The Soldier's Scoundrel by Cat Sebastian

Author:Cat Sebastian
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

There wasn’t even time for Oliver to wonder whether he ought to feel self-­conscious about his scars. Without so much as breaking their kiss, Jack’s hands deftly undid buttons and pushed aside fabric until Oliver was quite comprehensively naked. Jack knelt on the bed, staring down at Oliver with a look that was utterly indecent. Whatever the condition of Oliver’s leg, it certainly wasn’t causing Jack any misgivings.

Feeling bold, Oliver reached up to untie Jack’s cravat, only to find his hands mercilessly clamped down on either side of his head once again. “I’m not done looking at you,” Jack growled.

Oliver nearly whimpered. He felt shameless, like he had been waiting his entire life to have his body pressed ruthlessly into the mattress by a self-­confessed reformed criminal in a Yorkshire inn. And maybe he had, because lying here, exposed and willing, he felt more himself than he had in months. “We can both look at one another.” He halfheartedly strained against Jack’s grip.

He was rewarded with another growling sound and a stronger grip on his hands. Jack’s murmurs of desire and approval were nearly enough to bring Oliver off. But he was damned if he was going to let another night pass him by without seeing what was under Jack Turner’s clothes. He had been thinking about it for weeks. Every hint of solid muscle had ramped up his desire.

In one swift movement, Oliver reversed their positions so that Jack was beneath him. He grabbed both Jack’s wrists in one hand and started untying the cravat with his free hand.

“How in hell did you do that?” Jack breathed. “I have two stone on you and you have a lame leg.”

Oliver laughed into the soft skin and rough stubble of Jack’s neck. “I was trained in hand-­to-­hand combat, you know.”

“Right, but I grew up on the streets of St. Giles, which amounts to much the same thing.”

“Then you ought to be able to do better than that,” Oliver said when Jack made an ineffective attempt to wrestle him back over. “If you’re holding out on me because of my leg, I’ll never forgive you.” He was only half kidding.

Oliver wasn’t sure if he slackened his grip or if Jack stopped going easy on him, because an instant later he was flat on his back once again. He couldn’t suppress his sigh of pleasure.

“You like that,” Jack said, almost wonderingly. “That’s what you wanted all along. Hold onto the bedpost.”

“Mmmm,” was all Oliver would say, admitting nothing, but he raised his arms to take hold of the bedpost.

“I’ll remember that for next time.”

Next time. Yes. Oliver watched in fascination as Jack pulled off his cravat and started unfastening his shirt, all the while never letting his dark eyes stray from Oliver. That gaze alone was more than Oliver had ever hoped to find in a bed partner. He looked like he was barely holding back, like he was ready to eat Oliver alive.

Heaven help him, but Oliver wanted that too.

Jack pulled

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