Once Upon a True Love's Kiss

by Julie Johnstone

  A crease appeared between her brows as a hiss of breath escaped her. But after a moment, and without moving her leg away from his, she did as he had asked, her hand brushing his as she grasped her glass.

  "I've got it now," he said, his voice coming out tight to match the need mounting inside of him. He picked up his glass and gulped the remainder of the wine down. He needed to cool off before he grasped her in his arms and ran his lips over her delectable neck and mouth.

  She drummed her fingers on her glass for a moment before speaking. "Are you trying to get me foxed?"

  "No. I was trying to get you to loosen up a bit. Ever since we shared that kiss and I mentioned you filling the position of my wife, you've acted like a skittish colt around me. I'm not desperate, Julianna. I'm not going to throw you over my shoulder, haul you to Gretna Green, and force you to marry me." Though the idea held appeal.

  She glared in such a way that it made him want to kiss her more.

  "I don't think that," she grumbled.

  "Excellent. If we are to continue working together, you must relax your guard a bit. Don't you agree?" He held his breath waiting for her response.

  "I suppose so. I'll try."

  He let out a long exhalation of breath. "Outstanding. So, tell me, what do ladies and gentleman of the ton normally do after dinner?"

  "Men usually have a drink and perhaps a cigar, and the women will go to the parlor to chat and have tea."

  "Well, since we are alone, and you told me I already mastered the art of conversing, I suppose we should turn our attention to something else I need to work on."

  "Such as?"

  "Dancing. The waltz, to be specific. I feel certain I'll want to dance it at the Primwitty ball, and I fear I'm not a very good dancer." What he really feared was never holding her close in his arms again.

  Julianna quirked her mouth. "I find it hard to believe you are bad at anything you've set your mind to."

  "I thank you for the compliment," he replied, taking her hand and helping her stand. "Shall we practice in my study?"

  Her footsteps faltered as her gaze quickly came to his. "Your study? Why not your ballroom? I happen to know it's the perfect place to dance."

  "I'd be too embarrassed if anyone should pass by and see me making a fool of myself." Really, he wanted to ensure that if they should happen to share a kiss, no one who might have ventured out of their room would see them.

  Her brow wrinkled, and she looked very much as if she was trying to decide whether to protest or not. "I thought you said you dismissed the servants for the night."

  "I did. But my servants do occasionally venture from their rooms for various and sundry reasons, and I haven't yet taken up the practice of firing them for daring to get a breath of fresh air or perhaps even a midnight snack."

  "How thoughtful of you," she said and quickly turned her face, but not so fast that he didn't see her grin. When she gazed at him once more, she had schooled her features. "I'll dance with you in your study, but you must promise to be good."

  "I promise to be me."

  "Nash." It was one word full of exasperation and tinged with the threat of her leaving.

  "I promise to be good," he vowed. It was entirely her problem she had not specified good at what. He would be very good at weakening her resolve.

  The blood surged through his veins as he led her into his study and shut the door. She moved forward a few paces and then turned slowly toward him, her crimson skirts swishing around her ankles to join the thump of his heartbeat in his ears.

  The trembling of her body was unmistakable, and the need to hold her, touch her, and protect her overwhelmed him. Without a word, he walked to her and swung her into the circle of his arms so that her chest pressed against his. He intertwined his hand with hers and drew their interweaved fingers to his chest. She exhaled, and the coolness of her breath wafted against the skin of his hand. He pressed the palm of his other hand low against her back and molded her hips to his body to savor every curve that made her who she was. Beneath his hand, she shuddered at his touch.

  He stilled, exquisitely afraid she would pull away, run from the room, and never return to him again. Instead, she settled her head against his chest. "Never hold a woman this close for a waltz," she whispered. "It isn't at all proper." Her voice caught on the last word.

  Leaning down, he pressed his lips to her ear. "I'll remember that." He traced the tip of her ear with his tongue and nearly swopped her into his arms when a low whimper escaped her. He had to be careful, slow down and take his cues from her.

  "That is not at all proper, either. Never do that to a woman you want to marry."

  Her words ripped the breath from his chest. Slipping his finger underneath her chin, he raised it until her eyes met his. Fear and fire shimmered in the depths of her eyes. If he could stoke the one then he could dampen the other. "I want to marry you. You would make the perfect mother to Maggie. And the perfect wife to me."

  Her fingers gripped his arms as she held his gaze. "I don't want to marry ever again, Nash. I don't want to be in love."

  He clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to beg her to reconsider. She was clearly wary. He had to remember that. "What about passion? Can you honestly say you never want to feel passion again?"

  "I don't feel passion," she cried out, negating her words with the force of her protest. "And if I do, I shouldn't. Even if we were married, it's not right. Nor seemly. Nor proper to allow passion to control you."

  Nash felt as if he'd just been hit with a massive right hook. He gaped at her for a moment, then slid his hands to her shoulders and gripped her. "Who told you that? Your mother? Your tutors? Surely, you cannot believe that?"

  She flung his hands away and turned her back on him. "My husband told me," she said in a muffled voice. "Over and over. That's the problem," she cried out, her shoulders hunching inward and her hands coming to the back of her neck. "I gave him my love, but he didn't want my passion. Now he's gone, and I'm left with a stark, aching need."

  God help him, he wanted to drop to his knees with the weight of what he felt for her. His heart thundered. He could never settle for having less from her than all the love and passion she had to give. He wanted both. Needed both. Like water to drink and air to breathe. The knowledge hit him like a sharp jab to the left and another to the right. The reality was a relief and a nightmare. He had to have her love as well as desire, and he wanted to give her the same. But if there was any hope of that happening, he had to get her to let go of her fear. He turned her around and captured her chin once again, deciding to take the biggest risk he ever had in his life. He was going to wager all his pride and hope on her falling in love with him. Maybe not this night, but one day soon. Slowly, he trailed his hand between the valley of her breasts, low to her belly and even lower to the juncture between her thighs hidden by the silk gown. He pressed his fingers very gently between her legs, then snaked back up to her breast to lay his palm flat against her heart. It thundered against his hand.

  "Take a chance, Julianna."

  After Forever: Chapter Nine

  THE SLOW CIRCLES NASH'S FINGERS WERE making over Julianna's breasts made her ability to reason flee. He reached behind her back, and before she knew it, she stood in nothing more than her chemise with her gown puddled at her feet. Belatedly, she realized she needed to make sure he took precaution not to get her with child. As he reached for her, she stopped his hand with her own.

  "You must take precautions…"

  A strange expression crossed his face, but he nodded. Relief flooded through her, and her heart beat as if it might explode from her chest. Heaven help her, she had known without the tiniest sliver of doubt that coming into this room to waltz with Nash was a very bad idea, but she'd been powerless to stop herself from coming. And now, looking at him, his face radiating raw hunger for her, she was once again powerless to go, as she most definitely should have. Not only could she not make herself turn for the door and flee into the night but, t
he horrible truth was she didn't want to, and she'd just sealed the fate of this night with her words.

  She wanted to steal one night of pleasure from this man.

  It seemed like forever that she had longed for Henry to look at her as if he wanted to claim her, possess her, ravish her, and to show her with his body the depths of his feelings for her. But that had not been Henry's nature, and she'd accepted that. Nash… Well, Nash was a different sort of man altogether.

  He looked at her as if she were a fine wine he wanted to drink, a delectable dessert he wanted to taste, or a goddess he would drop to his knees to worship with barely contained passion. Was it wrong to want to experience that once? Ruthlessly, she shoved the guilt aside as he slipped his fingers underneath her straps and slid the chemise over her shoulders to join the rest of the garments on the floor. As the air caressed her naked body, she moved to wrap her arms around herself, but he stopped her with his hands and a shake of his head.

  "Don't." His husky voice vibrated her eardrums. "I want to learn every inch of the woman that will be my wife."

  She tensed at his words but did not correct him. Instead, she unfolded her arms and with hesitation born of naïveté raised her shaking hands to his coat. When he nodded and smiled, she started undressing him. He would be angry when he came to understand she had no intention of marrying him, but he would forgive her. He had to. She'd told him from the beginning she didn't want marriage, though she had not said specifically she was afraid to marry him for fear love would come. She did not want that, nor would she allow herself to feel that way.

  As he bent over and lowered his head so she could remove his shirt, her breath snagged in her lungs. Her fingers trailed over his forearms and up the hard muscles of his biceps. When he stood, naked from the torso down, she did not think she could form a proper sentence. He was the opposite of Henry in more than just his demeanor. She had thought Henry handsome, but Nash's body reminded her of the bronze sculpture of the Greek god Ares that Audrey had purchased and placed in her garden just to stir up gossip.

  Nash's skin stretched smoothly over the dips and planes of his corded muscles.

  His broad shoulders and chest tapered to a narrow waist and hips and long powerful legs. Her heart fluttered as she considered what he might look like everywhere else. She swallowed, too afraid to ask him to undress further.

  Thank goodness he seemed to understand. His eyes softened as he stared at her and without a word, he quickly undid his trousers and relieved himself of the rest of his clothing within seconds. When he stood once again, her gaze went immediately to the juncture between his thighs, and she hissed in a breath, wincing as the coolness almost hurt her burning mouth. She was gaping. She knew she was, but she couldn't seem to do anything about it.

  He moved closer to her, the heat of him enveloping her. "Julianna." He whispered her name as he moved his hands in long, slow strokes up and down her bare stomach and breasts. His gentle touch made the ache in her grow tenfold. He bent his head and, ever so gently, took her nipple into his mouth and began to suckle.

  Inside she felt as if the seams that held her together had been yanked apart. Her legs trembled, and she was sure they were not going to hold her up much longer. Every lavishing pull from his mouth to her nipple sent wave after wave of desire through her.

  After a moment, he relinquished his hold on the one breast and moved swiftly to the other, giving it just as much teasing attention as the first. When he was done, he knelt and grasped her behind the legs, to pull her roughly to him. She had to bite down hard to keep from crying out as he rained down kiss after kiss on her belly. She gripped his shoulders, lost in wonderment, but as he lowered to the juncture between her thighs and his hands pressed against the inside of each of her legs in silent plea for her to part them, she flinched in shock. She couldn't help it.

  His gaze immediately met hers. "What is it? Have I hurt you?"

  Heat burned her cheeks. "No." She shook her head and attempted to look away, but then he was suddenly towering before her and pulling her gaze back to him.

  "Tell me." He brushed his lips across hers with such tenderness that tears suddenly stung her eyes.

  "I've never— That is to say, Henry never touched me there, nor did I touch him."

  "Ah," Nash said. "Well, I am not Henry, nor would I presume to ever take his place. I'll make a place of my own, if you'll let me."

  His brutal honesty touched her soul. "Tonight I will," she whispered, unwilling to mislead him in this moment.

  He pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth for a long, lingering kiss. When he broke away, he stroked a hand through her hair as he stared at her. "Do you want to touch me, Julianna?"

  "Would you let me?" she blurted, realizing how foolish the question sounded as it left her mouth. Of course, he would let her. Why else would he have asked?

  His smile held a spark of eroticism that made her insides quiver. They stood for a moment staring at each other, until finally, he took her hands and encouraged her to explore. Her fingers curled around him at once, savoring the hardness, the heat, the blood surging through his veins in tiny pulses.

  Waves of desire rolled though her, leaving no room for any sort of embarrassment. She stroked him, relishing the way he groaned each time she ran her hands up and down his length. The throbbing between her legs intensified with every second that passed, until she was softly moaning.

  He drew her close and buried his face against her neck. His ragged breathing came out as tiny puffs in her ear. "Your touch is exquisite torture my dear. If I let you continue I fear the grand finale will happen much sooner than I wish it to."

  His honest words emboldened her to ask something that had bothered her for years. "Nash, do you think it's possible I could join you in the grand finale?"

  His head jerked up, and his mouth gaped open before it closed into a grim line. "You never experienced total fulfillment with Henry?"

  Now embarrassment did crash in. Hard. She bit her lip and shook her head. "No. He told me some women simply didn't have it in them."

  "Ah, my dear." He swept an arm under her and lifted her to his chest. First, he kissed her forehead, then her nose, her cheekbones, and finally her mouth. "You are not one of those women. Fire burns within you. All it needs is the proper stoking." And with that delicious promise, he strode to the settee and gently set her down. Looming over her, he gazed down at her with blazing eyes. "Lean back for me."

  Immediately, she did as he requested. He kneeled down and gingerly placed his hands on the insides of her thighs and slowly spread her legs. Her nerves hummed through her body, making it tingle everywhere as he lowered himself between her legs so all she could see was the top of his head. She clutched at the settee cushion and squeezed her eyes shut just as fingers gently parted her and his hot tongue licked slowly and gently between her folds.

  The pleasure stole her breath and what precious little was left of her senses. His hands came under her bottom, lifting and clutching her as he stroked with increasing speed. Within her, tension coiled and mounted until she thought she would shatter like glass against a wall. She clutched his hair, alternately pressing him harder against her, then struggling to pull him away when his tongue found the spot at the center of her core. The pleasure was painfully wonderful but she wanted him inside her now, filling her and taking her where she had always dreamed of going.

  With a gentle tug, she got him to stop and look at her.

  "Come to me," she whispered, surprised at the huskiness of her voice.

  He released her and raised himself over her with his hands splayed by her shoulders. His powerful thighs came between her legs, and he plunged deep within her in one swift motion. She gasped, lost to his hard flesh against her softness and the slide of his body in and out of hers.

  Together they found the rhythm that bound their bodies and soared high until they reached a peak that ripped a cry of need from her throat, answered by one final plunge from Nash and an explosion ins
ide of Julianna that clenched every muscle before releasing them all to a flood of warm and fiery sensation. Nash cried out and pulled out of her as he found his own release.

  Waves of ecstasy throbbed over her as he pulled her against his side. He was all that filled her world. His scent. The pattern of his breath. The beat of his heart. Her heart felt as if it was expanding with happiness, and the feeling froze her with fear, especially when he began to stroke her hair and whisper all the things he loved about her.

  "Julianna, you are the most wonderful woman I've ever met."

  Her heart lurched in response to his words. She didn't want to experience that sort of need or joy ever again.

  She had to go. She had to leave Nash before it was too late and she was lost to him and love was there.

  She shoved away and scrambled to her feet, wasting no time gathering her clothes. As she was tugging them on, she turned away from him, but she heard his movements as he stood. She didn't want him to touch her, come up behind her, or beg her to stay.

  "I have to go," she murmured, hoping to avoid him asking any questions. "Liza has never slept the night without me in the house."

  "I understand. Let me walk you home."

  The resignation in his voice was very apparent. She had never been more grateful to anyone than she was to him in this moment. She suspected he knew she was running from what had just occurred, but he wasn't going to comment or try to stop her. Tears pooled in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks to splatter against her wrinkled gown. Inhaling a deep breath to steady her voice, she said, "I'd rather go alone to have time to think." That at least was true. She had to contemplate if she was brave enough to tell him she could no longer tutor him to his face or if she would write him a letter like a coward.