His mouth went from nipple to nipple and back and forth, sucking like a starved infant. Dylan wanted to pace himself, make it last. He backed off her titties and let his tongue do some walking. Over her breasts, her stomach, her belly button. He went lower, getting her hot with anticipation, before moving his head back up, gently kissing her neck, then her lips.“Damn, you smell good,” he said.“God, Boy, if you only knew what you do to me.”“You’re doing it to me, too.”“Can I tell you something?” she said. He nodded. “Today, after I left you, I was all mixed up. As soon as I left you, I was sorry I did. Then I wasn’t sorry. I went back and forth. I was all keyed up. So I went to the gym to exercise, you know, work it off. I rode a bike harder than I ever had before. I rode for almost an hour, trying to make up my mind, thinking about you. About kissing you, and about what we did in that music room, and the feeling of your tongue inside me, and how spontaneous and beautiful and raunchy. One unavailable to him. So, he must relieve himself.“Excuse me,” he said and stood up fast and clumsy. In shirtsleeves, without a coat to cover his projecting midriff, he turned in a quick motion. Out of the study, he nearly ran to the guest bedchamber Professor Hayley allowed him to use in his absence. For convenience’s sake, the Professor said, as he would be working late to finish the paper. And also to protect Harriet as she would be mostly alone in the house.At that instant, he was not so sure she was protected.With that thought, he burst into his chamber and shut it with an urgent click.Harriet followed Samuel’s retreat with interest. She assumed what was happening, having a knowledge of men’s lust.At thirty-one, widowhood did not intimidate her. Long ago, such status meant she got release from a bad marriage. If her late husband understood that drinking and brawling in London’s underworld consisted of the best amusement life could offer—and then perished from one of those.
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