"Here," she whispered and deftly unfastened the front closure of her bra, releasing her breasts to his plundering mouth. He lavished attention on each one in turn, taking one, then the other. He pulled, suckled, and teased until she thought she couldn't endure the exquisite pleasure another moment. Her hands grasped the shirt stretched taut across his back and her head fell forward.
Abruptly, he drew back and claimed her lips with his, hungry and demanding. She clung to him, her legs liquid, no longer able to provide support. He pulled her closer and she gasped at the sensation of his bare chest against her naked, sensitive breasts. His manhood beckoned through the fabric separating them. She strained her hips forward to meet his. Lost in a fog of sensual anticipation, she existed only in the touch of his hands, the taste of his skin, the heat of his body pressed to hers.
Together they sank to their knees, mouths still engaged in a frenzy of taste and touch. Her arms wrapped around his neck. His hands traveled across her hips and stomach, finding the juncture of her thighs. She groaned at the pressure of his touch through the denim of her jeans and moved rhythmically against his hand. He stopped and she shuddered, grasping him convulsively. He found the waistband of her jeans and struggled with the button, finally ripping it off in a haze of unrelenting desire. Impatiently, he pushed the zipper open and slid the pants down her hips.
His hand circled the tender flesh of her stomach and trailed to the curls between her thighs. He explored the soft, moist folds of skin beyond and found the point of her passion. His fingers toyed and played until she nearly wept from wanting him.
“Oh, Adam, now, please," she cried, frantically clutching him closer.
He eased her back on the plush carpet and stood, tearing off his clothes. She wiggled out of her jeans and waited impatiently. He towered above her and for a moment she thought how very much she loved him. Then he was there, filling her with the essence of his being.
"Maggie," he said with a groan. Her warm, moist body enveloped him, and Adam thought he had never known such intensity, such pleasure, such perfection. The fire, the fury, and the passion of this woman were his and he wanted nothing more than to take her to heights he had never suspected possible. Until now.
She wrapped her legs around his and strained against his thrusting strength. They moved in the rhythm of the ages, faster and higher to a place she never dreamed existed, never imagined could be reached. Together they climbed where surely no one had been before until ultimately he shuddered convulsively against her and she screamed softly as the world exploded around them.
***
Adam propped himself on one elbow. His gaze drifted lazily over the naked woman beside him. A smile played across his lips and he drank in the sight of her. Disheveled hair framed her flushed face, her lips parting slightly as she breathed. Her eyes were closed and long dark lashes delicately brushed her cheek.
When had he lost control of his life? Was it when Maggie had tried to strike him? When Lydia openly defied him? Or was it much sooner? The night he found Maggie crumpled at his feet perhaps? Somehow the answers no longer interested him. The only thing that interested him at all was her.
The intensity of their lovemaking shocked him. He never knew it could be quite so remarkable, quite so consuming. She unleashed passions in him he never dreamed existed. And now, lying here, studying her, tenderness and peace filled him. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her close, always. He wanted to protect her, care for her. Before today, he thought she merely suited him. But it was far more than that. With her he was complete. Fulfilled. Whole.
He had asked himself once before if this was love.
Now he knew.
Desire rose once again within him. He trailed his fingers lightly down the valley between her breasts and traced a circle on her stomach. Her eyes fluttered open and she gave him a contented smile. Pleased, he noted her eyes were still a deep, forest green.
"Do you really think I have the manners and mouth of a guttersnipe?"
He reached over and brushed his lips against hers. "You have a lovely mouth." His lips moved to her ear. "And wonderful ears." His mouth traveled to her neck. “And a truly superb throat."
His tongue drifted lower and delight shivered through her. "You realize we're lying here on the rug stark naked?" She struggled to keep her thoughts together. He shifted to a position over her, his tongue now teasing her breasts.
‘'I had noticed that," he murmured and continued his exploration.
"What about the servants?" Breathing grew difficult.
His mouth caressed her stomach, his tongue tracing intricate patterns. "They won't come in if the door is closed." His words fluttered against her bare body.
"But what . . . ?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Don't you ever stop talking?" He growled out the words softly, his mouth still nuzzling her belly. She willingly gave up and lost herself to the exquisite sensations he created.
He lifted his head and gazed up at her. "You do realize this changes everything?"
She sighed in agreement and he returned to the task at hand.
His hands gently caressed her inner thighs and her legs fell open. His fingers stroked the quivering folds of flesh and she moaned with the sheer enjoyment of his knowledgeable touch. A throbbing built deep within her and she wondered vaguely if he could feel it, too.
His tongue flicked the focal point of her pleasure and she gasped at the amazing sensation. She tensed at the new intimacy. A glimmer of apprehension tore her mind from the remarkable feeling.
“Adam." She gasped out the words cautiously. "I don't know . . ."
"Hush, my love."
She surrendered completely. All possibility of coherent thought fled and she spiraled in a whirlpool of erotic indulgence. She writhed uncontrollably, her nails digging into the carpet beneath her, desperate to escape the sweet, sinful torture. More desperate not to.
Flashes of blinding, hot pleasure surged into every crevice of her being until she wept with desire and whimpered for release. Adam's hands, lips, tongue explored every surface of her body, and every nerve screamed with the flaring heat.
Over and over he brought her to the brink of mindless ecstasy. Over and over he held her back. She grasped his shoulders. Primordial pressure built deeper, higher, and she moaned in mindless wonder.
Sensing her complete arousal, Adam could no longer contain his own rampaging need. His throbbing, pulsating manhood bored into the hot, wet oblivion of her. He groaned, submersed in the sensation of their joining and swept away once again on a timeless wave of passion.
She wrapped her legs around his hips and instinctively matched her movements to his, countered his thrusts with hers, molded her body to his own. She arched her back, frantic for every contact, every movement a new pinnacle of excitement. His lips crushed hers and their hard, rasping breaths crashed and collided. She demanded and devoured. He filled her insistent body with a fierce intensity he never dreamed existed.
Together they soared to unbelievable heights where their very souls joined. Bonded. Merged into one. Where they crossed the border that separated one life from another. Where neither knew where one left off and the other began. Until finally, forged by flames of passion and fired by blazing desire, an inferno of ecstasy erupted within them. Their bodies shuddered and shook and they clung desperately to each other.
And Maggie knew no matter what else might happen, this was meant to be. Fated as surely as night follows day. As certain as the seasons.
As inevitable as time itself.
***
Maggie lay on her side, Adam's body molded around hers. She marveled at the way they seemed to fit together so perfectly, as if one body was made with the other in mind. She sighed in lethargic contentment and snuggled deeper into his arms. A kiss tickled her ear.
"I could stay like this always," Adam said.
Twisting, she turned to face him and snaked her arms around his neck. "Really?" She brushed her lips across his. "I w
as under the distinct impression I drove you crazy."
"You do." His eyes twinkled. "But I find I am beginning to enjoy the ride."
She laughed with delight and her gaze locked with his. Almost imperceptibly, his eyes sobered.
"Maggie." He pronounced her name slowly as if choosing his words carefully. "Tell me about him. About the man you loved."
"What man?" She stared, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"
“The man who took . . . the man you gave—damnation. I don't know how to ask this." In his eyes she read frustration and something she couldn't quite define.
Realization struck her and she wasn't sure if she should be amused or annoyed. Embarrassment mingled with concern on the face of the normally unflappable Earl of Ridgewood and warned her to take his question seriously. The tender way he held her took the edge off any conclusions he might make about her character.
“Coleridge," she began gently, "are you saying you noticed I'm not a virgin?"
He nodded silently.
She studied his face for a moment. "Does it matter?"
Maggie held her breath, surprised to find his answer would matter quite a bit. Her gaze probed his and the pause before he spoke seemed to last a lifetime.
"No." He answered with the firmness of a man who had come to a decision and found it correct. ‘'I understand the standards of your time are different from the standards of mine. And I accept that." The look in his eyes softened and his voice was gentle. "It is jealousy, I fear. I find myself in a rage that any other man has known you like this."
She stared and thought surely he could see her love for him shining in her eyes. "Adam," she whispered, "no one has ever been with me like this before."
Propping herself up on one elbow, Maggie locked her gaze with his. She studied him a moment, then plunged ahead. "I’ve slept with two other men. One in college, one a couple of years ago. Both times I thought I was in love." She shrugged awkwardly. "Both times I was wrong. In my day, it's very unusual for a woman of my age to be a virgin. In fact," she said wryly, "it's unusual for any adult woman to be a virgin."
"And men do not mind?"
"I don't think so." She reflected for a moment, then grinned. "If they did, I think they could easily prevent the problem. Don't you?" She gazed at him innocently. He laughed aloud at her expression and tried to pull her close.
"Your turn."
"As you wish." He sighed solemnly. “I am not a virgin, either."
“Adam!" She laughed and swatted playfully at him.
"Knock it off, I'm being serious." He plastered a somber expression on his face but the twinkle in his eye gave him away. She pretended not to notice. “Lydia told me you almost got married once. What happened?"
Adam shrugged, his demeanor now serious. Had she struck a nerve? Maybe this was a question better off not asked.
"In my youth, I was not quite as . . ." He hesitated as if searching for a word.
"Stuffy?" she said, smiling impishly.
He gave her a quelling glare. "I would prefer self-controlled. At any rate, I gave my affections quite freely—"
"So I've heard," she said wryly.
He ignored the interruption. “There was a young woman whose family took my flirtations far more seriously than intended. I never thought she did, although sometimes I wonder. . . . " He paused as if remembering. "I do not think I singled her out particularly. I was no more attentive to her than to anyone else. Nonetheless, there was speculation that we would wed, gossip I paid no heed to."
Maggie gazed at him curiously. “So what happened?"
A shadow crossed Adam's eyes. "My father died. I needed time to myself. To sort out my life. Afterward I learned she, too, had died. A carriage accident, I believe."
He shrugged matter-of-factly. "I was sorry, of course. But I had no serious feelings or intentions toward her. I don't believe she had any toward me. Our marrying was a mere figment of gossip and rumor."
Maggie reached out to lightly trace the line of his jaw with her fingers. “I'm glad you aren't married now."
He caught her hand and drew it to his lips. Adam gazed into her eyes and whispered against her palm, "So am I, Maggie, so am I."
The clock in the hall sounded the hour.
"Bloody hell!" Adam leapt to his feet. He reached his hand down, grasped hers, and pulled her up to join him.
"What is it?" she said breathlessly.
"Six o'clock.” He found her jeans and shirt and tossed them to her. He muttered and pulled his own clothes on. "Six o'clock. Servants will be throughout the house within minutes if they aren't already. Here we are, stark naked." He stopped his tirade abruptly and glared at her.
She stood where he had pulled her to her feet, making no attempt to dress and grinning at his panicked expression.
“I thought you said the servants wouldn't come in here if the door was closed."
It was his turn to grin. "I lied."
She realized the implication of his words and her mouth dropped open. Then she, too, frantically dressed, wiggling into her jeans. "Damn," she muttered. "My button is missing."
"I must apologize for that," he said formally, then seemed to take notice of just how ridiculous such formality was, given the circumstances.
It resembled a scene from a bad sitcom. Adam wore a shirt but his pants were little more than halfway on. Maggie had pulled her jeans up but the waist gaped where the button was missing and she had no shirt on at all. The absurdity of the situation struck them both at the same time. Adam's deep, rich tones matched the laughter bubbling through Maggie's lips. Within moments, they were once again in each other's arms, finding refuge from their uncontrollable mirth.
Adam kissed the tears of laughter from her cheeks and spoke with regret. "I wish we could stay here together all day. But we should both get some rest and I do have business to attend to today."
“I know." She sighed, pulled away from him, and pulled her shirt over her head. "Besides, I have a date this afternoon."
"A date?" A perplexed expression crossed his handsome face.
"Yeah, a date," she said lightly, looking under furniture for the mate to the tennis shoe in her hand. “You know. An appointment, an engagement."
"What kind of engagement?"
“A ride in the park." Intent on her search, Maggie paid no attention to the steely tone in Adam's voice. Her muffled voice came from a direction about halfway under the sofa. “With Edward Lindley. Here, gotcha." Triumphantly holding the errant shoe high, she stopped short at Adam's cold, hard expression.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Concerned, her gaze searched his face.
"You will not drive in the park with Lindley today or any other day."
“What?" Amazement rang in her voice. "Why on earth not?"
Adam stared at her, a dozen reasons running through his mind. Because I love you. Because I want to marry you. Because the thought of another man anywhere near you drives me insane. But he had not yet declared himself and hesitated to do so now. She reacted to him with unbridled passion, but was it love on her part? Adam Coleridge had little to fear from any man, but the answer to that question from this slip of a woman tightened a vise of apprehension around his heart.
"Because." His tones were hardened steel, what Maggie called his lord—of-the-manor voice. "I said you will not, that's why."
Astonished, Maggie stared. Was this the same funny, loving man she'd been with all morning? Indignation swept aside her tender feelings.
"That’s a load of bull, Coleridge." She threw her shoulders back and looked him directly in the eyes, her gaze as icy as she could make it. "We've gone over this before. Read my lips."
She ticked off the points on her fingers. "One, I am not a woman of your time and I refuse to be treated like one. Two, I am not a possession, not an object. Three, I do not belong to you or any man and I do not need to be taken care of. Four, I am not your responsibility and five and six and seven and eight—I do not take orders from you. I'll see a
nyone I damn well please!"
Her glare tangled with his, and her eyes flared a challenge he'd be hard-pressed to miss. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't go on an innocent little carriage ride.”
Say something. Tell me this meant more to you than a one-night stand. Tell me you care about me. I love you. Say something to make me stay.
"I . . . am . . . ordering you . . . not to go."
Her heart plummeted. If he had only asked instead of ordered. If he cared about her even a little, he would have taken her feelings into consideration. Wouldn't he? He knew full well she wouldn't respond to his ridiculous order. It was obvious that any illusions she harbored about what she meant to him were just that. Illusions. Illusions fostered when he seemed to meld with her inner being, touch her very soul. Illusions she now knew were as evasive as gossamer and just as unsubstantial.
"Wrong answer, pal." She snatched up her cloak and, shoes in her hand, marched to the door. She managed to fling it open and glanced back at him.
He loomed in the center of the room, fists clenched by his sides. A muscle in his tightly clamped jaw twitched, and fury smoldered in his dark, bottomless eyes. He'd never looked so angry or so magnificent. A golden god of war.
Her throat ached unbearably. If she didn't get out of there now she'd run back into his arms, willing to give up her principles and her pride to be with him. She marshaled every ounce of self-control she possessed to resist the temptation, but surrendered to the impulse to let him know exactly what he'd thrown away.
"I told you every other time I've slept with someone, I thought I was in love. I thought so this time, too. Obviously I was wrong. Again."
She swept out of the room without a backward glance.
Adam stared at the closed door and tried to digest her parting shot. I thought so this time, too. The words echoed in his mind. I thought I was in love.
She thought she was in love? With him? She loved him?
She loved him.
Yesterday and Forever Page 17
