An Improper Governess: An Improper Liaisons Novella, Book 2 by Amy Rose Bennett Page A
Authors: Amy Rose Bennett
Ads: Link
right if she did catch him out. Indeed, she’d only found out by pure accident that the man possessed such a singular habit. Who on earth swam sans garments during the day when others might be about? Only a fool or a reprobate of the first order.
Yes, Sir Nicholas only had himself to blame if she came upon him without clothes on. And surely she could claim ignorance as a defense if she absolutely had to...
If she was quick enough and used the rhododendron bushes as a shield, he wouldn’t even notice her if he did happen to be swimming nearby.
Ignoring the prick of her conscience, Abigail stepped off the gravel path and tiptoed along the grass, following the line of the hedge. The dense green foliage obscured her view of the lake but aside from the quiet lap of water against the nearby bank and the fleeting buzz of a dragonfly by her ear, she could hear nothing else. At the end of the hedge, she stopped. Clutching her bonnet and book against her chest, she took a few more moments to listen for any sound that might indicate the presence of another person, but all was still and silent.
Barely daring to breath, her stomach aswarm with butterflies, Abigail inched around the edge of the clipped bushes. More of the lake came into her line of sight; she could see clear across the glassy surface to the eastern side but there was still no sign of Sir Nicholas. Aside from another dragonfly skimming across the water, nothing stirred, not even a breath of air.
Her heart in her mouth, she leaned forward a little more to peer around the corner to the section of the lake hidden from view...
And there was Sir Nicholas Barsby is all his naked glory.
Oh, dear God. Abigail dropped her bonnet and book as her hands flew to her mouth to smother a gasp—whether it was with shock or pleasure or both she had no idea.
Only a few yards away, thigh deep in the water, Sir Nicholas stood with his back to Abigail. Even though she knew what she did was wrong, her gaze greedily drank in everything about him—his sleek black hair, the droplets of water gleaming on his smooth bare skin, his wide shoulders and well-muscled back tapering to lean hips, the taut cheeks of his buttocks. The tops of his powerful thighs...
At first glance he appeared quite motionless; his head was tipped back, his face raised to the sun while one hand rested low on his hip. And that’s when Abigail noticed his right arm was moving; the corded muscles were flexed and even though his hand was hidden from view it appeared to be at groin level, sliding back-and-forth, back-and-forth, the movement a rapid, rhythmic pulse. It reminded Abigail of the time her former lover, Harry, had shown her how to—
The realization hit her like a bolt from above. Sir Nicholas was pleasuring himself.
Outside. In broad daylight.
Dear Lord, the man was wicked to his very bones. Brazen. Depraved.
And absolutely mesmerizing.
She wondered who he was thinking about. Was it her? And of all the things they could do together...
Leave, Abigail. Go.
But she didn’t. Couldn’t. It seemed she was stricken with some strange fever that rendered her incapable of movement. Arousal shimmered over her skin like a heat haze and her nipples tightened, the sensitive nubs chafing against her cotton shift and suddenly too-tight stays. Liquid heat pooled low in her belly and her folds grew slick. Heavy.
She wanted, she wanted, she wanted...
God, how she wanted.
Without thinking, Abigail slid a hand to the juncture of her thighs and cupped her throbbing mound through the fabric of her skirts. The pace of Sir Nicholas’s pumping grew faster, more frantic, his hips rocked, the muscles of his backside bunched. He was almost there, she could feel it in her own blood as she pressed a finger against her most sensitive spot and rubbed herself through the muslin.
Yes, yes, yes. Sweet fire licked its way along her nerves. Dark desire swept over her, through her, spinning her higher and higher. A moan rose in her
Yes, Sir Nicholas only had himself to blame if she came upon him without clothes on. And surely she could claim ignorance as a defense if she absolutely had to...
If she was quick enough and used the rhododendron bushes as a shield, he wouldn’t even notice her if he did happen to be swimming nearby.
Ignoring the prick of her conscience, Abigail stepped off the gravel path and tiptoed along the grass, following the line of the hedge. The dense green foliage obscured her view of the lake but aside from the quiet lap of water against the nearby bank and the fleeting buzz of a dragonfly by her ear, she could hear nothing else. At the end of the hedge, she stopped. Clutching her bonnet and book against her chest, she took a few more moments to listen for any sound that might indicate the presence of another person, but all was still and silent.
Barely daring to breath, her stomach aswarm with butterflies, Abigail inched around the edge of the clipped bushes. More of the lake came into her line of sight; she could see clear across the glassy surface to the eastern side but there was still no sign of Sir Nicholas. Aside from another dragonfly skimming across the water, nothing stirred, not even a breath of air.
Her heart in her mouth, she leaned forward a little more to peer around the corner to the section of the lake hidden from view...
And there was Sir Nicholas Barsby is all his naked glory.
Oh, dear God. Abigail dropped her bonnet and book as her hands flew to her mouth to smother a gasp—whether it was with shock or pleasure or both she had no idea.
Only a few yards away, thigh deep in the water, Sir Nicholas stood with his back to Abigail. Even though she knew what she did was wrong, her gaze greedily drank in everything about him—his sleek black hair, the droplets of water gleaming on his smooth bare skin, his wide shoulders and well-muscled back tapering to lean hips, the taut cheeks of his buttocks. The tops of his powerful thighs...
At first glance he appeared quite motionless; his head was tipped back, his face raised to the sun while one hand rested low on his hip. And that’s when Abigail noticed his right arm was moving; the corded muscles were flexed and even though his hand was hidden from view it appeared to be at groin level, sliding back-and-forth, back-and-forth, the movement a rapid, rhythmic pulse. It reminded Abigail of the time her former lover, Harry, had shown her how to—
The realization hit her like a bolt from above. Sir Nicholas was pleasuring himself.
Outside. In broad daylight.
Dear Lord, the man was wicked to his very bones. Brazen. Depraved.
And absolutely mesmerizing.
She wondered who he was thinking about. Was it her? And of all the things they could do together...
Leave, Abigail. Go.
But she didn’t. Couldn’t. It seemed she was stricken with some strange fever that rendered her incapable of movement. Arousal shimmered over her skin like a heat haze and her nipples tightened, the sensitive nubs chafing against her cotton shift and suddenly too-tight stays. Liquid heat pooled low in her belly and her folds grew slick. Heavy.
She wanted, she wanted, she wanted...
God, how she wanted.
Without thinking, Abigail slid a hand to the juncture of her thighs and cupped her throbbing mound through the fabric of her skirts. The pace of Sir Nicholas’s pumping grew faster, more frantic, his hips rocked, the muscles of his backside bunched. He was almost there, she could feel it in her own blood as she pressed a finger against her most sensitive spot and rubbed herself through the muslin.
Yes, yes, yes. Sweet fire licked its way along her nerves. Dark desire swept over her, through her, spinning her higher and higher. A moan rose in her
Similar Books
