Captive of Sin

by Anna Campbell

  “Why do you think I’m doing it?” She shook her head so her hair slid around her in dark gold splendor.

  “Your purpose is…seduction.”

  He stumbled over the last word like a prim spinster. Decadent images of that silky hair flowing about him as he pounded into her body fired his brain.

  “You say you’re impervious to the lure of the flesh.”

  “I never said that.”

  “Then what’s stopping you?” She raised one hand and tugged at the ribbon holding her plunging neckline closed.

  “Don’t damn well do that.” He should walk out the door right now.

  “Why?”

  He couldn’t immediately think of an answer. All he could think of was how he would hurt her with his vile clumsiness if this scene reached the end she clearly wanted.

  Why in Hades didn’t she avoid him after that rough coupling? What was wrong with the chit?

  His lips parted on a groan as her bodice gaped to reveal the valley between her breasts. He forced himself to concentrate on her face instead of her bosom. His heart slammed to a stop. The silent determination in her eyes shook him.

  If he intended to retain a shred of honor, he needed to get out of here. Now. She didn’t know what she invited. She couldn’t.

  “I’ll wait outside while you dress.”

  “Coward,” she said softly but distinctly.

  “Charis, it’s for the best.” He tried to remember why he couldn’t just jump on her and take what he wanted. His mind was a black, impenetrable jungle.

  “Is the Hero of Rangapindhi running for cover?”

  “I’m no hero,” he snarled, cut to the quick. He abhorred the name the press bestowed on him. He turned to escape, unable any longer to bear the sight of what he wanted most in the world. Displayed for his delectation like a banquet. As unreachable as the stars. “I’ll order breakfast.”

  He waited for argument, plea, protest. But she was silent. Clearly, she’d recognized her quest to seduce her oaf of a husband was futile.

  He told himself that what trickled through his veins like acid was relief. She must at last see he was no use to her. It was tragic but irrefutable.

  He reached for the door. Through unfocused eyes, he noticed his hand was unsteady.

  There was a sudden flurry of footsteps behind him. Then a blinding, exquisite moment when she hurled herself, every lovely inch, against his back.

  The shock stopped his breath. His heart hitched, then crashed against his ribs. Her heat made him dizzy. The softness of her breasts and belly pressed into him. Her arms snaked around his waist.

  “Don’t go,” she said in a broken voice.

  She leaned her cheek upon his back. The fragrances of carnations and warm female flesh filled his senses like smoke. He closed his eyes and groaned. Swearing under his breath, he banged his head on the door. The sharp pain did nothing to clear his mind.

  His skin prickled at the contact, but sexual hunger drowned out his screaming demons. He could touch her now, all right. But in this state, he wasn’t safe with any woman, let alone this exquisite girl.

  He sucked in more air. Speech was torture when every sense concentrated on Charis. “Please step away.”

  Her grip around his waist tightened, and he felt desperation in the clawing fingers. She strained so close, he felt her every breath. And her trembling. “You’ll leave.”

  “I must.” His voice cracked, and he clutched the doorknob so hard, his hand spasmed. “For God’s sake, Charis, do as I ask.”

  For a long moment, she didn’t budge. Then, with tangible reluctance, she slid her arms away and straightened.

  His animal hunger spiked, insisted he seize her, toss her on her back. Grinding his teeth, he beat back the raging demands.

  He released the doorknob. His hand ached with stiffness. Slowly, against his will, he turned to face her.

  She stood a couple of feet away. Her chest heaved as she fought for breath. He’d been terrified he’d made her cry. But for all her palpable, quaking misery, she remained dry-eyed. In a defiant gesture he recognized, she lifted her chin as if she stared down death itself.

  Swiftly, she tugged the nightdress over her head and flung it into the corner.

  “Damn you, Charis,” he breathed, stepping toward her before he recalled he couldn’t touch her. “Don’t do this.”

  Unclothed, she was…heavenly. Slender neck, straight shoulders, long graceful arms, high breasts with whorled pink crests. Flat belly punctuated by the sweet hollow of her navel.

  Last, helplessly, his gaze focused on the delta between her legs. Blazing arousal flared. He swallowed and forced himself to breathe. He drank in the sight of her as he’d drink from an oasis after crossing a desert.

  The desert still extended ahead.

  Dry. Waterless. Barren. Deadly.

  She glanced down at his trousers, then unflinchingly lifted her eyes. “You want me. I know it.” Her voice broke.

  He strove to deny his desire. But his throat closed and wouldn’t permit that ultimate heresy.

  His heart pumped out an inexorable rhythm. Two words. Over and over. Take her. Take her. Take her.

  “Do I…do I please you?”

  He fought to frame the lie, to tell her she meant nothing to him, to set her free.

  Vibrating with tension, she stood before him. She stared back from steady hazel eyes, more brown than green. But her lips were soft with a vulnerability that mangled his gut.

  He opened his mouth to speak.

  She didn’t flinch. Nor did her gaze waver.

  She must guess what he meant to say.

  Her mouth trembled. If he hadn’t watched so closely, he’d have missed the tiny tensing of her lips. It was the reaction of someone braced for the killing blow, for pain past endurance.

  He knew that feeling. Just so had he faced down his jailers in Rangapindhi.

  That hint of vulnerability broke him.

  Three strides, and he was at her side. He swung her high in his arms. Blood thundered in his ears. Two more strides, and he reached the bed. Without letting her go, he pushed her back onto the crumpled sheets.

  Gideon was pure animal. Savage. Hungry. Desperate.

  He knelt between her legs, his cock straining. Roughly, he brushed away the thick dark blond hair cascading across her bare breasts. The demons shrieked for him to stop, but roaring physical need trapped them behind a wall of glass.

  He grabbed her hips with his gloved hands and pressed hard, openmouthed kisses across the white plain of her belly. She tasted like hot musky honey.

  He suckled on her nipple, pressing it against his tongue, drawing the flavor deep into his mouth. She cried out and bucked.

  He didn’t linger. This moment poised on a knife edge. His lips closed on her other nipple, biting until she writhed. She lifted her hands to his shoulders.

  Dear God, if she pushed him away, what would he do?

  But her fingers dug into his damp shirt, clenching and unclenching in time with the rhythm of his mouth on her breast.

  He ripped his trousers open. The pounding in his head was so loud, he hardly heard the material shredding.

  With ruthless hands, he angled her hips up and plunged into her.

  Heat.

  Pressure.

  One fragile, glowing moment that might have been peace.

  Stray details overwhelmed starved senses. Her scent. The soft rattle of her breathing. The way she quivered under him.

  He rose to look at her. Her eyes were closed, and her face was stark with tension. Damn it, he must be hurting her. Principle insisted he stop, withdraw, leave her be.

  He began to pull out. Meaning to end this travesty. But the sensation of his tumescent flesh sliding free of her sleek passage nearly blew the top of his head off. Pleasure so intense it edged on pain incinerated him in a white-hot blast.

  His scruples dissolved to ash. His heart tolled a despairing note as he thrust back inside her. Hard. Demanding. Pitiless.r />
  She closed around him with what felt like welcome. This time he paused, luxuriating in the tightness. He shifted. Edged deeper.

  Charis moaned, a low, guttural sound that resonated in his gut. The hands on his shoulders slid down to curl around his straining back. She tilted her hips higher.

  Her eyes opened. The pupils were dilated, and the irises were rich gold. The skin on her face stretched tight. She tipped her head back, her thick lashes fluttered down, and she arched with a long, low, keening sound.

  What frail restraints he’d imposed snapped. There was just the hot clasp of her body and his thundering need.

  He changed the angle of penetration. Her body moved with him. He withdrew and thrust again. He needed the rhythm more than he needed breath.

  Faster.

  Harder.

  The endless rocking of his hips against hers. The slide of his flesh into her slender body. The creak of the bed. The rustle of the sheets. The catch of her breath.

  His body tensed. The pace became wilder.

  His release built, knotting his spine, twisting his gut, tightening his balls to agony.

  He lifted his head, and his throat clenched on a shout. Anguish. Shame. Possession.

  Freedom.

  One last thrust. His world ignited into fire.

  He flooded her with his agony and his loss and his anger. His hips jerked as the crisis flung him into eternity.

  For a long time, Gideon’s mind closed down to anything but the volcanic release.

  He slumped over her, gasping for breath. There was only his quivering body, the gallop of his heart, the warm embrace of darkness.

  He was utterly exhausted. Weary to the point of torpor.

  Vaguely, he heard her make a sound of discomfort.

  He tried to shut it from his mind. He belonged in this darkness. He wanted to stay here.

  He’d acted like a beast.

  The unwelcome knowledge nibbled at the blanketing stillness.

  Oh, merciful God, what have I done?

  With a groan of utter desolation, he pulled free and rolled onto his back. If he could trust his legs to carry him, he’d walk out.

  He stared at the ceiling, waiting for his breath to steady and his heartbeat to resume its usual rate. Waiting for the world to crash in on him.

  In spite of his howling conscience, his physical self relished what he’d done. The sheer power of the experience eclipsed every previous sexual encounter the way the sun outshone a candle.

  He stirred, turned his head to look at Charis. The movement cost the last of his depleted strength. She’d drained him to the lees.

  “Are you all right?” he asked gruffly.

  She was in profile. She licked her lips. The innocent movement sent a smoldering bolt to his loins. Suddenly, he wasn’t quite as exhausted as he had been.

  She made no attempt to cover her nakedness. Knowing she lay bare beside him piqued his desire. He, on the other hand, hadn’t had the finesse to do more than tear his trousers open and have at her.

  “Perfectly, thank you.”

  Gideon frowned. Her polite, detached tone worried him.

  Perhaps he really had hurt her. He leaned up on one elbow to see into her face. “I fell on you like a hungry dog on a bone.”

  She stared upward. He wondered what her determinedly neutral expression concealed. Devastation? Fury? Pain? Oh, hell, don’t let him have done her injury. He’d been passionately unrestrained, and until two nights ago, she’d been a virgin.

  She glanced at him out the corner of her eye. “You’re not shaking. You’re not sick. You’re not sweating.”

  He frowned. “I’m worried about you. Forget about me.”

  “You forgot about you.”

  She sat up, drawing her knees up. The girlish grace of the movement captured his attention, stirred his interest. Then he realized what she’d said.

  “Was that an experiment?” Resentment stirred under his concern. “You’ve got a bloody cheek.”

  She bent so her thick hair fell forward, hiding her expression. “I couldn’t see how else to test if what I guessed was true.”

  He scowled at her. “And got a right royal fucking in return.”

  She jerked her head up and stared at him. He sucked in a shuddering breath, ignoring the shock on her face. His tone bit. “I hope you’re pleased with yourself, madam.”

  With a movement that shot another jolt of arousal through him, she shook back her untidy tumble of hair. A smile curved her lush pink lips. Lips which to his shame he hadn’t kissed, even as he’d slammed into her like a hammer.

  “Of course I’m pleased with myself. I drove my husband wild with desire.”

  He jackknifed onto his knees. If the habit of keeping his hands to himself weren’t so ingrained, he’d shake her until her teeth rattled. “What the devil…”

  Her smile faded. “Gideon, you touched me.”

  “Blast you, Charis, I did more than touch you. You deserve better.”

  She grabbed his arm. “I don’t care what I deserve. I want you. However I can get you.” The smile reappeared. “And it was exciting.”

  “Exciting?” He had trouble speaking. He felt like he’d entered a new universe, where nothing from the old one made sense.

  “Of course it was exciting,” she said urgently. “You looked as if you’d die unless you touched me. You’ll do better next time.”

  “Are you sure there will be a next time?”

  “I’ve discovered your weakness.” Satisfaction warmed her voice. “When I’m naked, you’re powerless.”

  The problem was the witch was right. Even now his cock stirred with interest.

  She still regarded him with that faint enigmatic smile. “To think I ever doubted you wanted me.”

  Foolish woman. He gave an unamused laugh. “I always want you. Damn it, Charis, I’m in love with you.”

  Seventeen

  Aghast, Gideon stiffened. Bloody, bloody, bloody hell. Why in the name of all that was holy did I say that? He’d give his left arm to take back the words. But it was too late.

  Violently, he tugged away from Charis and surged to his feet. He stalked across to scoop the discarded nightdress from the floor. With an angry gesture, he tossed it across the end of the bed.

  He should have kept his blasted mouth shut. But the wild, uncontrolled sex had broken some barrier within him. The declaration he’d fought back for so long had surged up unstoppable as a king tide.

  She started as if emerging from a daze. “You love me,” she whispered.

  She stared at him with huge, shining eyes. Her lips parted. She looked so happy, he couldn’t bear it. Clearly the damage was done, and there was no point in telling her he’d lied. Although it would be better for both of them if she believed he had.

  The harsh facts that put a life with her completely out of reach hadn’t changed, for all that every cell of his body ached with love for her. One bout of desperate passion didn’t change the cruel reality of his existence. He wasn’t a normal man. He’d never be a normal man. And if she pledged herself to him now, one day she’d regret that commitment.

  He couldn’t bear to contemplate her love turning to hatred and disgust when she realized just what she’d sacrificed by walling herself away with her half-insane wreck of a husband. Her best chance of happiness was to establish a future far away from Gideon and his demons. But he could see what he’d just said made it less likely than ever that he’d convince her of that incontrovertible truth anytime soon.

  Again, he cursed the impetuous declaration that forever changed the landscape between him and his beautiful, misguided wife.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said with a carelessness that even in his own ears sounded false.

  A tiny frown line appeared between her brows. “Oh, Gideon.” She spoke his name with such deep compassion, he tensed with fuming resentment. He couldn’t endure her pity.

  So he didn’t have to look at her, glowing, irresistible, he struggle
d to concentrate on doing up his trousers. His gloved hands shook so much that he fumbled hopelessly with the fastenings. It was like being in the grip of his affliction, except he trembled now not because he’d touched her but because he so badly wanted to.

  During those dazzling moments in her arms, his world had come right. He could offer her a lifetime of misery while she was his only hope of happiness. That was his eternal burden. He couldn’t make her share it.

  “I’ll ring for hot water,” he said with a studied neutrality that cost him more than he wanted to admit. At last he managed to close his trousers. “You’ll want to wash.”

  “That’s it?” He still wasn’t looking at her, but he heard the irritation in her voice. “You take me to bed. You tell me you love me. Then we just have breakfast as though nothing’s happened?”

  He glanced up and tried not to notice how very…naked she was. “Charis, I wish you’d put on your nightdress.”

  Her lips firmed with impatience. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  He sighed and ran his gloved hand through his hair. “Nothing should have happened.”

  “Why?”

  “Will you put on the confounded nightdress?” he demanded in desperation.

  She stretched out one slender arm, hooked up the silk garment, and slid it over her tousled head. “There. Is that better?”

  “Not really.” He breathed hard through his nostrils and fisted his hands at his sides. He burned to take her again. Her defiance only fed his incessant craving. He was an insatiable satyr. If the girl had any sense, she’d run a thousand miles to get away from him.

  “I don’t see why this is a problem,” she said stubbornly. “You love me. I love you.”

  “You don’t love me,” he bit out.

  She rolled her eyes. The sudden reversion to sulky schoolgirl would have summoned a smile if he didn’t feel like she flayed his soul.

  “No, of course I don’t,” she said sarcastically. “I’m a stupid sparrow of a female with hardly brains to feed myself. And you’re so terrifically unworthy. The contemptible fellow dragged weeping out of a pit in India when any other man would have taken the trifles you’d endured in his stride.”