Seduced By His Touch

by Tracy Anne Warren

  “And when I decide to leave? When I no longer want to be your wife or your lover, what then?”

  His hand stilled. “You’ll be free to go, exactly as promised.”

  “So this…arrangement will really just involve sex?” she challenged.

  A small silence fell. “That’s right. Just sex.”

  She swallowed and glanced away.

  Should I do it? She wondered.

  More to the point, could she do it? Could she be his paramour and nothing else? If she agreed, she had no doubt he would bring her exquisite pleasure. He was a superb lover—a powerful, virile man with a strong sexual appetite. She would have no cause for complaint in his bed. But if she said yes, would she merely be giving in to his will? Allowing him to find yet another means of controlling and using her?

  On the other hand, if this was strictly about sex, then maybe she would be gaining as much as she gave. Maybe she would be using him, taking advantage of him for her own physical gratification. As he said, they were married, so why not indulge? Why not get something out of this cold-blooded union other than an empty bed and an endless string of lonely nights?

  But what about her feelings?

  What feelings? She scolded herself, brutally casting aside the question. The instant she’d read those settlement papers, her love for him had died.

  In fact, she was ashamed now to think of how she’d felt then, to know what a gullible, innocent simpleton she’d been to fall so easily for his blandishments and his lies.

  Well, she wasn’t innocent anymore. Her eyes were fully open now, and she saw him for precisely what he was. A gorgeous, charming, heartless rake, who liked to play cards and pleasure women.

  Should I let him pleasure me?

  “So?” he drawled. “What do you say?”

  Slowly, she met his gaze, wavering on the thin edge of indecision. Then, before she gave herself too much time to think, she plunged ahead. “Yes,” she said, casting herself into passion’s abyss.

  He grinned, his smile wide and wicked.

  “This changes nothing, though,” she stated in a deliberate voice. “I want there to be no misunderstanding about the fact that I still hate you.”

  His grin fell away, his eyes turning hard. “Hate me all you want, but don’t ever try to deny that you love doing this with me.”

  In a devastating move, he stroked his hand over her naked bottom, then slid a pair of fingers deep into her aching core. Her spine arched, instant bliss flooding her system.

  Cupping the back of her head, he drew her down for a torrid kiss, ravishing her mouth without mercy as he drove her passion high. Her breath came in panting little gasps, her body shuddering as he pushed her relentlessly closer to her peak. She waited, needing the release she knew he could give her, hungry for the oblivion only he could provide.

  And suddenly she was flying, shattering into a million tiny pieces as rapture spread through her in a hot molten flow. She moaned and shook, pleasured beyond any coherent form of expression.

  She’d barely begun to recover when he started again, driving her up in a way that was just short of agony. Biting her lip, she fought to retain some faint sense of control, struggled not to lose herself completely beneath the mastery of his touch.

  He scattered a line of kisses across her cheek, then paused to catch her earlobe between his teeth. “Tell me, Grace.”

  “What?” she panted, half-dazed.

  “Tell me how much you love this,” he demanded, as he continued pleasuring her with unrelenting intensity. “Admit that you adore every wild, wanton thing I make you feel. That you couldn’t bear it if I stopped.”

  And he was right, she did love it. And she would be devastated if he stopped. But he had to know that already, since her body was quite literally weeping from the ecstasy he’d given her, and was giving her still. Yet pride demanded she not say the words, no matter how true they might be. Clamping her lips shut, she closed her eyes.

  “No answer, hmm?” he said. “Let’s see just how long that lasts.”

  Suddenly and without warning, he withdrew his fingers.

  For a terrible moment, she feared he really was going to stop. Instead, he rolled her over on her back and shoved her nightgown to her waist. Sliding his palms under her buttocks, he spread her legs open and settled his broad shoulders in between.

  Quivering with relief, she waited in eager anticipation for him to take her.

  Instead, he bent low, sliding down her body so that his head was positioned between her thighs. And then, he kissed her where she’d never imagined she could be kissed.

  Her hips arched off the mattress, as though she’d been struck by a bolt of lightning. Acting on instinct, she tried to shift away, but his powerful hands held her in place, forcing her to accept his shocking, astonishing embrace.

  Reaching down, she tried to push him aside, her entire body suffused with heat and mortification. But he wouldn’t let her go, instead opening her wider as she squirmed against him. Only then did she realize that he’d positioned her for maximum access, leaving her helpless to resist whatever it was he had planned.

  Her heart hammered in violent beats as he licked her, sweeping his tongue over her swollen flesh in a way that made her writhe. She shuddered and moaned, unable to keep herself from responding. Then he began to suckle too, pausing to kiss and lave her in between, employing a merciless rhythm that made her burn hotter than she’d ever burned before.

  Held in complete thrall, she surrendered abruptly, her need too profound to deny. Instead of resisting, she began to urge him on, no longer the least bit interested in having him stop.

  Flinging her arms over her head, she gripped the headboard. The wood creaked beneath her grasp, moans coming from her throat that she was helpless to control.

  With each caress, he brought her higher. With every new sensation, he forced her closer to the edge. Yet every time she thought she was on the brink, sure that the very next touch would be one that sent her toppling over, he would let her slide back, easing off just enough to deny her. Then he would begin again, tormenting her until she feared she was close to madness.

  And that’s when she realized what he was doing.

  That’s when she knew he was going to make her beg.

  She whimpered as he forced another helpless moan from her lips.

  Moments later, he paused and raised his head, meeting her gaze across her recumbent form. “Did you say something?”

  “N-no,” she whispered, shuddering at the cessation of his caresses.

  “Oh. My mistake. Shall I continue?”

  Continue tormenting her, he meant. Still, how could she say no?

  “Please, Jack.”

  “Please what?”

  Despite their intimacy, she felt her cheeks flush. “Y-you know.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.”

  She blushed more and groaned. “Don’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “T-torment me.”

  “Is that what I’m doing? I thought I was pleasuring you.”

  “You are, but you’re not letting me—”

  “Letting you what?” he drawled in a devil’s voice.

  “God, I don’t know how much more I can take.”

  His eyes darkened. “Oh, you can take more. A lot more. Then again, just say the words and I’ll give you what you want. Tell me how much you need this from me. Tell me how much you love this from me.”

  Still, even aching and desperate as she was, the words didn’t want to come.

  His jaw tightened. “Perhaps you need a bit more incentive.”

  Before she could react, he leaned down and located a particularly delicate bit of flesh with his tongue. Drawing it farther into his mouth, he suckled intently. She shuddered, bucking in his hold, only seconds away from completion.

  Then, as suddenly as he’d begun, he drew away.

  “Aaaaagh,” she cried. “God, don’t stop.”

&nb
sp; “Why not? Is it because you like it?”

  “Y-yes,” she whimpered.

  “Is it because you love it?”

  “Y-yes,” she admitted, her voice and willpower breaking beneath the strain. “Yes, I love it. I absolutely adore it. Now, I swear to God if you don’t tup me, Jack Byron, I’m going to do something diabolical to you.”

  “Diabolical, hmm?” he said with a devilish grin. “Maybe I’ll let you try that later. For now, I believe you have a reward coming. Or should I say, you’ll get your reward by coming.”

  Diving low again, he used his mouth to send her senses whirling like a maelstrom. Her blood beat hot and fierce, passion crashing through her in wild, heady draughts that made her half mad with longing.

  She started to worry that he was toying with her again, when suddenly he did something with his teeth and tongue that was so utterly shattering her mind went completely blank for a brief while. Rapture exploded inside her, bliss pouring into every nerve ending and sinew in her body. Moaning loudly, she shook violently within his grasp. Then she plummeted back to earth, lying limp and breathless as she floated on a sea of pure delight.

  Jack didn’t give her long to recover. Rising up on his knees, he pulled her closer.

  “My turn now,” he murmured in a velvety rasp.

  Hooking her legs high around his waist, he took a moment to position her before thrusting inside her in one long, deep stroke. A harsh gasp sighed from her mouth, as his powerful penetration filled her completely, his shaft stretching her nearly to her limits.

  But her body didn’t seem to mind, responding with an instant, yearning surge of hunger that surprised her with its strength. As improbable as it seemed, she wanted him again.

  Desperately.

  Dark need claimed her as he began to thrust, his powerful rhythm setting up an almost frantic ache inside her. Reaching up, she caught his head in her hands and pulled him down for a wet, rapacious kiss. The move pushed him deeper, making both of them groan with delight.

  He seemed to go a little wild then, clutching her hips more firmly to take her with fast, deep, unbridled strokes. She held on, held him, taking his mouth with more fervid, open-mouthed kisses, whose frenzy he seemed quite happy to match.

  This time, when she screamed out her release, the sound was muffled against his lips, her body trembling still as he poured himself inside her less than a minute later.

  Together, they sank backward, the mattress bouncing a little as they settled into a tangle of warm, damp flesh and utter satisfaction. For long minutes, she couldn’t speak, content to do nothing but drift, too peaceful to move even so much as an inch.

  At length, he raised his head and met her gaze. Bending close, he gave her a kiss that was soft, slow and sweet.

  Before she could decide how to respond, he eased away, a wave of cool air rushing in to take his place. Shivering, she reached for the covers, only then realizing that her nightgown was bunched up around her breasts.

  Pushing the material down over her hips and legs, she sat up. As she did, she cast a glance over her shoulder and saw him lying on his back, asleep.

  Dismissed already and so quickly too. Then again, perhaps she was being too harsh and he was merely tired.

  Either way, though, a new chill burrowed into her bones.

  Turning her back on him, she curled into a ball on her side and pulled the covers high. Nearly an hour passed before she finally found her own rest.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 20

  For Grace, the next three weeks passed by with an odd sense of duality.

  Much as they had during their first week of residence at the honeymoon cottage, she and Jack shared formal meals in the dining room. Their conversation improved in frequency, but it remained confined to innocuous small talk and a range of impersonal topics that never seemed to delve much below the surface.

  During the day, the two of them separated to engage in a variety of solitary pastimes—Jack often riding out on a swift-footed roan gelding he’d received as a wedding gift from Edward, while she painted, read, or sewed. Occasionally, they shared a long walk around the grounds or drove into the nearby village to do a bit of sightseeing and visit the shops. But the weather was frequently dreary and cold, encouraging them to spend a great deal of their time tucked warm and snug inside.

  Otherwise when they weren’t sleeping, they had sex—and lots of it.

  After that first coupling, they’d wiled away the next day separately. But when bedtime arrived, so did Jack, yanking off the nightgown her maid had just helped her into before tumbling her down onto the mattress. Near dawn, he awakened her again for another energetic bout that left her exhausted and sleeping until almost noon.

  And thus began a pattern of sorts, since she could count on him to take her each morning and at least once every night.

  He wasn’t always content with just those encounters, however, surprising her at unusual times to sweep her off her feet and into bed.

  And then there were the occasions when he didn’t even bother with a bed, instead finding inventive ways to try out various pieces of furniture around the house.

  He took her in a chair in the study one afternoon, and another time on the chaise. Once he came upon her in the main room and bent her over the sofa, tossing her skirts up around her shoulders so that he could thrust himself into her from behind.

  But the occasion that remained most vivid in her memory was the morning after breakfast when he locked the door and laid her atop the dining table. There, among the uncleared pots of tea and jam, he proceeded to enjoy a “second repast,” as he dubbed it. Stripping her bare, he’d anointed her skin with dollops of honey and preserves before eating them off her quivering flesh with agonizing slowness. In the end, he’d left her lax and glowing, her body sticky but thoroughly satisfied.

  No matter how often he came to her though, she never denied him. Nor did she wish to, thrilling to his every kiss and caress, grateful that he never left her anything but completely fulfilled.

  Still, she never sought him out of her own volition, nor initiated any of their couplings, even though she had no doubt he would have welcomed her advances. And although she gave him free access to her body, she refused to let him back into her heart, closing off that part of herself with an implacable firmness.

  But their honeymoon was nearly done now, and her maid was busy packing the last of her belongings for the journey home to London.

  Dressed this morning in a soft, dark blue woollen traveling gown, Grace stood at the bedchamber window and gazed out at fields turned white from an overnight dusting of snow.

  Not far in the distance, a small flock of brown sparrows had landed and were hopping to and fro in search of hidden seed. With only partial attention, she noted their efforts, until some noise startled them and off they flew in a rush.

  “That’s the rest of it, milady,” her maid announced as she closed the fastenings on Grace’s valise. “Will there be anything else yer needing?”

  Needing? Yes, a great many things, Grace thought, but nothing this girl could possibly provide.

  “No, thank you,” Grace said with a quick glance. “Carry that below, please, and I shall be down in a minute.”

  Bobbing a curtsey, the servant gathered the case and left.

  Not long after, Grace heard a set of footfalls in the hallway and thought perhaps her maid had returned.

  Instead, a glance showed her that it was Jack who stood in the doorway, looking tall and resplendent in his dark, many-caped greatcoat. Moving with the lean stride of a cat, he walked into the room, his booted feet making barely a sound on the wooden floors. “I came to see if you’re set to leave?” he stated. “The coach is in the drive with the horses standing at the ready.”

  She took a few last moments to gaze out the window before turning around. Crossing to the dresser, she picked up her gloves and drew them on. “We can depart whenever you choose. Just let me don my pelisse and we’ll go.”

 
He waited quietly while she retrieved the garment. Before she could put it on, though, he stepped close and took it from her.

  “Allow me,” he said, holding up the long, emerald green wrap.

  After the faintest hesitation, she let him assist her into the pelisse. When he was done, he turned her around to face him, his fingers moving to fasten the buttons.

  “I can do it,” she said, trying to brush his hands aside.

  But he refused to let her, working the second button through its corresponding buttonhole before she gave up trying to prevent him from doing so.

  “You look beautiful this morning,” he said. “These colours become you. They make your cheeks glow.”

  Once she would have melted to hear him say such things. Now, they only turned her cold.

  “Must you do that?” she said before she could stop herself.

  One mahogany brow winged upward. “Do what?”

  She paused before continuing. “That. Attempt to flatter me. I’d rather you didn’t. If you want something, you have only to ask.”

  His brows creased into a scowl. “I don’t want anything at the moment. I was merely making an observation.”

  “Well, you needn’t bother. As I’ve told you before, I have no use for false praise and am quite familiar with my own shortcomings. Pray don’t feel that you need to cajole me.”

  “I am not cajoling you. And I resent the implication that I’m trying to manipulate you for some nefarious purpose.” His face turned stiff, his eyes flashing a bright, infuriated blue. “And if I say you’re beautiful, then by God, that’s exactly what you are.”

  She locked gazes with him for a long moment before looking away. A sharp quiet fell between them.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” he said.

  “Whether I do or not, I scarcely see how that matters. Now, we should be going.” Edging around him, she moved toward the door.

  He moved faster and shut it before she could pass through, then leaned back against the painted wood. “I thought we’d ceased hostilities on this subject and that you understood I never deceived you—”

  Her eyes narrowed.