“Looking for me, Aidan?” Her tone was sardonic.
“Believe it or not, I had no idea you would be here.” His deep voice resonated slightly through the empty portrait gallery and his footsteps continued as he walked closer to her. “Or I would not have come.”
She turned to face him, her breath catching in her throat, for he was nearer than she had realized. His mere presence always made her a bit light-headed. She was cursed by it. Aidan was too handsome. His sensual mouth was drawn into a grim line, giving him a menacing appearance. Which, surprisingly, only enhanced his looks. “Please leave,” she stated calmly, although his closeness had unnerved her more than she wanted to admit, even to herself.
He folded his arms across his chest in defiance. Obviously he had no intention of leaving her.
“Forgive me, Miss Montgomery. Am I interrupting a secret little tryst with Jackson Harlow? Or were you waiting for one of your many other admirers, perhaps?” Aidan asked caustically, his contempt for her apparent.
Before she realized what she was doing, she slapped him. A slap that made an impression on his cheek and left her hand stinging.
“I despise you,” she breathed heavily. “You always think the worst of me.”
He glowered, his green eyes like dark fire, as he stepped toward her. For a panicked moment she was not sure if he meant to slap her back or—wild thought—kiss her. She did not know which would hurt more.
“Vivienne, I just—” Aidan broke off and reached for her arms, drawing her roughly against his broad chest. He was shaking and his breath was rapid, as he placed his forehead against hers, beseeching her in some way, wanting something from her.
His stare penetrated her and she looked down. The familiar scent of him—clean, spicy, and distinctly Aidan—saturated her. As she attempted to break away from his grasp, the sound of voices entering the other end of the long gallery caused them both to freeze.
In horrified alarm they stared at each other, aware of their scandalous position. Before she could protest, Aidan placed his hand over her mouth and dragged her through the nearest doorway. It was dark inside. The thin sliver of light that glimmered from beneath the door hardly gave enough to see by, but she gathered they were in a storage closet of sorts. She struggled at Aidan’s handling of her, but he gripped her tighter, not allowing her to move. What was he thinking to force her into a closet with him?
“Shh,” he breathed in her ear as the voices grew nearer.
She stilled.
Just outside the door Glenda’s sharp voice declared, “I know I saw someone come this way and I’m sure I heard voices.”
“Perhaps you were mistaken,” Gregory offered lazily. Their footsteps echoed in the corridor just beyond the door to the closet.
“Where could Vivienne be? I’ve looked everywhere for her,” Glenda whined.
If they found her with Aidan now…
Vivienne’s back pressed against Aidan’s broad chest while he held her in place with one arm tight around her waist and one hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. Her breathing was heavy and panicked as she wondered how long they would have to stay hidden. This was the last place she should be.
Alone in the dark with Aidan Kavanaugh.
The length of his strong, muscled body leaned against hers and the intense heat between them radiated steadily through the many layers of their clothing. His warm breath on the back of her neck sent a shiver to the core of her body, which she desperately tried to ignore. They stood motionless for a few silent minutes, but it felt like ages. Their heartbeats echoed in the darkness as they waited. And waited. Neither Glenda’s nasal tone nor Gregory’s deep laughter could be heard in the gallery any longer. Clearly, it was safe to leave the storage closet now.
Still they did not move.
Aidan’s warm hand continued to cover her mouth. He certainly was not holding her to keep her quiet any longer, for she had not uttered a sound nor moved a muscle.
But he moved. His thumb actually caressed her cheek, tracing a gentle path, back and forth along her cheekbone, while the hand at her waist was stroking the curve of her hip, oh so faintly. He barely touched her, yet she felt his contact throughout her entire being. And shivered.
His lower hand then slowly slid up her waist to the swell of her breast. He breathed in deeply, pulling her tighter against his chest.
It had been so long since Aidan had held her. Years and years. It was so familiar and yet so new. Recalling images of the last time Aidan kissed her, she gently tilted her head back until she relaxed against his chest. On an impulse she could not control, Vivienne flicked her tongue lightly along the inside of the palm of his hand.
His body tensed. His breathing stilled, as if he feared she would stop if he moved. She continued licking his hand, delicately twirling her tongue in intricate patterns against his palm, until he carefully inserted his index finger into her mouth. She took it easily, sucked it softly, nibbling with her teeth, slowly running her tongue down the length of it, circling the tip in lazy swirls. His skin tasted warm and salty. One by one, she did the same to each of the fingers on his hand as he offered them to her.
She felt his heated breath on the nape of her neck and the tender brush of his kisses on her hair, sending shivers down her spine. She pushed her body against the length of him, his thumb still in her mouth.
Suddenly he used both hands to spin her around to face him, although she could barely distinguish his features in the darkness. She gasped as his mouth came down on hers. Fiercely. But she welcomed him with an eagerness that matched his own. They kissed with a desperate hunger, as if all that time had never passed. As if this were their last chance to ever kiss again. It was reckless, crazy. It was heaven.
It was Aidan kissing her. And that was all that mattered.
“Aidan.”
The sound of her voice startled her as she realized she had whispered his name aloud. He murmured something she could not understand, but she did not care as his mouth claimed hers again.
Her heart slammed into her chest as a thrill went through her. Aidan still wanted her after all this time. Aidan was kissing her as if she still belonged to him.
She arched against him as one hand encircled her breast, fully cupping her, squeezing her. Desire coursed through her veins like a living thing. Instinctively she knew where this was leading and she let herself be swept completely into the tide of passion that washed through her. This was going to happen.
She felt a forceful tugging on the bodice of her gown and before she realized it, she was exposed to him. His head lowered to her chest and he had his mouth on her bare breast. The exquisite sensations of his heated tongue sucking on her taut nipple coaxed a soft moan from her lips. His mouth was hot on her skin, burning her. Her hands weaved into his thick black hair and she buried her face in it, inhaling the familiar scent of him.
She was with Aidan again.
It seemed as if he had a hundred hands, for now one hand was sliding up her inner thigh, pulling her skirt up with it, and moving between her legs. He touched her through her undergarments with intent, persistent strokes. She sucked in her breath with a hiss as he slipped his fingers beneath the thin fabric and caressed her intimately. He placed his hand against her throbbing flesh and eased a finger inside of her.
“You’re so ready for me,” he whispered in her ear.
She breathed his name. Yes, she was ready…Her hands clung to the lapels of his jacket for support and she gasped for air. There was more rustling of clothing and her petticoat and crinoline were no longer under her skirt. He was undressing her and she was doing absolutely nothing to stop him. Because she didn’t want him to stop. She didn’t care what they were doing, fool that she was. This was Aidan, and despite her anger, she’d always loved him. This is what she was made for. For him. She wanted this to continue through to the end and savor every minute of it. Oh, Lord, but it had been so long.
Vivienne was all but naked, in nothing but her gartered stockings an
d heeled shoes. How had he done it? Were there classes a man took to learn how to undress a women with such ease? Still he kissed her and she was grateful for the dark.
His shirt and jacket were still on, but his breeches were missing. Again she wondered how Aidan did it so effortlessly. All the while he was still kissing her, devouring her. Her body thrummed in response to the naked feel of him pressed close to her bare skin. That elemental, primal part knew this made her feel like a woman. She knew what was coming and longed for it. Ached for it. Would go mad if she didn’t get it. She wanted him inside of her desperately.
His voice, thick with lust, whispered seductively in her ear, “Tell me what you want, Vivienne.”
Was he mad? How could he not know what she wanted? Had she protested in some way? She was obviously agreeable to the situation, albeit he had dragged her into the closet unwillingly. He had to know how she felt, for she had not resisted him in the slightest.
“Ah…I…ah…I want you,” she managed to murmur.
“And just what do you want me to do?” His voice was wickedly decadent. She gasped as he pressed his hardness against her.
“Th-that…” she panted in short, gasping breaths.
“You mean this?” he asked with false innocence as he thrust himself inside her.
“Yes,” she cried, but before she could even get the word out of her mouth he had withdrawn from her and she almost wept with the loss of it. She arched toward him trying to get him close to her again, but he backed away.
“Tell me first…” He kissed her mouth again, cupping her breast harder.
Her cheeks were burning. “Aidan…”
“Tell me why…” He plunged into her again and pulled out skillfully, leaving her whimpering. “Tell me,” he demanded in silky tones.
“I want you inside of me because you belong there,” she blurted out breathlessly, shamelessly.
He drove into her as a reward, remaining longer this time before he withdrew. “Tell me…”
“I’ll tell you anything, Aidan, just please don’t stop,” she begged. She must have given him a satisfactory answer because he was inside of her again. This time she wrapped her leg around him to hold him to her.
“Oh no,” he laughed low in his throat, “Oh, no, you don’t.” He thrusted deeply once, twice, and then a third time before he withdrew. He was impeccably controlled in his movements, whereas Vivienne was weak and quivering. She would die if he didn’t continue.
“Tell me who else has had you.” His voice was edgy, demanding.
“Aidan!” she cried, her eyes open wide in the darkness. She could feel his gaze piercing her.
“Tell me.” He lunged into her and withdrew once more.
She pressed against him, begging him, “Aidan, please, please.” She was sobbing now. She had to have him. She was going mad.
“Who else?” He was pounding her hard now, thrusts deep and long, in rapid succession. It was what she had wanted. Her body rocked against the wall.
Her words came in sobs on short breaths in rhythm with his thrusts. “No one else, Aidan! There has…never been anyone else. Just you, Aidan. Only you.”
“Ah, Vivienne.” He kissed her face, her hair. “Why, why…?” He leaned his head against hers.
She whispered to him, “It’s always been…you for me. It will only…ever be you. Only you can make me feel this way. It’s you I love.”
He kissed her to silence her sobs, kissed the hot tears on her cheeks, but he kept giving her what she needed and wanted from him, “Yes, love. It’s only me now.”
He was losing that control he had earlier, lost in the feel of her body, and his movements became more forceful, more demanding of her. Their passion intensified. It was about possession and need. Vivienne belonged to him. She always had.
Then she whispered, “Now tell me, Aidan. Why me?”
“Because, muirnin…you’re mine—” Carried away in the emotion, his body’s response grew more frantic.
She was lost then, clinging to him, crying. Tears spilled down her cheeks. But the intense feelings between them only increased in fervor. With one hand braced on the wall behind her, he lifted her and she wrapped her stocking-clad legs around his waist. He drove into her then, giving way completely to their passionate need. She felt herself explode in waves of pleasure and Aidan called out her name. They climaxed together, drowning in a sea of emotional and physical bliss that was unlike anything they had felt in years.
After a few moments, Aidan gathered her in his arms and sank to the floor, resting his back against the wall and cradling her on his lap. He could barely catch his breath, but he tenderly kissed the top of her head. She cried softly, burying her face against his chest.
“Ah, my beautiful Vivienne…What have we done now?” he whispered into her silky hair, stroking her with long, soothing motions.
How had he managed to lose control of himself? He certainly had not planned on seducing her this afternoon, although the thought was in his mind that if he had her once, then he would get her out of his system. Now he had just taken her standing in a closet, while her cousins searched for her outside in the hallway. It had been the most incredible encounter of his life. But, good God, what was he thinking? Why did he come completely undone when he was with her? What power did she hold over him?
Vivienne, his lying, deceitful, lovely Irish witch. She now wept against his chest. She seemed so fragile and lost, not at all the fiery woman who slapped his face or sucked on his fingers or set his blood to boiling only a short while ago. His heart ached at her tears. How was he going to get her dressed and out of there without getting caught together?
“Vivienne, Vivienne…Stop, love. It’s all right.”
“You left me, Aidan. You asked me to marry you and then you left me.” Her tears soaked his shirt. “You didn’t believe in me. In us.”
He froze then, choking out the words, “I saw you with Nicky Foster.”
“No, Aidan.” She shook her head against his chest. “You didn’t see what was really happening. And you never asked me about it. You never spoke to me. You made assumptions and you just left.” Her voice was low and husky from crying.
“What was there to say? I know what I saw, Vivienne,” he whispered tightly, feeling the familiar anger rise within him. “You—half-naked and kissing Nicky Foster.”
He knew why he didn’t believe in her. He’d seen it with his own eyes. Still etched clearly in his memory was the image of Vivienne, her long hair tousled and loose hanging to her waist, and Nicky Foster, a simple farm boy, locked in a passionate embrace. With her dress unbuttoned and her bare breasts showing, they kissed each other passionately. It was quite clear what had been going on between them. His stomach clenched at the mere recollection of the day he caught them together.
“Are you sure about that?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“Yes.”
“Did you believe that I ever loved you, Aidan?”
“I thought so at one time.”
She sighed heavily. “You asked me to be your wife. We were going to be married and go to England together, weren’t we?”
He nodded at her descriptions of the events. He remembered that time most clearly. He loved her with a fervor that left him weak. When he found out he had unexpectedly inherited the earldom of Whitlock and had to return to England, he was desperate to marry Vivienne and bring her with him, in spite of his mother’s opposition to her as his wife. Determined to marry her, Aidan scheduled an earlier date for the wedding. It would not be the grand wedding that he had envisioned for her, but time was not on their side. He needed to claim his earldom, and he wanted to do that with Vivienne at his side, as his countess.
But then…Then she ruined everything. As his mother predicted, Vivienne did not really love him. He’d been completely wrong about her. She only desired him for his money and title. All his dreams with her were destroyed. Completely and utterly destroyed. By her.
“I loved you, Aidan. We were
in love with each other. I wanted to be your wife. What earthly reason would I have had to be with Nicky Foster, of all people, when I had you?”
He was silent for a long moment considering her words. His hands continued to stroke her hair. “What are you saying, Vivienne? That I was wrong? That I didn’t see you with your arms around him with my own eyes?”
“My arms were not around Nicky. They were trying to push him off of me. And I was not kissing him. He was kissing me. Against my will,” she sobbed.
He stiffened at her words. “Am I supposed to believe that?”
“Why wouldn’t you believe me, Aidan? At the time, what did I have to gain by deceiving you?”
“And you had everything to lose by telling me the truth,” he countered quickly.
At her silence he wondered, what did she have to gain by being with Foster? Nothing. Not a bloody thing. That’s why it wounded him so deeply. She threw everything they had away for nothing. Nicky Foster, that brawny, beef-headed, potato farmer. Foster had escorted her to a few dances before Aidan returned from school that summer. And now she wanted him to believe that she wasn’t willingly in Foster’s arms? Dared he believe her words? Could what she said be true? No. He saw it with his own eyes. He saw her kissing Nicky…saw her undressed…smiling, laughing, even…
“You certainly didn’t look as if you needed to be rescued from him, Vivienne.”
“I was explaining to him that I loved you, not him.”
“And he just happened to know you were at our cottage and he picked that exact moment to declare his love for you? And with your dress open to your waist?”
“I was waiting for you. I honestly don’t know why he was there or how he knew I would be at the cottage. I guess he just followed me.”
Good God! Did she think him an idiot? He didn’t want to hear anymore. He had put all of this behind him years ago and felt no need to revisit it now. He buried that part of his life, yet it seemed she had just unearthed it all again. Just how had he ended up in this dark, little closet in the portrait gallery with Vivienne this afternoon mystified him. If she was found there with him, she would be ruined. Hell, he would be ruined.
One Sinful Night Page 10
