Searching her face, he smiled. “Don’t be nervous. How long do you have? Can you stay until morning?”
It was like they were discussing dinner plans, not her ruination. “I have to be back well before morning. My father and I always have breakfast together. Earlier than most. At seven.”
He half-nodded. Intently holding her gaze, his large frame stepped toward her.
She braced herself for having her clothes ripped off right there in the corridor.
He gripped her gloved hand and tugging her close to his body, touched his bare hand to the back of her waist, guiding her through the open door of his bedchamber. He closed the door behind them with his heel and released her waist and hand, turning the key in the door. “Remove your shawl, bonnet, and gloves. I want to show you something.” He strode past, toward the other side of the room, his robe flowing around his muscled body.
She was genuinely surprised as to how everything was unfolding. Not at all what she imagined. Knowing how eager and hot-blooded he was, she rather thought he’d get straight to stripping her down to her silk stockings and shoving candies into her mouth.
She paused.
A massive hearth across from his mahogany four-poster bed had a cheerful fire blazing, warming the large bedchamber while casting shadows and light with the movement of its flames. Countless lit candles set in various silver candelabras were scattered around the room, whispering of a man who enjoyed being surrounded by light.
He paused before an easel that had a white canvas placed onto it. Set beside the easel was a small walnut table with several inlaid wooden boxes filled to the rim with oil paints in small glass bottles and a large jar of mineral spirits. Everything was angled into the far corner of the room, clearly planned.
He wagged a finger. “I pulled out all of my old paints and my easel from the attic. I checked the oils and they’re still good. I was hoping you could paint something for me.”
A breath escaped her at the unexpected request. She removed her shawl, her gloves and bonnet, and draped them all onto the bed in an organized manner, the idea of painting something for him making her feel more at ease.
Gathering her skirts from around her slippered feet, she walked toward him. She edged in beside him, grazing a hand across the large blank canvas. “What would you like me to paint?”
His husky features stilled, his skin visibly flushed. “Us naked. In an embrace.”
Her hand drifted away from the canvas. Why was she not surprised? “Before or after we…?”
He searched her face. “After. You can’t very well paint what you don’t know.” He shifted his jaw and edged his entire body closer.
Spiced ginger nipped the air, warning her of what was about to come.
Her face grew unbearably hot knowing exactly what he wanted. After some intricate prodding, Mrs. Langley had finally gotten around to telling her what really went on between men and women. And it only made her more apprehensive. Because it was very involved.
Quickly turning, Clementine faced the canvas, giving him her back in an attempt to remain as blank as that canvas. “I was finally told more about what happens between men and women. Aside from what we discussed.”
His large hand slid down the sleeve of her arm, shifting the material of her gown. He now lingered from behind, the heat of his body penetrating hers as he pressed himself closer.
She closed her eyes and swallowed, listening to the rush of her own pulse. She touched his hand, stilling it against her arm and gripped it tight. She was fine. She would be fine.
The warmth of his masculine lips softly touched the exposed skin of her neck. Gently. As if to assure her that she was still very much in control.
Her pulse hitched. She swayed as his lips delicately wandered across the curve of her exposed neck, prodding her into a secret world she didn’t expect.
His tongue slid across her exposed shoulder, nudging away the lace around the trim of her gown as both of his hands slid down and around her waist. He gripped and bundled the material of her gown while still sliding his tongue back and forth, delicately tracing and teasing her skin.
Her head rolled back as the heat of his mouth and tongue overtook her ability to think. She finally knew what it was like to turn all of his fire-ridden words into reality. It was strangely beautiful. Far more beautiful than she ever expected.
The tip of his tongue slowly probed and traced and teased as his hands slid down to her corseted waist. Gripping her sides from behind, he ground his hips into her backside. His lower half was already rigid. She could feel his erection pushing through his robe and into her gown.
He sucked on her throat hard, taking skin in between his teeth.
She gasped, an astounding sensation rippling down the length of her entire body. It was too much. Everything about him was too much. He made her want to kneel to not only his passions but her own. The ones she had always tried to bury in fear of them turning her into something she didn’t want to be.
He dragged and rubbed his lower half against her even more, his breaths fanning her throat as he sucked her throat harder. She felt his hand stiffly jerk his erection a few times, bumping her backside as he groaned against her skin. His hands trailed their way up her back, digging into the fabric as if he had every intention of shredding it with his palms. He edged back and quickly unpinned and unlaced the material of her gown, his fingers pulling and tugging and stretching the satin away from her body with an intensity and fever that made her stagger. He worked his way, down, down through the lacings.
Her chest rose and fell in an effort to breathe knowing he was undressing her as if she were a doll. Her eyes snapped open at the thought. The blank white canvas mocked her, telling her nothing of what was about to happen next or what she was or wasn’t supposed to feel. All she knew was what she had always known whenever around him: she was too overwhelmed. Wasn’t that exactly what passion did? Erase one’s ability to breathe and think until the person became nothing but an animal reacting to its environment?
Turning toward him, she dragged in several breaths in a desperate effort to ease the unbearable sensation of being overwhelmed. “I can’t breathe.”
His rugged features stilled with need. “You’re not the only one.”
That didn’t lessen her panic. “I need to get used to this. Can we take this slower?”
His chest rose and fell. His erection protruded against the velvet fabric of his robe, angling toward her. He raked his hair back and said hoarsely, “Go sit on the bed and give me a moment.”
Right. Moving around him and that erection that was still nudging his robe outward, she hurried to the bed, knowing her legs weren’t going to hold her up for much longer. She quickly seated herself on the side of its edge, feeling the back of her dress flop open. She cringed and yanked up the sleeves of her gown that was slipping off her shoulder. “Mrs. Langley told me a gentleman always starts with kissing a lady on the lips. But you didn’t. You went to undressing me. Is that normal?”
He winced and puffed out a breath. “Nothing about this situation is normal.” He swiped his face and crossed the room, his bare feet peering out from beneath his long robe. Lingering for a moment, he sat beside her, causing the mattress to tilt her toward him. His eyes trailed down to her breasts and stared. Snapping his gaze back to her face, he said, “Your décolletage is barely above your nipples. It’s making it difficult for me to think.”
She nervously folded her hands. “It was one of the few evening gowns I have that display more. I wore it because I knew it would please you.”
A tremor touched his lips. “What I said to you earlier was stupid. You’re beautiful no matter what you wear.”
A shiver of awareness traced its way down her spine. There was no turning away from this or him now. She was here. This was a moment she was taking for herself knowing Persia still waited. Nasser had already sent her a missive to call on him. “No babe.”
“I told you I would see to that. Upon my word.”
>
She nodded and tried to focus, knowing that they only had a few hours. She dug her fingers into the silk of her gown in an attempt to calm her over-stimulated senses. “I think I’m ready.”
He scooted closer, his large shoulder grazing hers. “Are you asking me to start?”
Heat flowed to the side of the shoulder he was touching and the tantalizing mixture of his hair tonic and soap floated toward her. She turned her head and glanced up at him, trying not to panic. “Mrs. Langley told me there would be blood. Copious and copious amounts of blood. No matter what we did.”
He rumbled out a laugh, his eyes brightening. “Mrs. Langley exaggerates. Or every woman would be dead.”
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I don’t know why I listen to that woman,” she muttered. “Her husband has been dead for twenty years. She probably forgot everything.”
“Probably.” His grin faded into a faint smile before altogether stilling into a level of intense seriousness. He tucked the length of his freed hair behind his ears. “How about we keep the first few minutes between us simple. While I still have control over myself and this situation. How about we just…” He heatedly glanced down at her, his shaven face lingering above hers. “Kiss.”
The heat of those smoldering brown eyes could have convinced her to do anything.
She half-nodded, silently affirming she was more than ready.
Nothing mattered in that moment. All that mattered was that she was ready and willing to give herself a breath of what they might have shared had she been born under a different star. A star that had always warned her of dangerous things to come.
Her rose water perfume tinged the air of every breath he took. It was too much.
He edged in closer. Slow. Very slow. So as not to startle her.
She searched his face, let out a shaky breath, and closed her eyes, her features stilling with a trust he’d only dreamed of. Tilting her chin upward, she puckered her full lips out like a fish in desperate need of water.
It was adorable. He skimmed his fingers around her shoulder, wanting so desperately to remember this moment. He lowered his head to hers, trying to steady his breathing and grazed his lips against hers.
Everything tipped. Everything pulsed. And then everything went perfectly still.
Her lips stayed stiffly puckered but her body tilted toward him, ready and willing.
He possessively dragged his arms around her, yanking her softness closer and felt her loosened gown fall over his hands. Closing his eyes, he parted her lips with his own, holding her so tightly against his rigid body, he felt like he’d break. His tongue slipped into her mouth and erotically grazed her tongue and teeth. Wanting all of it, he heatedly deepened the kiss, unable to go slow and tipped her back in his arms.
She grabbed him by the face with both hands, yanking herself away.
His eyes snapped open, as his chest heaved in disbelief that it was already over.
She stared up at him, her breaths uneven. “That wasn’t a kiss.”
He coughed out a startled laugh. “What do you mean, it wasn’t a—”
“It wasn’t a kiss,” she repeated, clearly abashed. “Are you saying people kiss like this?”
And she thought his candy was strong? Ha. “I can’t speak for all people, but any man who doesn’t use his tongue to kiss a woman ought to be hanged.” His fingers dug into the stiffness of her corset as he attempted to drag her back toward himself. “I went fast. I can go slower if you want.”
Her hand popped up between them as she pressed it against his forehead to keep him from leaning in. “Your tongue is not going in my mouth again. That was downright animalistic.”
He released her in exasperation. “Clementine, we haven’t even gotten to the animalistic part.” Jesus. Something told him this night was going to be a complete disaster. And why wouldn’t it be? He was asking a ‘non-affectionate’ virgin who didn’t want to be a mother to have sex with him. Not really the most brilliant of plans. He swiped his mouth, trying to control the erratic beat of his heart. “Would you rather we not do this? Because your hand pushing my forehead away isn’t really much of a compliment.”
She winced and flopped her hand down to her side. “I’m sorry. I am willing. I just…it felt like my heart was about to get pushed out of my chest.”
He quirked a brow. “My tongue wasn’t that far down your throat.”
She puckered her lips. “What were you trying to do with your tongue? Clean my teeth?”
He choked on a laugh. “No, I wasn’t— That’s how we’re supposed to kiss. Are you telling me you didn’t enjoy it?”
Her flush spread down toward the rounds of her breasts. “No. It wasn’t that, I…I guess I imagined kisses to be quick, is all. Like a butterfly landing and taking off again.”
This woman was too much. “I’m not a street vendor waiting to move on to the next person, dearest.” He leaned in. “We don’t have to kiss if you don’t want to. I’m fine with that. Would you rather I get to undressing you instead?”
She hesitated and then nodded. “Did you need me to stand?”
Damn. He honestly didn’t know what to make of her or this. She was like a doll asking to be positioned because it wasn’t capable of positioning itself. He searched her face. “Why did you really come to me?” he asked, trying to understand. “Why are you doing this? Why are you giving yourself to me only to leave me?”
She lowered her gaze and after a long moment whispered back, “Because I always wanted to know what it would be like to be yours.”
His breath hitched. “But you are mine.”
She closed her eyes. “Please don’t do this. I don’t expect you to understand.”
Which meant she didn’t want him to understand.
But maybe…
He slowly splayed his fingers across the cool, smooth fabric of her evening gown, his heart pounding. He swallowed against the tightness working his throat, sensing that the possibility of them came down to this in her eyes. If he could breathe enough fire across that cool façade of ice, maybe she’d melt and stay. Maybe. “I want you to look at me.”
Her eyes opened, revealing blue eyes that were the only thing to ever express what brewed within her thoughts and heart.
“Tonight we belong to each other. And don’t you ever forget that.” His fingers moved into her black, pinned, silken tresses. He removed the pins randomly tucked in her hair, and tossed them one by one, letting them tinker to the floor. Her long, thick bundled hair eventually fell down past her corseted waist and full gown.
Her soulful, blue eyes continued to quietly watch him.
Removing the last of the pins, he asked, “What are you thinking?”
“I’m surprised that you started with my hair.”
He smirked. “Leave off. I’m trying to surprise us both.”
“I’m not complaining,” she softly chided.
God, was she ever darling. He honestly didn’t know how he was going to let her go after their night. After waiting years. How was he going to keep his promise of letting her go given how long he’d wanted her and this? His chest tightened.
When there were no more pins to remove, he skimmed his hands down the length of those soft, smooth tresses, letting it frame her flushed oval face. A breath escaped him. This is what he would always remember about her. This. Not her nudity he had yet to see and had always imagined at stupid seventeen, but this. Her hair down around her face making her look like a young woman about to run into the fields free. Free. Very much like she wanted to be. All that was missing was her ability to laugh and smile.
It was the only thing about her he would ever change.
He drew in a ragged breath and edged it out as he dragged his hands up the sleeves of her arms in an effort to his keep himself from altogether ripping the fabric. It was agonizing and painful to keep his desire at a standstill. Because he wanted to rip into her and consume all of her in one tongue-burning swallow. Then do it again and again until
it was time for her to go.
But one didn’t rip into spun sugar. Not unless one wanted a mess on their hands.
Her bare hand hesitantly touched his knee. “You don’t have to go slow anymore,” she informed him.
That single touch and those words sent a searing heat right to the core. His cock hardened beneath his robe. “Clementine,” he rasped, fighting his need, his want. “I’m going to try not to scare you. All right?”
She half-nodded, her eyes never once leaving his.
The level of trust she was holding out made his very soul stagger.
His hands rounded toward the back of her slim shoulders, his fingers hooking into her open gown. He dragged the fabric away from her shoulders and slipped her pale arms from out of the bell sleeves, exposing an ivory chemise and a rose-colored corset that showcased the fullness of pushed up, tightly constrained breasts that made him let out a breath. “Damn.”
She stilled, her chest visibly rising and falling. “Is something wrong?”
He didn’t know how the hell he was going to take this slow. “The fact that you’re bloody leaving me is wrong.” He lowered his head and his lips to the rounds of those breasts and dragged his mouth against their warmth and softness, the faint scent of soap making him close his eyes and groan in disbelief. She was so damn soft and perfect. Everything he imagined and more. His hands curved around the still hidden fullness of her breasts as he opened his eyes. He slid his rigid tongue down her throat and shoulder and made his way down the length of her body, yanking her gown down past her waist hard. “I need you to get up.”
She slid off the bed and stood, letting the weight of the gown fall to the floor until she stood only in her chemise, corset, stockings, and slippers.
Night of Pleasure Page 12
