by Alice Gaines
Suddenly, he turned over, and his arm flopped on top of her. She bit her lip before a cry escaped, but he roused. For a moment, his eyes opened but didn’t focus properly. Then, they closed again and he was everywhere on her. His weight pinned her to the mattress and his mouth captured hers. No niceties, just a savage kiss as if he’d devour her.
Finally. She’d come for this. She answered with her own mouth, although she could hardly keep up with the pace of his caresses. His hands moved over her, stroking her flesh, molding her body to fit against his own. Just the friction of their bodies was enough to ready her for the joining that would follow.
“Yes, David,” she whispered against his lips. “Yes, oh yes.”
“What?” He propped himself on his elbows and shook his head. Finally, his eyes came into focus. “Bloody hell, Juliet. What are you doing here?”
“Making love with you.”
“God’s teeth!”
“Don’t fight me, David,” she said. “We want each other. It’s unnatural to deny ourselves.”
He did want her, too. The evidence against her thigh proved that fact beyond a doubt. He’d become aroused, his member full and long, stamping its hot imprint into her flesh. As hot as the rest of his body and insistent. It belonged inside her, satisfying them both.
“Of course, I want you, you little fool,” he said. “But not like this.”
“What’s wrong with this?” she nearly shouted. “We’re together, in a bed, naked. What could be better?”
“You could be my wife, not some woman who sneaked in here like a modern-day Cleopatra.”
“I’m not some woman.” And the idea that she might resemble Cleopatra was laughable. Or would be, if she felt the least bit like laughing.
“That’s my point.” He stared down at her, the candlelight flickering in his eyes. It had to be a trick of movement of fire and shadow, but for a moment his gaze revealed something from inside him. Heat, yes. Desire, certainly. But something else lay behind the obvious. An emotion—dark and bright at the same time, real and true and frightening in its intensity. For a moment, her heart seemed to stop and then thudded in her chest, and she could happily have slipped out from beneath him and skittered off to hide. No man had ever looked at her that way before, and maybe, no man ever would again.
The light shifted, and the illusion disappeared, leaving nothing but the handsome rake who challenged her and tormented her. Then his gaze softened. “I want you, Juliet Foster. Why can’t you believe that?”
“Then take me.”
“It isn’t that simple. Believe me.” He closed his eyes in supreme frustration. “Perhaps some day you’ll understand.”
Oh, she understood, and he had no monopoly on frustration. This whole thing—what she’d thought would be her triumph—had turned into an utter disaster. He wanted her. Even he wouldn’t deny that. But he didn’t want her enough to get past some ridiculous scruple about taking her virginity. He’d rejected her. Again. She had to give up on him once and for all. Really, she did.
Just as she’d recovered enough dignity to throw him off her and slink back to the guest room, he lowered his face to hers again. This time, he brushed his lips over her forehead in a whisper of a kiss. He did the same with the tip of her nose and then took her mouth again.
As much savagery as he’d used before, now he matched that with sweetness. He took great care to favor every corner of her lips. Her heart soared again as she kissed him back. She’d known his mouth a few times now and had learned how to answer his caresses. This time, she could run her palms over his shoulders and revel in the texture of his skin and the firmness of the flesh beneath.
His hands moved, too, first stroking her hair back from her face and then cupping her jaw. He released her mouth and tipped her head backward, stretching out her throat. Now, he nibbled along the length of her neck and then lowered his body along hers as his lips went to the top of her chest.
She knew his destination now, and her nipples tightened in anticipation. As wicked as the contact had felt hours earlier, their nakedness added a dimension of carnality impossible for an encounter behind a shrub in a dark garden. Now, his body moved over hers with nothing separating them. His hard chest pressed against her breasts as his hands explored her ribs and traveled to her waist. For her part, she could measure the width of his back with her fingertips and even scrape the nails softly over his skin.
He took forever getting to his destination, and when he did, he used his hand to massage one breast while he circled the other with his tongue. Even the underside received his full attention. Her flesh seemed to swell and blossom for him, growing heavy and sensitive. By the time he finally took the nipple into his mouth, she’d already surrendered to him.
Whatever he did now, she’d allow it. Moisture had collected between her thighs, and the gentle ache there became a throbbing. He knew how to soothe the burning there, and he’d do it. He might nearly kill her with the slow pace of his progress, but he’d give her the same intense pleasure he’d done earlier. She only had to wait.
He removed his mouth from that nipple and took the other one. The first had tightened into a bud, and he teased it with his finger, drawing circles around it while he sucked the second and used his tongue to press it against the roof of his mouth. She couldn’t hold back a moan of approval as she sank deeper into a world where the sensual ruled and nothing mattered but the next touch, the next sigh, the next tug of his lips at the tip of her breast.
“David,” she crooned. Nothing could say more than his name. Those two syllables held a world of need and delight. “David.”
“Juliet.” He burrowed his face into the furrow between her breasts, now kneading both with his fingers. He made no move upward to take his position between her legs and guide his cock into her. Neither did he work his fingers between her legs as he had earlier in the garden. Instead, he kept up the pressure against her breast as he slid lower along her body.
He pressed kisses over her belly and then went down and down, easing her legs apart.
The lips of her sex became extra sensitive and seemed to swell, as if they knew his intention. More wetness oozed from her, coating the lips and the tops of her inner thighs. Unbelievable.
When he finally touched her at that most intimate place, she sighed, and her hips jerked upward in shock.
“What perfume,” he whispered, his voice thick. “I could come just smelling you.”
“Touch me again.”
“I can do better than that.” He nuzzled his nose into the hairs that covered her sex, and his intent flashed through her brain.
“David, you can’t,” she cried. “You mustn’t kiss me there.”
“Why ever not?”
“I’m so wet. It’ll be unpleasant.”
“You’ll taste like caramel. Trust me.”
“Oh dear—” She managed those two words before his mouth closed over her sex and all sanity fled.
His tongue lapped at the petals of her sex. Slowly, from back to front and then back again. She went limp, her legs falling apart. If she’d thought to put up some protest, she lost any power to try now. She could no more push him away than she could will her heart to stop beating. Instead, she reached down and tangled her fingers into his hair to savor the small movements of his head as he continued his assault.
Her body had no trouble accepting the miracle of having his head between her thighs and his tongue between the folds of her sex. Every part of her became warm and liquid—her very bones melting from the inside out. Her pearl hardened into a tight point at the center of her universe. That scrap of flesh knew what to expect, and it burned at the apex of her thighs, waiting for his touch.
He grazed the underside with his tongue, and her body stiffened as a cry tore from between her clenched teeth.
Too much. Too much. How would she ever survive this?
He waited for a second before he touched her again. Gently, but the contact sent the same current through her nerv
es.
Faintly, she became aware that she’d dug her fingertips into his hair, holding his face against her. She needed this. Craved it. Would weep with frustration if he stopped.
He didn’t, of course. He pulled her legs up and over his shoulders, grasped her hips in his big hands, and went back to devouring her.
This time, she was ready for the power of his caress and could allow herself the pleasure. He stroked her bud more firmly than before. Pressing, pressing, while her heart raced and the tension coiled inside her. Not much more and she’d snap. The end became inevitable. That word he’d used—she’d spend.
Now, now. Oh, now.
When he took the nubbin between his lips and tugged at it, she flew past the boundary. A tide rushed through her, cresting, until it broke into an enormous wave that crashed over her. She shouted as another followed it, even stronger. Her whole body shook as it continued, her sex pulsating rhythmically.
He didn’t release her pearl until the storm had run its course. When she’d finally finished, he pressed his face against her thigh. His own body jerked violently a few times, and he released a muffled roar into her flesh. After a bit, he went limp on top of her, moaning.
Finally, normal breath returned, although she couldn’t have lifted an arm if she’d used all her strength. Neither of them moved. Her hand still rested on his head. His nose still burrowed into her thigh. Soft and even, his breath warmed her skin.
“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen asleep,” she managed to whisper.
“No, though you may have rendered me unconscious.”
“I did nothing to you except for a few kisses,” she said.
He groaned. “I’ll explain some other time.”
Another time. There would be other times. Finally, she found the strength to stroke his head. She even found his face and ran her hand over his stubble of beard.
He caught her hand, kissed her fingers, and then lifted himself to scramble up beside her. When he pulled her into his arms, she pressed her face into his chest and kissed the closest bit of skin she could find. They lay together that way as his heart beat just below her ear and his fingers made lazy circles over her back. The hardness that had pressed against her belly before had disappeared. Just as well, as she didn’t have the energy to entertain his cock any longer.
“You mustn’t crawl into a man’s bed any more,” he said.
“Not even yours?”
“Oh, Juliet—”
“I’ll take that as permission,” she said.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Determined.”
He kissed the top of her head. “There are no real words for you, Juliet Foster.”
She stretched and yawned. What heaven it was to lie, sated, in his arms. It was almost enough…almost…to convince her she ought to marry him, after all.
“Oh, no,” he said. “Don’t you dare fall asleep.”
“I was just resting my eyes.”
“Rest them in your own room,” he said. “You have to go back.”
“Would it be so terrible if I spent the rest of the night here?”
“And have my valet find you in the morning?”
“Oh.” She could make some clever remark that his manservant must have found other women in his bed, but thinking about that could sour the mood. Besides, she didn’t have any clothes to cover herself if a strange man entered.
“All right.” She pushed out of his embrace and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. One of her hands rested on a wet spot. He’d spent, too.
“Run along now. You need your sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow, we’ll need to puzzle out how to get you home.”
***
“She’s won, James.”
His valet set the tray with his coffee on the bedside table and straightened. “My lord?”
“Miss Foster. She’s won.”
James poured him a cup and held it out. “As you say, sir.”
He pushed himself up to lean against the headboard and took the cup. “She visited me last night.”
“She did?”
“After everyone had gone to bed. She woke Tim to let her in. She was in disguise.”
“Good Lord.”
“There’s worse. She’s still here.” Unless the idiotic woman had tried getting back to Mitford’s in the daylight dressed as she’d been when she’d arrived. No, even she wouldn’t do that.
“So, that’s what has Mr. Russell in an understated uproar,” James said. “A maid must have found her and told him.”
“I’m sure he’s having a butlery fit.” He took a sip of his coffee. It was dark and rich and more bracing than tea. A handy habit he’d picked up in the United States. “It can’t be helped.”
“Why would she come here so late at night?” James asked.
“To seduce me.”
“Flattering,” James said. “No woman’s ever done that for me.”
“Nor for me. Until now.”
James smiled and moved away to start his morning business of preparing Derrington’s clothing for the day.
“I didn’t do it,” Derrington said.
“My lord?”
“I didn’t frig her.”
“None of my business, sir.” James handed him his robe and went back to his work.
“Not even when she sneaked into my bed as I slept.”
James paused in the act of swirling his shaving brush against the soap. “She did that?”
“Naked. I should have worn a night shirt.” He set aside his cup and shrugged quickly into his robe. “On the other hand, that wouldn’t have saved me.”
“But you said you didn’t commit the act with her,” James said. “So she didn’t win.”
“But she did. The next time I touch her, I won’t be able to stop myself, and I’m sure to touch her.”
“If you don’t mind my saying, sir…”
“Please. I’d appreciate any suggestion.” He rose long enough to pull the robe around him and tie the belt.
“Well, she’s an innocent, but hardly a young one,” James said.
“Over thirty.”
“She’s not planning to marry, is she?”
“She’s not planning to marry me,” he said. “She’s made that clear.”
“But, she does want you to…”
“Tumble her.” Lord, how she responded to his touch. Every time he kissed her, she melted against him. A touch to her breast made her cunny moisten for him. And her climax. She did that with her entire body. So powerfully he’d come right after.
“Clearly, you want her,” James said.
He didn’t answer but merely groaned in frustration.
“Then why don’t you just do it, my lord?” James said. “You can find some other way to convince her to marry you.”
“It’s more complicated than that, I’m afraid. Blandings overheard a conversation. As soon as she’s had me, she plans to run away to Paris.”
“Why would she do that?”
“She has some idiotic idea of becoming a wanton and sampling men from all over the Continent.”
James’ brow furrowed. “Really?”
“Really. The moment I give in to her, I lose her.”
“A sticky problem.”
“Give me a shave, will you?”
James moved a chair to the center of the room. “Of course.”
Derrington sat. He could shave himself, but James did it well and seemed to have his best ideas with a razor in his hand.
James placed towels strategically around his neck and proceeded to lather his jaw and face. “Have you thought of finding another wife, my lord?”
“I should. This one could prove more trouble than she’s worth.” The problem was, did he really understand her worth? She measured up in every way. Smart, energetic, more amusing than any other woman he’d ever met. Spirited in bed. When he finally did bed her, and he would, she’d likely turn his life upside-down. If that happened, no other woman would ever tempt him.
He lifted his chin so that James could lather his neck. “No, I won’t marry anyone else.”
“Do you think your grandmother will approve of her?”
“Absolutely. She might have been made to order for Harry.”
“Aside from her height, she does remind me of Lady Harriet.” James picked up the razor and carefully scraped it over Derrington’s cheek. “And I understand she made your grandfather very happy, if it’s not out of my place to say so, sir.”
“Right you are.” The two of them had adored each other, although they hadn’t always done it quietly. The occasional arguments and flying crockery had upset him as a child until Harry had reassured him passion took all forms. He’d thought he understood that, but before Miss Foster, he hadn’t, really. Curse him, why couldn’t he be like his father and want nothing more than a docile mate who’d give him an heir and never assert herself afterwards?
James tilted Derrington’s head back so he could shave beneath his chin. “If I may be so bold, I’ve never seen you like this about a woman,”
“And how do I seem?”
James finished with his neck and released his head. “Smitten, my lord.”
“Right you are again. It had to happen some time, I suppose.”
“So you really don’t want to lose Miss Foster.”
“Really.”
“Then we’ll have to think of some way you can have her and then convince her not to leave.”
Derrington took James’s wrist and pushed his hand, and the razor, away from his face. “By God, I think you’re onto something.”
“I am?”
“It’s so simple. I should have thought of it myself. I only need to keep her from wanting to leave me.”
“How could you do that?” James said.
He tapped his lips as his mind raced. “What if I took her someplace so romantic she wanted to stay?”
“Derrington Manor would suit for that, wouldn’t it?” James said.
“It certainly would. I could take her there and sweep her off her feet completely. That would work.” He shot out of his chair and paced a bit. “I could tell her that I want to take her to my ancestral home for her first taste of real sex.”
