Her breath deepened. She didn’t allow her hands to tarry long as they moved from his shaft to explore his hips. She moved around him, as if eager to see and feel all of him. She ran her hands over his spine, his shoulders and arms, gliding down over the backs of his thighs. When it appeared her exploration of him was going to go on forever, Harrison reached behind his back and pulled her forcibly around to face him. He kicked his pants from his ankles as he drew her before his chest.
“Now, my turn,” he said huskily. Her eyes widened as he leaned over to lift her nightdress from her. In one quick swoop, she was naked. Her first reaction was to cover herself, though it was pointless after what he’d done to her that morning in the cottage and with what he was going to do to her tonight—what her coming to him said she wanted him to do.
“Tsk, tsk,” he scolded, drawing her arms down to her sides and away from her breasts. He leaned to kiss her shoulder and she jerked with pleasurable sensations. The reaction completely fascinated him. Whispering, he said, “It’s my turn. Hold still.”
He drew his fingers up her arms, exploring her with bold strokes over her flesh. He teased her breasts, rubbing them, cupping them, avoiding the centers, which budded instantly in protest of the neglect. He trailed his hands over her hips, gently swooping over her curves. Her skin was so soft, addicting. He cupped her buttocks, squeezing hard, spreading her open ever so slightly.
“Ah,” she gasped, taking a sharp breath when he did it again.
“Very lovely,” he said to her. Licking his lips, he added, “So beautiful.”
Her arms reached for his neck, wanting to draw him down between her thighs. He kissed her mouth in a bold, passionate sweep of the tongue. He tweaked her breasts, giving the center peaks attention at last.
“Oh, Lord Wrotham,” she gasped, trying to push on his shoulders to get him to his knees.
Harrison growled, leaning to take a breast in his mouth, sucking at it deeply.
“Please, I can’t take this,” she pleaded, pushing harder.
“Mmm,” he groaned into her chest. Pulling away, he looked at her. “I’m not letting you leave. Not until I’ve had all of you. There is no escape for either of us.”
She trembled to hear the possessive fire in his words, but he didn’t give her time to wonder at them. “No, please, do what you did this morning…kiss me again. Please, it aches.”
Her cheeks colored slightly.
“Where?” he asked playfully. He took his fingers to her and pressed them intimately into her slick opening. He was delighted to find her extremely wet and ready for him. If ever there was a doubt about her having passion, the moisture pooling on his fingers won the debate. “Here?”
“Ah, yes,” she cried, trying her best to thrust against his hand.
He instantly crushed her lips with his to silence her scream. His eyes widened as it was muffled into his mouth. He drew his fingers back.
“You have to try and be quiet,” he said in a soft voice when she quieted to a mumbling protest. “Or you will call the whole house to us.”
Syrian bit her lip. Her eyes dipped as if in apology.
“Ah, never be sorry for it,” he growled into her, going to kiss her again and again in a tender onslaught between words. “I like that I can make you scream. Now, get in my bed so I can better explore you. I’m going to show you that there is much more pleasure to be had than just a simple kiss.”
Taking a deep breath, she did as he commanded. Harrison strolled after her as she hastened across the floor. Syrian threw back the red coverlet. By the time she turned around, he was crawling in after her. She didn’t bother to pull the covers up. The night was warm and his body seemed to radiate a heat all its own.
She rushed forward, meeting him before he was to her. Her lips parted to kiss his. They knelt before each other, their lips joined, their bodies searching and pressing together. He grabbed her fingers, drawing them down to his arousal, desperate to have her stroke him.
“Touch me here,” he growled to her lips. He guided her hands back and forth over his smooth length. “Ah, yes, just like that.”
He forced her on her back, licking her breasts, devouring them as he sucked the buds deeply into his mouth. Her hand fell away from him, unable to reach as he drew his mouth lower. He licked her navel and her back arched. Her hips searched for him.
He drew his finger to part her opening. His eyes were steamy as he watched her thrash about. He rubbed her, circling her swollen lips and nub with precision. She panted for him, sighing and moaning at what he did. When he felt her body begin to tremble, he pulled back.
She moaned in protest. He worked his mouth along her flesh, kissing and nibbling eagerly along her body, until he was above her once more. His arousal pulsed with a fiery need only she could meet. His hands were on her legs, spreading her for him. He knew her body was ready, had tasted her desire.
He swallowed, hesitating only slightly as he brought himself to her. She was so exquisite, sprawled willingly beneath him. For a moment, he wondered if he was insane, wondered if his mind had finally taken pity on him and given him an illusion he could hold.
“I have to warn you,” he said into her ear, desperate not to mess up his chance. He kissed her neck, sending chills racking over her body. “This might hurt, being that it’s your first time.”
“Mmm,” Syrian moaned, her eyes closed. “I don’t care. I need you.”
Harrison let loose a short sigh at her words, hope building with each passing second. Syrian didn’t realize all she had said to him with those words. Her lips continued to moan and pant incoherent thoughts.
He brought himself to her, driven by every fiber in his being to join them. He wanted her so badly he almost cried.
Syrian didn’t notice, too drawn up in her own thoughts of newfound pleasures to look at him. Her body stirred to such a pitch that she was sure he killed her and she didn’t care. Her legs worked restlessly against him, begging in a way her mind could not. His body overwhelmed until she could feel nothing but the man before her. Syrian’s body pulsed with life. Fire burned everywhere, pooling in her hips until she was sure she would explode if he didn’t take his lips to her body once more. Her eyes closed, she tensed, feeling him rubbing himself against her soft opening. She never knew her flesh could be so sensitive. It was an odd mix of scalding heat and unyielding hardness. It felt so wicked, so wrong, yet incredibly right. She’d never wanted something as much as she wanted him to touch her, to make her wicked too.
Slowly, he pressed forward, breaking her tight sheath to his larger body. She gasped in surprise to feel him inside, gliding persistently forward, filling her. She never imagined he would do that. She never imagined it would feel so…so delightful. She gasped, trying to sense past the uncomfortable ache. Harrison licked her neck and she shivered. His hands were on her body, moving smoothly over the sweat that beaded from his deep possession. He rocked in shallow thrusts, massaging her tight passage open, adjusting her slowly to his size.
“Ah,” she moaned, her eyes flying open to look at him. He rose up on his elbow, staring passionately down at her with a look on his face she couldn’t comprehend—pain, pleasure, gut-wrenching agony? She shivered to see the pure rawness of his unrefined emotions. She worked her hands over his arms to his neck, rubbing along his face until he turned to nip lightly at her wrist, kissing her racing pulse. She pulled his mouth down to kiss her.
Harrison bit her lips gently, distracting her as he thrust fully within, past the seal of her innocence. He swallowed her gasp of surprise into his mouth, licking tenderly at her lips and teeth as she recovered from the initial shock of his complete entry.
A soft moan sounded in the back of her throat. The pain was only a small annoyance after the pitch his hands, mouth, and eyes had raised her to. She squirmed beneath him. Her knees tightened along his waist, only to release him.
“My lord,” she breathed into his soft kiss, moaning and panting, beyond all logical thought or reason. H
e pulled back, his gaze searching hers in the dim moonlight. His hips moved, his body thrusting gently within her, stroking shallow and deep, rocking against her core as she further adjusted to his size. She relaxed to allow him easier entrance.
With a low moan, he gave her his entire thick length, seating himself so that his hips were flush against hers. She whimpered softly but didn’t fight the depth as he pulled and pushed himself inside her.
The friction of him built inside her, pushing at her. She saw his muscular form, outlined by blue light, flexing as he moved. She cried out, not caring who heard her. His mouth pressed to hers, stealing her breath until all she could do was moan lightly into him.
The tension built inside her where he touched. It was almost more than she could bear. She tried to move, tried to learn his rhythm as she moved her hips against him. Her fingers gripped his skin, digging her nails into his hard flesh as she quaked uncontrollably. Her heart hammered so loud she heard it thundering in her ears.
Harrison groaned, feeling how hot, how tight, how wet, her passage was for him. He pressed deeper still, until he was almost buried to the hilt of his shaft. It was bittersweet agony, holding himself back, rocking in slow thrusts. He couldn’t take it. The slick juices from her body coated him in acceptance and he knew he had to feel all of her. He felt her body getting closer. Never could he have imagined so much pleasure in one simple act of lovemaking. His heart beat hard in his chest. He loved her, had wanted her for so long and now she was his—completely. The thought drove him to madness and he withdrew almost entirely only to thrust again and again.
His hips pumped faster, hitting firm and hard against her deep core, pushing her over the edge. Anticipating her scream, he captured her mouth tightly to his as she exploded. Her cry was muffled by his deep kiss as he groaned his own release. Tremors shook violently through her, spurring him to bury himself hard and so deep he was sure he touched her very soul. Harrison didn’t bother to pull out, knowing that she could never belong to anyone but him, as he released his seed heavily inside her womb.
Syrian’s scream turned to a moan, which turned into a soft pant, which faded into an incoherent whimper of approval and delight. Her arms fell weakly from him to the bed, nestling into her long hair.
His heart lodged in his throat, he leaned over to kiss her, tender and soft. He’d been with a lot of women, but none compared to her—none were so sweet, or so real in their passion. He nibbled along the rim of her ear, wanting instantly to claim her again and again. He couldn’t get enough of her taste, her feel. Her body trembled, quivering where he was still embedded inside her. Reluctant to leave the warmth of her, he forced himself to pull out.
Chapter Six
Syrian felt her body slowly coming back to reality. Every inch of her tingled with newly discovered pleasures. Feeling Harrison’s hand on her stomach, caressing lightly, she shivered. She was almost too afraid to look at him.
“Are you cold?” he asked, leaning over to her temple to drop kisses along her hairline. He was lying on his side, facing her, looking at her gloriously naked body. Never had she been so happy.
Instead of answering, for her body felt as if it were still on fire, she opened her eyes to study him. “How many women have you had like this? I know it has to be a great many for your reputation precedes you.”
He nearly choked on his own tongue and answered cautiously, “None that matter since I first saw you.”
She forced a small, indifferent chuckle and wondered at his vague answer. So he’d been with someone else in the last week? She knew the knowledge shouldn’t have bothered her, but it did. She didn’t want to think of him with anyone else—especially at this moment when he touched her so tenderly, intimately.
“It doesn’t matter, mind you,” she answered, covering her mouth to yawn. Her face turned away and the long line of her neck strained before his lips.
Harrison couldn’t resist. He kissed her throat, licking playfully at it. Her words stung him deeply, but he would never show it. How could he answer a question like that? Surely the truth would only upset her. Well, at least one form of the truth would. He thought of the last year spent pining for her. His vanity could convince him that she was just nervous, having lost her virginity to someone who didn’t make promises to her.
“How are you?” he asked, again nuzzling her ear. He trailed his hand lower over her hip, rubbing gently. “Sore?”
Syrian blushed at the forward question and tried to hide her face. “Ah, I…a little.”
He chuckled.
Suddenly, she sat up. Glancing around, she tried to avoid looking at his naked body.
“Where…?” he began, reaching to stop her as she hopped off the bed.
“I should get back to my own room,” she rushed, spying her nightgown and pulling it over her head. He threw his legs over the side of the bed to go after her. She was loosely dressed by the time he got there. Wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, he pulled her to his chest, letting her feel the hard length of his desire for her.
“I don’t want you to go,” he murmured to her neck, loving the way she shivered when he touched her there.
“I can’t stay, my lord,” she said, trying to shake loose. “I might fall asleep. What if one of the servants comes in and catches us? What would Thomas say?”
“We both know what Thomas would say,” said Harrison, holding tighter the more she fought to be free. The thick nightgown only added to the softness of her. “He would demand I honor you with marriage.”
“Exactly,” she breathed, going very still—too still. “Neither of us wants that.”
He swallowed, his breath deepened as he thought of her words. He wanted it—more than anything, he wanted it. His words guarded, he asked, “Would being my wife be so bad?”
“Oh,” she fumed, turning in his arms to face him. Her brow furrowed with a deep frown. “You can’t be serious for a moment, can you? You, my lord rogue, have no desire for a wife. Just as I have no desire for you as a husband. This is an adventure and—”
Harrison kissed her to get her to shut up. He didn’t want to listen to her words. She felt something for him—something strong enough to make her want to come to him like this.
“If you married me,” he said into her lips when his kiss had begun to soften them, “we could make love whenever and however we wanted without fear of being caught.”
His hands roamed her gown, grasping at her hair as he deepened his kiss.
She hit his shoulder, but gasped at the way his tongue darted in and out of her lips, teasing her. She shivered, moaning.
A loud knock on the door stopped them. She tensed, pulling back, her eyes wide in fright.
“Harry?” Thomas called. “Are you awake? Can we come in?”
“Hide,” he said quietly, pointing to the side of the bed. Syrian didn’t need to be told twice. She dove under the side of the bed, trying to inch herself beneath the wooden frame. It was a tight fit.
Harrison made sure she was hidden before crossing over to the door. He was naked, so only leaned over enough to peek through the crack. Seeing Thomas and Mr. Turner waiting for him, he forced a sleepy yawn. Mr. Turner was a studious man who looked more like a banker than an artist. His harsh lips pressed tightly together in a way that made him look like an intolerable bore. However, he was anything but.
“What is it?” he asked, blinking as if he just awoke. He made a great show of rubbing his eyes.
“Oh,” Thomas mused, shaking his head and laughing. “I forgot it was so late. I just wanted to show Mr. Turner that portrait I did of Syrian. We were discussing the ability of art to mimic life and I just had to tell him of it. Naturally, he wanted to see it for himself.”
“I don’t have it,” Harrison lied.
Thomas blinked, an expression between hurt and confusion.
“I sent it on to my estate this morning while you were in your study. I couldn’t bear to look at it. It was too disheartening.”
�
��Oh,” Thomas said, believing to understand. He delicately waved his hand in disappointment. “I’m sorry to have awakened you.”
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Harrison said. He shut the door. Standing, he breathed deeply. He didn’t care for Thomas to discover his sister in his room, not without making an honorable request for her hand first. And he definitely didn’t want to have to explain why the portrait was changed—at least not yet.
When he turned around, she stood by the edge of the bed and glared at him.
“You have my portrait?” she spat in anger. She tried to dart to the side, making a move to go around his naked body. Harrison stepped in her way.
“Thomas gave it to me,” he answered, not bothering to cover his nakedness. A lazy smile found its way to his features to see her flushed face. He looked her over, prompting her gaze to dip over him. She began to warm, seeing his arousal growing before his flat, hard stomach.
“Oh,” she huffed, as he distracted her with his steamy looks. “Why would he give it to you? I want it destroyed.”
“I wanted it,” Harrison said, simply. He made a move to go to her. She artfully stepped around him to the door. “And he knew you didn’t want it around.”
“Well, I didn’t want you to have it. Of all people,” She growled in irritation.
“You can’t leave yet,” he said, his voice quiet.
“You don’t own me,” she said, reaching for the handle. “I can do what I wish.”
“Thomas may be out in the hall,” he warned. She stiffened and dropped her hand. Harrison came up behind her, reaching around to grab her stomach. He pressed her soft body back into him. Instantly, his lips were on her neck, weakening her resolve to leave.
“Will you check?” she asked, breathless. He cupped her breasts, kneading them, making the tips hard and achy.
“No, I want you to stay. I want to make love to you again and again.” He grabbed her shoulders and swung her around to face him. Syrian, remembering he had her portrait, struck at his shoulder lightly in defiance. “I want to show you things—such wondrous things that we can do together.”
Portrait of His Obsession Page 7
