Worth Any Price by Lisa Kleypas Page A

softly.
    What he’d had from Gemma. No, more than Gemma had ever given him. He wanted someone to belong to him. To care about him. To need him in some way. He didn’t know if that was possible…but he was willing to gamble everything on Lottie. She was his only chance.
    “I’ll show you.” Nick reached out and caught her wrist, pulling until she half-sat, half-toppled beside him. Sliding a hand behind the nape of her neck, he bent over her, finding her pulse with the tip of his tongue. At the same time, he brought her hand to his crotch, cupping her slender fingers around the straining shape of his erection. She stiffened and gasped, suddenly leaning against his chest as if her strength had deserted her. Gently he drew her hand up the length of his shaft, to the round head that pushed impatiently against the taut broadcloth.
    A ragged sound escaped him, and he tugged at her blouse, filled with gratitude to whoever had designed a garment that made a woman’s body somercifully accessible. Her exposed breasts gleamed in the firelight, their tips soft and pale pink. Lottie turned her face to the side, her eyes tightly closed. Pulling her farther over his lap, Nick cradled her in one arm, while her bottom rested on the rigid mound of his erection. His calloused fingers slipped beneath one bare breast, lifting the silken weight to position her for the slow descent of his mouth. A quiver went through her as he opened his lips over the tender nipple, stroking until it strained against his tongue. Lottie’s hands half-raised as if to push him away, but suddenly her fingers clutched around the lapels of his coat, and she let out a whimper of pleasure. The sound electrified him. He used his tongue to trace circles around the stiffening nipple, making her writhe like a cat in his arms.
    While he continued to suckle and tease her breasts, he slid his hand beneath her skirts, finding the plain hem of her drawers and the thick cotton garter that fastened her stockings. Becoming aware of the hand that intruded beneath her skirts, Lottie clenched her legs together, a crimson blush spreading over her face and breasts. He caressed her over the crumpled linen, sliding his palm over her hip and stomach, then moving to the soft curls lower down.
    “Don’t,” she said, her eyes still closed.
    Nick kissed the pink curve of her throat and the fine edge of her jaw. Her skin was so thin and satiny that it was almost translucent. He wanted to kiss her from head to toe. “That’s not how a mistresstalks,” he whispered. “Are you reneging on your offer, Lottie?”
    She shook her head, unable to speak as his palm pressed on her mound.
    “Then spread your legs.”
    She complied jerkily, her thighs parting, her head falling back against his supportive arm. He caressed her over the fragile fabric, gently rubbing the hot furrow until the linen became damp beneath his fingers. He was aroused by her efforts to stay quiet and still, her face turning scarlet, her legs stiffening as he teased her intimately. Finally she moaned and clutched at his wrist imploringly.
    “That’s enough,” she gasped.
    His cock pulsed violently beneath her. “Is it?” he whispered, sliding his fingers into the open slit of her drawers. “I think you want more.”
    Her body jerked in his lap as he found softly matted hair…plump silken flesh…the wet entrance to her body. Kissing the arch of her throat, Nick played with the velvety thicket. “Sweet little curls,” he breathed near Lottie’s ear. “What color are they, I wonder? Blond, like the hair on your head? Or darker?”
    Shocked by the question, Lottie stared at him with an unfocused gaze.
    “It’s all right,” he said, opening the soft cleft. “I’ll find out for myself…later.”
    She arched as he found the tender peak that had been hidden by the protective folds. “Oh…oh, God—”
    “Shhhh.” He nipped the lobe of her ear. “You don’t want Westcliff to hear, do you?”
    “Stop