?” she wondered.

“We could cut cards.”

“How?”

“Follow me,” he invited. “I have a pack in my room.” He had a deck on the bedside table. He’d placed them within reach in the event that he found it hard to fall asleep. He could entertain himself with a few hands of solitary card games until he felt tired.

Julie followed him into his bedroom and to the bed. “Have a seat,” he invited, patting the top of the coverlet.

She sat, gingerly perching on the side of the bed until Will taunted her by saying, “You can do better than that, Julia Jane. Live dangerously.”

She recognized his baiting for what it was and smiled. She had a bounty on her head and was forced to wear a disguise in order to protect herself from men who would take money to kill her. She was already living as dangerously as she possibly could. Except . . .

Will Keegan knew how to issue the perfect challenge for her. He knew her. Knew she couldn’t resist the twinkle in his eye when he dared her to try something scandalous. So she wiggled her way to the center of Will’s bed and sat cross-legged, something she’d never done in the company of anyone except Su Mi, and then only when they were children. But she did it now, covering the private part of her with the ends of her dressing gown.

“Very scandalous.” Will nodded approvingly, wondering whether she realized that her sitting position drew his attention to the place she had modestly covered with the tail of her robe. He slit the seal on the pack of cards with his thumbnail, discarded the jokers, and shuffled the deck.

When he completed the shuffle, he placed the deck of cards facedown on the bed, then lay down across the coverlet, propping his head on his hand, angling himself so he could focus on the part of her anatomy she’d carefully covered. “The rules are simple. Cut the cards like so.” He demonstrated by cutting the deck, then placed his cut portion back on top and reshuffled it. “Ladies first. Aces are high, and high card wins.”

“What do we win?” she asked.

“Let’s make it interesting. . . .”

As if sitting on a man’s bed in the middle of the night wearing a dressing gown and nothing else wasn’t interesting . . . “All right.”

“High card wins. Loser takes off his or her robe.”

“What happens when both our robes are off?” She was excited and breathless with anticipation as she asked the question.

“Pleasure. Just like before. Winner gets to do anything that will bring him or her pleasure. With the caveat that if I do something that makes you uncomfortable, you can call a halt to our game with no hard feelings.”

“It’s a deal.” She stuck out her hand.

Will shook it, then let it go and said, “Your cut.”

Julie cut the deck and turned her card up. “Queen of diamonds.”

Will took his cut. “Ten of clubs.” He looked at her, his gaze hot and hungry. “Congratulations, you win.” He placed his card back on top of the deck. “Do you want me standing or on the bed?”

Julie moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. She wasn’t quite sure what wanting him entailed, but want him she did. Now. On the bed. At the moment she would wager that he was the most wanted man in California. “Bed.”

Will felt his body react to her one-word reply, spoken in that low, husky whisper that he’d come to associate with Julie. He shifted his weight against the mattress, untied the belt at his waist, peeled his robe away from his damp body, and tossed it on the floor.

Julie sucked in a breath. He was more gorgeous than she could have imagined. His shoulders were broad, his chest well muscled and covered with thick, curly hair. She followed the pattern of chest hair with her gaze. It disappeared when it reached his stomach—a stomach that was remarkably taut and rippled with rows of muscles—and reappeared below his navel as a little trail that led to a thatch of thick hair surrounding . . .

Julie blinked. “Oh, my . . .”

She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until he gifted her with a naughty smile.

“‘Oh, my,’ is it?”

She blushed to the roots of her red hair.

“Are those your words for it?” Will teased.

His playfulness loosened her tongue. “It isn’t as if I’ve never seen a naked man before,” she protested. “I’ve seen plenty. After all, I’ve been in most every brothel in San Francisco. . . .”

Will traced her nose with his index finger. The twinkle in his eyes darkened to something that smoldered. “So you’re a young lady of some experience. . . .”

Julie frowned. “Only
visual
experience . . .”

Leaning over, Will planted a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Do you think you might enjoy a more
tactile
experience?”

She nodded.

Taking her hand, he placed it not where he most wanted it, but on his chest, so she could explore at her own pace. Even if it killed him
.

Julie loved the feel of his skin, loved the warmth he generated, and the rough hair on his chest. She threaded her fingers through it and followed where it led, across his muscles, over his firm, flat nipples, over his abdomen, around his navel, through the thick hair at the base of his shaft and up to the velvety soft tip. “And what do
you
call it?” she taunted as she gently caressed him.

“I call it sheer bliss.” Will barely managed to get the words out. “But you’re welcome to call it anything you like. . . .” He sighed in pleasure.

“Does it hurt?” She moistened her lips once again.

As he watched her tongue slip through the seam of her lips, Will’s penis jumped in reaction. He groaned. “Only if you stop.”

Julie leaned closer to him to get a better look at the drop of liquid glimmering on the head of his penis. “Is it always like this?”

“It is when I think about you.”

“Only me?” she asked.

“Only you,” he answered, hoping he’d be able to keep himself from imploring her to do more.

Julie touched the pearl of liquid with the pad of her index finger. The feel was incredible. It was like warm wet silk. She smoothed the little drop over the head and watched Will’s reaction.

He tried to smother his moan of pleasure, but Julie surprised him by moving closer, scrambling across the mattress, dislodging the deck of cards, scattering them all over the bed.

It was impossible for her to keep her distance. Every instinct she possessed urged her closer—and Julie followed her instincts. Leaning forward, she kissed him on the mouth.

Reaching up, Will tangled his fingers in her hair and gently pulled her down, holding her pressed against his chest as he deepened his kiss, tightening his embrace, sliding his hands to her back in a smooth, fluid motion that sent her senses spiraling. His kiss was everything she’d learned to expect from his kisses. It was everything she hoped for. It was soft and gentle and tender and sweet and enticing and hungry and hot and wet and deep and persuasive at once. It coaxed and demanded, asked and expected a like response, and Julie obliged.

She parted her lips when he asked entrance into the warm recesses of her mouth, and shivered with delight at the first exploratory thrust of his tongue against hers. She met it with her own, returning each stroke, beginning a devastatingly thorough exploration of him.

Will was torn between bliss and frustration. He was fighting to keep the promise he’d made not to rush her. He was going to be a considerate lover and allow her to set the pace of their lovemaking—no matter what it cost him. With that thought in mind, he let his arms fall to his sides and abruptly broke contact with her lips. He drew in several ragged breaths and leaned his forehead against the top of her head, struggling for control. God, he loved kissing this woman!

“Will?”

He was gratified to discover that Julie’s breathing was nearly as labored as his own. “Yes?”

“Would you mind very much if I stayed here with you tonight?”

He bit back his groan. “I’d like that,” he said. “On one condition . . .”

“You have conditions?”

“Only one.”

“What’s that?”

“Remove your robe.” He rubbed his hands up and down the silk of her dressing gown, sensitizing her skin even more.

She smiled. “Concede without cutting cards? I don’t think that’s fair, do you? I mean, you lost. I didn’t.”