by Shana Galen
“Very well,” she said and moved to face him. If he’d been glorious from behind, he was even more so straight on. His member jutted proudly, looking as hard and unyielding as the firm flesh of his chest. His legs were planted on the floor as though he were a pirate balancing on a tossing ship. The muscles of his legs were defined and straining as he held himself in check. “Undress me,” she said.
He moved quicker than she’d expected to take her waist in his hands. She thought he might rip the chemise, but he merely gathered the material in his hands and allowed it to inch up her calves. Then as the fabric in his fists grew, she felt the sun on her knees and her thighs and then cool air on her buttocks. When he’d bared her to the waist, he used both hands to yank the garment over her head. Her flesh prickled with cold and anticipation as he stepped back slightly to take her in.
“I don’t know where to begin,” he said, voice husky. “I want to taste every inch of you.” Her nipples hardened almost painfully, and his smile widened. “You want me to start there.” He reached out and took one nipple between thumb and forefinger. Heat pulsed between her legs as he rubbed the distended tip, causing a delicious friction. She arched her back, offering herself to him, but he didn’t ravish her as she’d half wanted. Instead, he cupped her breast, his palm brushing that aching nipple. She shifted as the ache between her thighs intensified to match the yearning he stoked in her.
“What are you hungry for?” he asked. “I could look at you all day. I could spend hours learning every single curve and dip and swell and”—his fingers manipulated her tender nipple again, making her gasp with pleasure—“and tip. Is that what you want? Do you want me to tease you until you gasp so that you think you can’t breathe, until you beg me to thrust inside you, until you are forced to touch yourself with your slim, long fingers because to refrain would be sheer torment?”
She knew her cheeks flushed at his words, but she also knew he could do every single thing he’d promised. Already the tension between her legs made her squirm and imagine wanton acts.
“Don’t tease me,” she whispered. “Not this time.”
His violet eyes went dark to almost purple. “Shall I take you hard and fast now, only to lay you out afterward in that stream of sunlight and stroke you until you want me inside you again?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Hard and fast.”
The hand on her breast slid to her hip and then across her abdomen. She shivered as he brushed over her curls and parted her legs. “You’re already wet.”
“I want you.”
His eyes met hers again. There were questions in his eyes, but he seemed to know now was not the time to ask them. They would come later when they were both sated and drifting in a haze of pleasure. “Bend over.”
Even as a thrill of desire shot through her, disappointment curled around her heart. It was better this way, she told herself. Better that they don’t allow their eyes to meet, that he didn’t look into her soul to see just how very much she cared for him. Better that she didn’t look into his and see the regret that he could not feel the same for her. He could give her pleasure, but he couldn’t give her his heart.
He already had her heart, and she would take the pleasure. Slowly, she turned, her thighs brushing against the bed. Then she bent, lowering herself until her breasts brushed the coarse fabric of the coverlet.
“Spread your legs.” His voice sounded choked, and though she felt incredibly exposed as she was, she spread her legs, opening for him. He didn’t move, but she could feel the heat of him behind her. And then the hair of his legs brushed the back of her thighs and she felt his heavy member brush against her sex. He didn’t enter her. Instead, he stroked her bottom with his hands, mirroring her actions earlier. Gradually he slid his fingers between her legs, brushing against her hot flesh. He guided his hard shaft into her so very slowly that she could feel her body straining to take him in. Then his hands were on her hips, pulling her back until he had sheathed himself completely, filling her to the point of delirium.
“Yes.” She rocked back, taking even more of him, and he growled his approval. They stood still for a long moment, and she could feel him pulse inside her, then his hands moved to explore her breasts and down to her belly and then to the slit of her womanhood. He parted her, revealing her thrumming bud, and he began to circle it.
She made an unintelligible sound as pleasure began to curl through her in little spirals. And as the pleasure built, she rocked back against him. He didn’t move, didn’t take his own pleasure, just gave to her. She moved faster, sliding up and down his length as her climax approached, and he encouraged her. “Use me. Like that. Christ, Collette. Yes.”
And then everything tightened and went white hot, her body seemed to implode on itself. And just as she was about to shatter, he pushed her onto the bed and drove into her. The feeling was indescribable. She rode the waves of her climax as he pounded into her, bringing her higher and higher until she was whimpering and crying and yet begging for more. Her body seemed to spark, and she could have sworn she saw fireworks as he drove into her a last time. And then as the last ounce of pleasure slowly drained away, he drew out and moaned.
Seventeen
Rafe tossed the used towel to the floor and braced a hand on the bed beside Collette’s hip. Her white skin bore the red imprint of his hand, where he’d held her hips in an effort to keep his need under control.
She was still bent over the bed, her body open to him. He could see the pink, swollen flesh between her legs, and he felt his cock twitch. Her head was turned on the bed and she looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes glassy with pleasure. She seemed to read his mind and lifted her hips again in what was probably an unconscious invitation, but he knew what he wanted next and it was not another quick rogering.
He pulled her up and turned her in his arms, cupping the back of her neck with his hand and kissing her gently. She seemed surprised at the gesture, but she wrapped her arms around him and responded sweetly. Too sweetly. It was impossible for him not to know how she felt. She’d said it with words, but did she know that she said it with her body every time he touched her? Her lips said it now, and her hands as they twined in his hair.
When they parted, he took the other towel and handed it to her. He climbed on the bed, moving to the far side and leaving the side nearest the window for her. When she’d done her ablutions, she crawled beside him. He pulled her into his arms and held her, not speaking, just knowing this would be the last time he would ever hold her like this.
After a little while, her breathing slowed and her body went limp. She dozed, but Rafe watched the sliver of light on the coverlet widen and grow longer until it slid over their legs, then up to their entwined thighs.
If all went as planned, she would see her father tonight. Tonight he would have to make a decision—to allow her and her father to go free, or to turn them in to the Foreign Office. Duty versus honor. If he did his duty to his country and his former commanding officer, he would turn Fortier over to the Foreign Office. He should turn them both in, but that was where honor came in. How could he give Collette over to men who would undoubtedly see her questioned, perhaps tortured, and imprisoned if not hanged? What kind of man would he be to take her body, lie with her in his arms, then betray her trust?
He had told her he would help her to get away. He would stand by his word, even if it meant losing Draven’s trust forever. Even if he too might be brought up on charges of treason for aiding spies.
He could go with her…
Rafe’s hand, which had been caressing the curve of Collette’s hip, paused. What if this was not the last time he held her, kissed her, touched her? What if he could have her every day and every night? But leave his life in London? Leave his friends and his family and his bevy of admirers for a life as a fugitive?
It might be worth it to have Collette at his side if not for one problem: he would never run
away like a thief in the night. Rafe had too much respect for Lieutenant Colonel Draven to disappear without a word or an explanation. Duty and honor went hand in hand on that point.
Collette stirred and Rafe moved his hand over her silky skin again, cupping the lush curve of her hip. Under his touch, her skin pebbled with gooseflesh and then her eyes fluttered open. As soon as her gaze focused on him, she smiled. Rafe’s chest seemed to constrict, making it difficult for him to breathe. How many women had smiled at him? How many come-hither glances had he received? None had ever affected him like Collette’s. None had ever made him feel nervous and tender and randy all at the same time.
“You’re still here,” she murmured, her voice husky from sleep.
“Still here.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
“I didn’t think you were the kind of man who stayed after…” She made a motion with her hand to indicate the bed and what they had done in it.
“I’m not. But I keep telling you, you’re different.” He gathered her closer until her warm body pressed against his. “Don’t you believe me?”
“I am trying.”
He knew what she was not saying. She could not fully trust him until he was put to the test—tonight. He didn’t blame her because he didn’t trust himself.
“I like waking up beside you.” She kissed him lightly on the mouth and his blood started to hum as it raced through his veins.
“Do you?” His hand drifted from her hip to her round bottom. “What else do you like?”
“The way you touch me. The way you look at me. The way you kiss me.”
He resisted the urge to claim her, instead taking her lips tenderly. He moved down to her jaw, then her cheek, then her temple, her brow, and the bridge of her nose. His mouth moved over her skin in feathery strokes until she was sighing with pleasure. He angled up on an elbow and looked down at her. Rafe didn’t think he had ever seen a more beautiful woman than Collette with her moist, red lips and her pink cheeks. He spread her dark hair out on the bed beneath her, then kissed her neck and her clavicle.
She wrapped her arms around him, urging him back to her mouth, but he shook his head. “I want to worship you. I want to kiss every inch of you.”
Shoulders, arms, fingers, belly, knees, and toes. By the time the sun streaked over her breasts, he knew every inch of her. And she was panting with need. He understood that need because his own cock throbbed with desire for her. Her nipples had hardened into points, the sun making their pink tips look almost golden. Her legs had opened, giving him a peek at her womanhood. He hadn’t kissed her there yet, but now he spread her legs wider and brushed his jaw along her inner thigh.
Collette sighed, her breath hitching as he inched closer to her core. She was pink and petal soft here, her skin glistening with the evidence of her arousal. That little, rosy bud looked swollen with need, and when he scraped his tongue over it, her entire body quivered. Her knees fell open wider as she gave him her trust. Rafe took his time pleasuring her. He’d always been good at pleasuring women and he’d always enjoyed it, but never so much he would forgo his own pleasure. But Rafe could have spent the rest of the day pleasuring Collette and never once thought of himself. After her first climax, she tried to close her legs, but he coaxed them open again, and under his ministrations, she was soon writhing and moaning once again.
And then, quite unexpectedly, she tugged at his hair. He looked up at her, at her dark, shining eyes. “I want you. All of you.”
He couldn’t resist the plea in her voice. He didn’t even want to. He covered her body with his, sliding over her and then into her slick, wet sheath. She moaned and her hips rose to take him in until he’d buried himself to the hilt. Her eyes went hazy, her focus drifting as he began to move within her. And then she met his gaze again, and her fingers twined with his so that he pinned her arms to the bed. Rafe was not gentle. He took his pleasure, thrusting deep and hard in a quickening rhythm. He felt her muscles squeeze, and she let out a soft exclamation in French as she climaxed.
He looked into her eyes as she came, felt her body tighten around him, and he had never felt closer to another person than in that moment. His own release was hard on the heels of hers, overlapping it, and he withdrew quickly, but his eyes never left hers as he spilled his seed.
He stared at her, panting, pleasure spiraling through him. He’d never sought intimacy before. He’d wanted encounters designed to give him release, not to feel emotions. But now so many emotions coursed through him that he didn’t know how to categorize them much less what to do with them. But as they finally drew apart and he flopped on the bed, chest rising and falling, Rafe’s rib cage still felt tight. And he knew the specific area where the constriction was strongest—his heart.
He loved Collette Fortier. He, Rafe Alexander Frederick Beaumont, was in love.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
* * *
Collette’s empty belly woke her. She opened her eyes to find herself alone in her chamber. Rafe had covered her with the counterpane, but he’d taken his clothing and gone. She sat and peered at the door adjoining their rooms. It was closed.
Lying back with a sigh, Collette closed her eyes against the sting of tears. He had retreated again. She’d thought...but she was a fool to keep hoping he would ever love her. And even if he did love her, they had no future together. She would never sacrifice her father, not even for a man she loved as much as she loved Rafe Beaumont.
The room was dark, but the sky outside was still a pewter gray. Gaines had told them he would fetch them at full dark, which gave her a little time to dress and to think. She washed and pinned her hair and considered her options. She did not know what sort of shape her father would be in, if he would be well enough to travel, but she knew she had to take him far away from England as quickly as she could. If possible, tonight. Wapping was too close to London, too close to the Foreign Office and Lady Ravensgate. She did not want to risk being found and losing her father once again.
She had reasoned it this way. They couldn’t return to France. Her father would never be safe as long as the Bourbons were on the throne. He’d perpetrated too many crimes against them. And they could not go anywhere within easy reach of the British. That left one good option: the United States.
Fortunately, she had found the last piece she needed to make her plans reality. She knew just the man to help her book passage to America.
She had just finished dressing, no easy task when attempted by herself, when Rafe tapped on the door and entered. As usual, he looked as though he had spent an hour with a valet. His clothing, though it had been tossed on the floor like hers, was pressed and unwrinkled. His hair was stylishly tousled and his eyes looked at her with his usual mixture of sinful charm. Only his jaw gave any indication he had not dressed for a night at Almack’s. Dark stubble gave him a dangerous look.
“I took the liberty of ordering tea and scones. Will you come into my chamber and eat something? We have a long night ahead of us.”
She nodded, wondering if he knew exactly how long it would be for her. She did not think she would have time to sleep or do much more than eat a few bites for days, perhaps weeks. Though her belly was tense, she forced herself to drink a little tea and nibble on a scone.
“I have been thinking, and now that I’ve seen this place, I’ve formulated a plan.”
She nodded. “Go on.”
He related the particulars, and though she could see several potential problems, it was better than she might have conceived. She agreed, then set down her uneaten pastry.
“You’re not hungry?” he asked. She might have asked him the same since he hadn’t touched the food.
“I’m nervous. I haven’t seen my father in months.”
“You won’t wait much longer. Gaines has had time to gain information on the ship and its passengers. If we had guessed wrong or anything he disc
overed contradicted our theories, he would have let us know before now. If your father is on that ship, we will see him before the night is over.”
She took a breath and tried to smile. Collette tried to think of something else to say, but her thoughts spun away before she could grasp one. The silence between them grew, and she was relieved when a tap on the door ended the awkwardness.
Rafe crossed to the door. Gaines stood in the doorway, his brows lifted. “Ready?”
Collette nodded.
“Yes,” Rafe said. “But I need to step out to the stable and speak to my coachman. I want the horses and the coach ready for a quick departure.”
“Of course. We will wait for you in the private dining room.”
Once downstairs, Rafe went his way and Gaines escorted her to a small room lit by a fire. No one dined there now, but beyond the door that opened into the public room, she could hear the rumble of men’s voices and the clink of silver.
“I think you have something to say to me,” Gaines said softly. “Best to say it now before he returns.”
She looked at him, praying she could trust him.
“Am I mistaken?”
“No,” she said. “I may need to leave quickly.”
“And that is why Mr. Beaumont readies the coach?”
“I may need to leave without him.”
Gaines nodded slowly. “And you want help securing passage?”
“I want to go to the United States. I think you are the best man to help me there.”
“I know all the captains and their destinations—their real destinations,” he added. “I can put you on a ship bound for America. There is one that may sail as early as tomorrow evening.”
“Nothing sooner?”
“Not out of Wapping. But if it’s your companion you fear, trust that I will make certain he does not prevent you from boarding the ship. The sailors will not allow him to take you off.”
“I don’t have any money. My father may have some—”
