by Jo Beverley
Together they lay back among the fluffy pillows before he rolled over on top of her again, positioning his still-trouser-clad body firmly between her legs. As before, Colette gasped at the exquisite feel of his hardened body pressed so intimately to hers. Looking into her eyes, he rubbed against her, and as she quivered, his mouth covered hers in a searing kiss. Good heavens! It was all too much. She felt a hot, yearning ache pooling deep within her, and her body trembled with unexplored need and untamed desire.
And still he kissed her as if she were his very reason for living.
Mindlessly her hands caressed the bare planes of his back, feeling corded muscle tense with exertion under soft skin. The male body fascinated her; he could be so strong and hard and still feel smooth and soft. His mouth left hers again and she wanted to cry with the loss of it. He murmured hoarsely, “God, you’re beautiful.”
She thought her heart would burst with the emotions it contained. Pressing kisses into the hollow of his shoulder, Colette clung to him, not entirely sure what would happen next or how it would make her feel. But she trusted him, trusted him to take care of her and guide her where she needed to go.
“I want you,” he whispered in her ear before he rose from the bed. Feeling cold and bereft as he left her, she watched while he unfastened the ties at his waist. As he removed his trousers, her eyes were riveted to the bottom half of his body. The sight of his fully aroused male form made her mouth go dry and left her dizzier than she had been from his kisses.
Once more he covered her body with his in a way that now seemed achingly familiar, and she almost cried out with the intimacy and tenderness of it. In this sacred position, she instantly grew warm again, heated by the contact of skin against skin. His soft, full lips began their sensual magic on her eager mouth, his tongue delving within and dancing with hers. He positioned himself between her legs, and the sensation melted her mind completely. She could not think a single coherent thought. All she could do was feel, feel Lucien above her, around her, touching her, kissing her, caressing her.
And still it was not enough.
She wanted more of him. Her hands seemed to move of their own volition, for she certainly did not consciously make them, running up and down his back, pressing her fingers into him, in an attempt to bring him closer to her. She squirmed beneath him, and he ground himself against her, causing her to stop breathing for one heavenly moment. Ripples of pleasure slid up her body, leaving her yearning and aching for more. He did it again. And again.
“Lucien…I want…Lucien…”
He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath coming in heavy pants. They stared at each other in the shadowed light, the evening darkness covering them. Then he took her hand in his and slowly guided it lower, between them, to grasp the hard length of him. Stunned by the heated silkiness of his skin, she gently traced the tip, and down the thick shaft, growing bolder as her touch became firmer, more controlled. His eyes closed and his head fell back. Fascinated by the shape and feel of his body, she stroked and caressed him, her fingers moving up and down, gently squeezing, but his sharp intake of breath caused her to stop. With a soft kiss on her lips, he drew her hand away from him and settled himself on the bed beside her, his head propped up by his arm, and he stared at her with a wicked grin. She clung to him, in protest, wanting him, the weight of him, above her again.
Tenderly he kissed her cheek and wrapped one arm around her waist to calm her. Waiting nervously for she knew not what, she gazed back at him. Then the hand at her waist began to move. Lazily he stroked the flat length of her quivering stomach, with gentle, easy motions. His fingers worked a sensuous path across the curve of her hip, down her thigh to her knee, and back up, across her stomach and down the other leg. Warm, soothing caresses continued, up and down, back and forth, down and up, veering ever nearer to the present center of her being. Unable to move, to think, to speak, and barely able to draw a breath, she was weak with anticipation. All feeling, every nerve in her body, focused on the growing all-encompassing need within her. Closer and closer, he teasingly massaged her skin. Oh God, this, this, was unimaginable, unbearable, unstoppable. Never had she dreamed this… When Lucien’s fingers finally touched the soft curls between her thighs, and with infinite tenderness, delved within the slick, aching folds, Colette practically flew out of her skin. One intent finger sank into the depths of her, the core of her, and she thought she would shatter into a million pieces right there on the bed.
“More?” he breathed in her ear, his voice raspy and low.
Unable to speak, a faint little sigh escaping her, she nodded in assent to make sure he knew she was definitely agreeable to more. With his face close to hers, his mouth sought her lips in a heated kiss while he pressed another finger deep within her. Enflamed by the exquisite pleasure of Lucien touching her that way, her body burned. She clung to him frantically, for he was the only solid thing in her spinning world. He was her world. The all-encompassing, all-consuming need that racked her body could only be assuaged by Lucien. She needed him. All of him. More of him.
“Please, please…” she whimpered softly as his fingers moved within her, making every bone in her body melt.
With his kisses hot on her fevered cheek, he continued to stroke her. The sensations created by his fingers within her caused her hips to move in unison with him. An intense longing built within her, and she pressed herself against his hand, searching for a release. On and on it went, until she thought she would go mad from it all. Time lost all meaning. All that mattered was his mouth on hers, his naked body beside her, and his exquisite fingers. Just when it seemed she could not endure another moment of waiting, a sudden intense burst of pleasure spread through her with such fervor that she cried out for him.
Lucien held her close to his chest then, cradling her in his arms, kissing her hair, soothing her as she regained her senses. She breathed him in as she lay in his arms, wondering at her own body. No one had ever explained that to her. Then again, how could they? What had just happened between them defied words. It had been heavenly. Yet strangely enough, that exquisite release had left her still wanting more.
Her mouth sought his and he responded to her overture with an eagerness that excited her. Their lips clung to each other ravenously. In a sudden and swift motion, he rose above her, separating her legs with his knee. Colette thrilled at the inevitability of what would come next, the anticipation almost too much to bear. He pressed himself against her, and her breath came in shallow pants. Waiting. Wanting. Wishing.
“Colette?” he asked in an anguished voice, his green eyes heavy with desire for her.
Looking up at this man poised above her, his handsome face looking intently at her, his voice saying her name, his breath mingling with hers, the broad expanse of his chest touching the tips of her breasts, and his legs interlocked with hers, there was only one reply she could give. Fear, shame, shyness, and regrets were feelings for another time. Right now, right here, with this man, she wanted this. She wanted him. All of him.
“Yes.” The word escaped her mouth in a hiss, and she pulled him to her, pushing her body toward him at the same time.
A throaty groan tore from his mouth and he plunged into her with a quick and sure motion.
Colette cried out, not so much from the pain but from the surprise. The surprise of how he felt inside her, of the physicality of being so close to a man. This man.
Lucien stilled at her cry, sheathed within her.
Not wanting him to stop, instinctively she thrust her hips against him. That was all it took before he continued this dance. Slowly and gently he moved within her, rocking her in a steady motion. The sensation took her breath away and began to build in intensity. She wrapped her arms around him, gripping him tightly, knowing he was taking her into the unknown, but she felt safe going with him. As his thrusts grew more urgent, deeper, more forceful, she welcomed them with a fervor that matched his.
Once again she sought the blossoming sensation of pleasure
that grew insatiably within her body. Her movements mirrored his, arching her back and meeting him thrust for thrust. Her mind lost all sense when he placed his hand between them, right where their bodies were joined. He touched her expertly, and the ache that had built to a fevered pitch finally exploded in a burst of pleasure so exquisite, so blissful, and so enrapturing it felt as if a million little sparkling stars fluttered around her. As she called his name, he called hers, and continued to drive into her.
Over and over again.
Reeling from the assault on her senses and overwhelmed by the tremendous emotions that flooded her, Colette felt molten tears spill down her cheeks.
She loved him. The complete sense of peace and rightness and belonging enveloped her being. She belonged to Lucien. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this feeling with Lucien. Nothing she had read in books compared to the intense emotions that surged within her heart for this man.
Lucien’s movements became more frantic and a fine coating of sweat covered him as he labored over her. She kissed his face, his neck, clinging to him, urging him, tears flowing from her eyes.
“God, Colette,” he exclaimed in a growl as he gave one final, deep thrust, before he shuddered and collapsed above her. They both panted and gasped for breath for some time, their arms and legs wrapped around each other.
The room was now in complete darkness and hushed in quiet. Lucien finally lifted his head and moved off her, kissing her cheek tenderly as he did so. He pulled her into the crook of his arm, pressing kisses in her hair.
“Are you crying?” he asked, his voice soft and remorseful. He touched a gentle finger to her cheek, following the path of tears.
“No.” She sniffled a little and gave a nervous laugh, wiping at her tears with her hands. “I’m fine.”
“You are crying, Colette.”
“But not because I’m sad or hurt,” she explained hurriedly. “I’m just crying because…I don’t know. I suppose because it was just so beautiful and I never knew anything could be so special.”
“Ah, Colette.”
She shrugged, feeling awkward and suddenly shy with him, as if she had angered him somehow. “I’m sorry I cried.”
He rested his head on the pillow beside her, taking her hand in his and placing it on his chest. “You have no reason to be sorry. I am the one who should apologize.”
“Apologize for what?” Her heart resumed its frantic pounding pace. Oh God, he regrets being with me already. Mortification and an alarming sense of humiliation overwhelmed her being.
“Apologize for what?” he echoed her question in disbelief, frowning. “For what just happened here between us.”
After a sickening pause, she managed to ask, “Are you sorry it happened?”
He paused for a thoughtful minute. And another. She waited, holding her breath, her heart in her mouth.
Finally he muttered, “I don’t know.”
“Well, I’m not,” she said in a small voice.
He said nothing else. An uncomfortable silence settled over them. What happens now? Suddenly she did not know how to act with him. He did not seem like the same Lucien who had kissed her senseless and just made love to her. A distant, cold stranger had taken his place.
“I should go,” she murmured, with the forlorn thought that she wished she were already at home in bed with him right here. How heavenly to be able to curl up next to him in this very bed and sleep with his strong arms about her all night long. A dream that would never come true either.
At her words he did not let go of her, but neither did he encourage her to stay. “Colette?” Her name sounded like a cry of pain.
She waited for him to continue, wishing she could see his face in the darkness. Oh, Lucien, her heart cried, heavy with raw emotion. Was he angry with her? Sad? Regretful? The room seemed too silent, too full of shadows.
“Colette…” he began again, his voice tinged with bitter remorse. “You deserve so much better from me. I shouldn’t have let this happen. It was wrong and I knew it when I kissed you the first time. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you—”
“Stop,” she interrupted him as stinging tears threatened anew. Sitting up, she clamped her hand over his mouth. She could not bear to have the most incredible and beautiful experience of her life with the man she loved reduced to nothing more than a mere lack of willpower on his part. How could he not feel the way she did about it?
“Don’t say any more and listen to me. You did not take advantage of me, Lucien Sinclair. When I said I wanted to stay, I meant it. I wanted this as much as you did, if not more. So please don’t be sorry, because you did not make me do anything I didn’t wish to do. I don’t regret it, not one minute of it. It was heavenly. The most thrilling, and most wonderful, and most amazing, and…and…I…I need to go home.” The last words were uttered on a sob as she pulled away from his embrace and rose from the bed as quickly as she could.
“Colette,” he called after her as she fumbled in the dark to find her clothes.
I will not cry again, she instructed herself, taking a deep breath as she found a bundle of her clothes on the floor. I will not cry. Feeling for her chemise, she flung it over her head hurriedly. She had to leave before the tears began. And this time the tears would be because she was sad and hurt.
Lucien had followed her off the bed and lit a lamp on the bedside table. The dim light cast a yellow glow in the room. He pulled on his trousers and Colette turned her back to him and continued dressing as fast as she could, thankful once again that she did not wear a corset regularly, for it would only have slowed her down. Still, she needed him to fasten the back of her dress.
He came up behind her and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her against his chest. “Wait,” he whispered in her ear.
At his touch she almost melted in his arms, dangerously close to crying in great, wrenching sobs.
“Listen to me.” He spun her around gently, so she faced him. His green eyes bored into her as he spoke. “I did not mean that I was sorry I made love to you. This was different for me, too. That’s because it was with you.” He paused and placed an emphatic kiss upon her lips. Pulling back, he looked at her meaningfully. “But you have to understand the great mess we’ve just created.”
Her head swam with what he said. He felt something, too. “What do we do now?” she asked, her heart racing.
“What do we do now?” He blinked. “I don’t know yet.”
He doesn’t know! The man who always had an answer for everything suddenly had no answers when it came to her. Her tears dissolved instantly. Irritated with him, she demanded, “Well, what do you usually do?”
“What do I usually do?” he echoed her in confusion.
“Yes, you’re the one with the reputation. What do you usually do in these situations?” she questioned him harshly, and then added, “And stop repeating everything I say.”
He loosened his hold on her, and she took a few steps away from him. She bent to retrieve her shoes. Angrily shoving her foot into her low-heeled slippers, she snapped, “Well?”
“In spite of your lurid imagination, I am not usually in ‘these’ situations. In fact, I have never been in a situation like this before.”
“Because now you’re expected to marry me?” She challenged him with her directness.
“Yes,” he admitted quietly, but did not look at her.
“And you won’t?” The stinging behind her eyes returned and she blinked rapidly.
He did not answer her, and in an instant her heart, brimming with tender new emotions, shattered like fine crystal upon a slate floor. She had been a complete and utter fool. He didn’t want her, and he certainly did not love her.
His inability to respond to her question was more than answer enough.
Chapter Seventeen
Regrets Only
“Where have you been?” Juliette demanded when Colette finally arrived home later that night.
Juliette had been given the responsibility of cl
osing the bookshop, not a task that that she relished with great joy. When Colette had gone out earlier that afternoon to deliver books, Juliette had counted on her returning right away. Instead Colette had been gone far longer than necessary and then sent the surprising message that she would not be home for supper at all, which irritated Juliette even further.
The night had grown late. Their mother had retired for the evening, complaining of her usual headache. Lisette, Paulette, and Yvette were already in the room the three of them shared, but Juliette had waited up for Colette. Now she followed Colette into their bedroom, wanting some answers as to why her sister had been gone so long and why she looked so oddly disheveled.
“You received my message, didn’t you?” Colette asked, carelessly tossing her bonnet and shawl on the chintz-covered chair in the corner.
Juliette’s eyes narrowed. Her very meticulous sister never threw her belongings. She always hung everything neatly in the wardrobe, taking great care of her possessions, especially with their new clothes their uncle had purchased. Juliette continued suspiciously, “Yes, but that does not answer my question.”
“You knew I was at Lord Waverly’s house. He just escorted me home in his carriage.”
“But that doesn’t explain why you are so late coming from his house. Or why you left to deliver a few books and returned over six hours later.”
“How did you fare in the shop tonight?” Colette changed the subject.
“Fine. We had quite a few customers, and two more ladies signed up for the reading circle. Everything is taken care of and properly locked up for the night.”
“I know,” Colette admitted. “I checked before I came upstairs.”
