His colleague’s eyes crinkled along with a trumpet of laughter. “I figure better than two hundred pounds of dynamite, so there’s sure to be another two drops somewhere else in town.” Even with more explosives left to discover, Rafe’s triumphant smile remained undiminished. “We still have to hook ’em and reel ’em in, but it’s confirmed. They’ve taken the bait.”
Zeno failed to answer, due to a sudden and crushing blast of remorse. In his mind’s eye, he pictured Cassie standing feet away from a wagonload of explosives. How could he have put her in such danger? Mortified by his own thoughtlessness, he vowed never to put her in harm’s way again, no matter how benign or elementary the assignment might seem. How brave and beautiful she’d been all evening! She could bring a man to his knees for just a taste of her.
Zeno grinned. Ma wee toughie.
Chapter Fourteen
At the first stroke of the wall clock, a thousand butterflies took flight in Cassie’s stomach. Nine strikes later, she held her breath. Any moment now Zeno would walk across their secret threshold and enter her world.
But not yet.
At half past, her heart began to dance an odd beat. He must have been delayed. Certainly in his line of endeavor there were risks and perils aplenty.
But why tonight?
An hour later, she paced a loop from the stairwell through the studio, glaring each time she passed the ridiculous, annoying … door.
By eleven thirty she gave up and settled down with a book. After reading the same paragraph twenty times over with little or no comprehension, she set the tome aside, turned out the lights, and climbed the stairs to bed.
She shrugged off her clothes.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, she ran a hand over the smooth cherry finish of the sleigh bed’s curved footboard. A brand-new bed purchased for her brand-new life. The one she planned on initiating this very night with Mr. Zeno Kennedy.
Alarming images of Zeno crowded her thoughts. She pulled on a sleeveless cotton knit undershirt and silk pajama pants—an old pair of her brother’s. Slipping under covers, she folded a pillow under her head and inhaled the scents of lilac and lavender. In anticipation of her nuit d’amour, Cécile had sprinkled toilet water on the pillows. Sweet girl.
Having worked herself up into a state, she took a deep breath and exhaled. Her body yearned for him—for this night of lovemaking. She closed her eyes, and the disturbing picture returned. Zeno lay unconscious in some back alleyway in the Docklands, injured and alone. She turned over and tried not to think of it.
On the edge of a dream, she awoke to the beautiful strains of a tenor aria. “Donna non vidi mai, simile a questa!” Cassie opened an eye. “A dirle: ‘io t’amo’ …” She bolted upright. Bedcovers tossed off, she started downstairs and halted midway. Zeno stood at the bottom of the staircase in shirtsleeves and neatly pressed trousers holding a bottle of champagne. His hair looked damp. He must have returned home, taken a quick bath, shaved, and changed. The very sight of him made her smile.
In a simple, pure tenor voice, he intoned, “A nuova vita l’alma mia si desta.”
Every particle in her body tingled with desire. She wanted to run into his arms but descended one step at a time. As the aria filled the room, she smiled. He was making up the words, some in Italian, some in English, sung softly, beseechingly. “I have never seen a woman such as this one! My soul awakens to a new life.”
She landed on the last tread and he handed her a dusty bottle of vintage Louis Roederer Cristal. “When a lover is late for a tryst—” She tilted her head to read the card attached to the bottle. Drink me.
“He should always prepare a love song and arrive bearing gifts.” She leaned across the banister to offer a kiss, which he readily accepted.
A glimpse at him revealed those clear blue orbs dancing with mischief and something more intense. Her lower belly did that clenching, trembling thing again.
“Mrs. Woolsley called the locksmith out.” Zeno slipped a brass key tied to a ribbon around her wrist. He kissed her mouth again, with hunger. The sweet breath of his exhale moved across her jaw as he ran a trail of caresses down her throat.
Cassie sighed softy against his temple. “Dear lady.”
“Mm-mm, I must add an extra bit to her pay packet.” A fire kindled inside her as his tongue licked the hollow at the base of her throat.
THOUGH IT PAINED him to do it, Zeno stepped away. Cassie’s hair hung loose in shiny waves to the middle of her back. Instead of a dazzling, sophisticated young woman, a wicked, fresh-faced schoolgirl returned a ravaging gaze of her own. At least he hoped he read that right.
Charming even in sleeping attire, his barefoot goddess wore silk pajama bottoms in a paisley print. But it was the knit undershirt that raised an erection. With the top buttons provocatively undone, the peaked tips of her curvaceous breasts taunted him from under the thin, transparent material. His prick strained against the buttons of his trousers even as he resisted the urge to tumble her to the floor.
“You … I …” He stumbled. “You never cease to beguile me, Cassandra.”
She leaned close and sighed against his ear. “Your serenade sounded like Puccini.”
He turned and her lips brushed over his cheek and mouth. “Indeed, the aria is haunting but I forgot the lyrics and had to toss in a bit of Catullus.”
Two champagne flutes sat on a side table near the French chaise. He took her by the hand and led her into the salon, where he poked a few dying coals to life in the fireplace and lit a lamp, turning the wick low.
“You are an admirable tenor, sir.”
“Barely tolerable.” A copy of Henry James’s The Portrait of a Lady and another book lay facedown on the sofa. “After my football injury, I joined the choir at St. John’s.”
He tilted his head to read the spine. “The Mayor of Casterbridge.” He flipped through a few pages of the book as he reclined onto the studio couch. “Thomas Hardy. Knotty bedtime reading. Did you enjoy Far from the Madding Crowd?”
“Very much so, but I am a snob and a progressive when it comes to my reading list. And what of yours?”
He laughed, just thinking about how indulgent he had become in his reading habits. “I’m afraid I haven’t been able to bring myself to read a dark, depressing piece of literature since university. Shakespeare, of course, and always poetry, but I’ve stayed safely away from modern novels except for adventure.”
She raised an eyebrow. “No excuses. You must confess, sir.”
“Treasure Island.” He readily avowed his sins. “I can’t help but want to escape of late. Too much thinking on the job. I wish to be spirited away on a sailing ship, or tramping across some vast African savannah.”
“Perhaps a tumble down the rabbit hole?” She smiled with her eyes. This evening those silver orbs were the color of a winter sky, wild and stormy. They teased and then dared him to come and play. Another rush of acute lust surged through his body. He resisted the urge to pull those silk pajama bottoms off.
His grip landed on the neck of the champagne bottle. Before Cassie let go, she read the card again. “I shall attempt to unleash this missile without destroying your enchanting boudoir, madam.”
While he untwisted wire, she joined him on the chaise, tucking long, slender legs under her. She nestled comfortably against his shoulder and her simple, honest affection gave him a moment’s pause.
“I have a question.” Bubbles rushed to the surface of the bottle as he nudged the cork. “How long has it been for you, Cassie?”
She pressed her lips together even as the ends turned up. He waited for the dimple on her left cheek to come out. Ah yes, there it was.
With a pop, the blasted cork hit the ceiling. Cassie grabbed both stems as he directed the frothing, golden liquid into the flutes.
She dipped a finger into the sparkling wine and wet her lips. “Over two years. And you?”
He eyed a wet, plump lower lip before slowly lifting his gaze to meet hers. “You are a wick
ed tease, Cassandra.”
“How long, Zeno?”
“Perhaps, not quite as long.” He contemplated the open, honest beauty of her. “As a man, I have access to—”
“Relief, as needed?”
He gulped some bubbly. “There was an involvement with a woman some time ago. She was killed. I am not sure what you have heard of the matter.”
Was there a dash of irony mixed with sympathy in that roll of her eyes? “Margaret Fayette took great pains at the ball to inform me about a mistress—an actress.” She swept the palm of her hand across his cheek.
He took hold of her wrist and kissed the tender pulse point. “And you, Cassie, have suffered a loss as well.”
“We both lost our respective partners, within a few months of each other.” She tipped her head. “I wonder … have you, perhaps, someone new?” He noted how carefully she watched his reaction.
“As a matter of fact,” his gaze never shifted, “there is a fascinating young widow—an extraordinary artist, with the most ravishing …”
He set down his glass and began undoing her buttons, but gave it up and pushed his hands beneath the soft undershirt. His fingers brushed nipples into harder peaks. Her eyelids fluttered as he nibbled along her jawline. He listened with delight, in between soft moans, to her sweet attempts at conversation.
He pressed his lips lightly against her mouth. “One thing more.” He eased back, reaching for his glass and a gulp. “We will have intercourse at least two times.” A wide grin spread slowly across his face. “Because, Cassie …”
“Because?” The light in her eyes matched the sparkling bubbles of the wine.
“I don’t believe I will last more than thirty seconds the first round.”
A glorious flush of golden pink colored her cheeks and chest.
“I insist you give me a second chance to redeem myself.” He then splashed, not poured, another glass for each of them, and relaxed onto the soft quilted upholstery of the chaise. “Here’s to yer pleasure, lass.” He reached out and pulled her across his chest, splashing champagne on them both. He kissed the hair at her temples, the arch of her brow, and the tip of her nose. “I look forward to discovering what pleases you most.”
Zeno licked her lower lip, and plunged his tongue deep inside her mouth. A private metaphor that perfectly described the exploration he wished to undertake farther down, past her navel and curls. He moved his hand to her belly, and her womb contracted from desire.
Still holding on to a half-filled flute, she pushed off his chest to finish the champagne with one long swallow.
“Pitiful waste of a grand old vintage—swilling it down like a drunken sailor.” Zeno drained his glass, snatched her empty flute away and set both on the floor.
In one swift move, Cassie pulled the thin cotton undershirt over her head. Blood surged into his penis. She sat up straight for a moment, breasts thrust forward, proudly taunting him.
Near to bursting with arousal, he gazed at tips a dusty shade of rose, erect, and waiting for him.
“Touch me,” she urged in a throaty whisper. He cupped the supple weight of each breast in his hands and lifted. Using fingers and thumbs, he rolled nipples and pinched just hard enough to coax a deeper moan from her throat. “Come closer.”
She leaned over his torso and offered a breast just above his lips. With his tongue, he circled and teased before he suckled and nipped the delicate pink. His fingertips tantalized a nipple as his tongue laved, trading off one for the other.
Between sighs and moans she managed a whisper. “Your turn.”
She righted herself astride his upper thighs and took her time to undress him. Removing his braces, Cassie slowly unbuttoned his pants. The smallest brush of a fingernail caused a deep, husky groan.
Her silver eyes darkened into a smoldering burn. “May I hold you in my hands?”
Amused, aroused, nearly mad for her, he placed both hands behind his head and studied her slightly swollen lips. “You may.”
Delicate fingers edged their way past the tails of his shirt. He was transfixed with lust for this half-naked goddess as she rode his hips and explored the length and circumference of his erection.
He gritted his teeth at the sheer torture of such pleasure. She stroked him from top to bottom, sliding along the hard length with both hands, then drawing his shaft out, where she could examine the beast uncovered. He watched her eyes light up in appreciation and knew his own climax hung by a breath.
“May I kiss it?”
Damn the vixen. He was on the brink and she could well drive him over the edge. He exhaled a breath. “Very carefully.”
She trailed soft kisses along his hard shaft as he sucked air through his teeth. Zeno willed himself to think about a jump into an ice-cold firth in his homeland.
“Ah, ah, ah.” He took her hands in his and redirected her attention to the last button of his shirt. She pushed the fabric off his shoulders and ran her fingers over the muscles of his torso. She dipped a finger in champagne and circled his nipples before she sucked and nipped. The flat of his abdomen rippled and his speech growled from a place far down in his throat. “Where on earth—?”
“I read it in a naughty French novel.” She tugged at his chest hair a bit nervously.
“The lady’s reading list expands.” Zeno quirked a brow. “I did not hear you ask, ‘May I divert myself with the hair on your chest, sir?’”
“Might I, then?” Her eyes flashed with kittenish mischief.
“For every pull, you owe me a kiss, Cassandra Olivia. I suggest you get over here and do your duty.” She landed on his chest, and moaned as he turned her under him, pushing her legs open with a knee. He yanked the drawstring of her pajamas, and moved his hands down along her belly and lower to her mound of curls. His fingers delved deep into warm, moist folds.
Lifting her up by the buttocks, he slipped off the pajama bottoms and laid her back, nude against the rise of the chaise. Enraptured by her beauty, Zeno took a moment to admire the languid young goddess reclined across the divan.
“You are exquisite, Cassandra.” His fingers dug into the cheeks of her buttocks. He lifted her to meet his stiff, jerking shaft. Scrapping hard, he ached for release. He paused at her entrance.
He would take her like this, first.
Stroking the head of his prick between silken folds, he eased inside her sheath. Good God, they fit perfectly. Unable to stop himself, Zeno thrust into her like an animal. He held her knees apart and pumped harder, deeper. He drove in again and again until he lost all control. He could die inside her.
A surge of pure ecstasy ripped through his being. His heart stopped, momentarily, from the strength of his release. Seed spilled from his body as a second wave of pleasure enveloped him. The accompanying growl came from deep in his chest as he held her tight. He collapsed on top of her and rolled to one side, taking her with him. Holding her close, he remained connected, erection throbbing. His hunger for this woman had only just begun.
“You—” He gasped for breath. Stroking her creamy skin from rump to shoulders, he took a moment to gather his wits. “You did not—?”
“I did not,” she interjected, breathless and frustrated.
Zeno propped himself on an elbow and smiled. “You need to catch up, Cassandra.”
Chapter Fifteen
“More.” Cassie hardly recognized the brazen harlot who urged Zeno onward. He stroked a finger along her moist inner wall. “Close?”
She arched in response to this dark, elemental man who pleasured her, coaxing forth a hussy—a woman she had never experienced. “Yes, Zak.”
Licking her from breast to belly, he pushed her legs apart. His face nuzzled the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs as she rotated her hips and pushed upward to answer to his caress. Every part of her hungered for more as he laved her most sensitive spot. He sucked the swollen flesh until she shuddered.
Zeno sat back on his haunches, Prussian blue eyes dilated by desire. His gaze slid slowly ov
er her body. Part man, part wild predatory cat. He might eat her alive and she would give him any access he wanted.
Her skin tingled. The contrast of her nakedness against his tousled dishabille made her feel vulnerable and wicked. With his shirt open and his trousers barely edging his hips, she admired a curve of groin muscle that disappeared beneath the fabric of his pants. From observation she had already surmised he was a handsome specimen of a man. But here, in front of her, he was a marvel of lean, sinewy torso. To think all that had been hidden under stiff shirt collar and frock coat. Until now.
His tongue lapped front to back slowly, patiently, with varying degrees of pressure—just enough to craze her senses with a raw wave of pleasure. She lifted her head, eyes wide open, and stared into dark sapphires. A rush of heat blistered her cheeks—God help her. His gaze explored her most intimate feminine places and his manipulations felt wonderfully depraved. A deeper level of excitement rippled through her body.
“Hold your breasts. Make those pretty tips point for me.”
She hesitated, then touched herself. He groaned. “Yes, like that.” She grew bolder, rolling nipples into peaks, as she arched from her own wanton self-pleasuring.
Zeno returned to his knees, grabbed his penis and stroked. The stiff rod slapped against his abdomen as he edged her buttocks up onto the tops of his thighs.
He kept his thumb on her clitoris as he thrust back inside her, giving her what she wanted, sensing she was close to release. And he would see her passion, watch her body arch in ecstasy as he began his own crescendo.
Heaven came slowly. Between each thrust, he stroked her with the wide pad of his palm or tapped with a finger. She never knew which caress would come next. Would he cause her to moan or shudder? She lost all focus but one. Pure pleasure.
Her world began to separate around her. Mind from body, flesh from bone, seconds of eternity. She toppled over the crest into oblivion.
CASSIE AWOKE TO the splash of carriage wheels and the wet clop of horse hooves in the street below. During the wee hours of the night, rain had fallen. She predicted a beautiful spring morning and opened one eye. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen outside the bedroom window.
An Affair with Mr. Kennedy Page 14
