by Never A Lady
She smiled. “How can I strain it further?”
“Kiss me.”
Without hesitation, she slid her arms around his neck and urged his head lower. He allowed her to take the lead and groaned when she ran her tongue over his bottom lip. She rose up on her toes, pressing herself against him, and his head spun. Her warm skin touched his bare chest, her hard nipples pressing into him, her tongue invading his mouth, and he instantly forgot not to move. His hands slipped under the shirt she wore, skimming down her back to cup the soft curves of her buttocks. And in an instant she was gone.
“You promised to keep your hands to yourself,” she said from three feet away, shaking a finger at him.
“I promised to try. I did try. You are impossible to resist.”
“You need your hands tied to your sides.” Her eyes narrowed, then glittered with mischief. “I believe I can help.”
“I can’t imagine anything you could do that would make me less inclined to touch you.”
“I can.” With her gaze steady on his, she slowly pulled the length of his cravat from around her neck. “Put your hands behind your back.”
He raised his brows even as his erection jerked. “You’re planning to actually tie me?”
“Yes.”
“Believe me, that will not make me less inclined to touch you.”
“But it will render you less able to do so.”
“You think so?”
“I’m quite good at tying knots.”
“I’m quite good at untying them.”
Her eyes glittered with unmistakable challenge. “Shall we see who’s better…unless you’re afraid?”
Keeping his gaze on hers, he slowly moved his hands behind his back. “On the contrary, I’m highly intrigued. However, in the interests of good sportsmanship, I feel it only fair to warn you that once I’m free, I shall make no attempt whatsoever to not touch you. I’ll touch you however and wherever I please.”
“Fair enough. However, I believe you’ve already touched me everywhere.”
“My sweet Alexandra. I haven’t begun to touch you in the all the ways I intend to.”
The heated interest that flared in her eyes at his softly spoken words coiled raw want through him. She might be inexperienced, but clearly she was adventurous. And not a coward. And had spoken the truth when she’d stated she wasn’t shy. He’d planned to seduce her and instead found himself thoroughly seduced. Never had a woman captured every part of his mind and body as this one did.
She stepped behind him, and he positioned his hands. When she finished, she said, “That should hold you nicely.”
He wriggled his wrists, testing the bonds. “Seems a thorough job.” He looked at her over his shoulder. “It would appear I’m quite at your mercy.”
“I’m not certain I’ve ever heard a more provocative statement.” She settled her hands on his shoulders, then ran her palms slowly down his back. When she stepped closer and pressed her lips to his skin, he drew in a sharp breath, gritting his teeth to keep from brushing his bound hands over her soft abdomen.
“I believe you’re trying to drive me mad,” he ground out.
“Is it working?”
“Extremely well.”
She caressed him with long, slow strokes down his back and arms while her lips pressed soft kisses along his spine. He closed his eyes, absorbing the gentle exploration, praying he’d be able to maintain his control and not spill in his damn breeches.
She made her way slowly around until she faced him again. Looking down, he watched her fingers glide down his chest. When she reached his breeches, he went perfectly still, in an agony of anticipation.
At the first light brush of her fingers over his arousal, he closed his eyes and groaned. “Again,” he said gruffly.
She obliged him, trailing her fingers slowly down his length, then cupping her palm around him. Heat surged through him. Bloody hell, he wanted her hands on him. Now. He raised his gaze and their eyes met. “Open my pants, Alexandra.”
She set to unfastening his breeches, and he clenched his jaw to remain still. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, his erection was freed. The anticipation of her touch was so intense it bordered on pain. When she reached out and brushed the backs of her fingers down his length, he sucked in a sharp breath, and his eyes slammed shut.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked.
“No. God, no. Don’t stop.”
She stroked him again, more surely this time, and after drawing a deep, shuddering breath, he opened his eyes and looked down, watching her hands glide over him, stroke him, and cup him. Heat poured through him, and his every muscle tensed and quivered with the effort he expended not to thrust into her hand.
“You feel so hard,” she said.
He groaned. “You have no idea.”
“And so hot.”
Not surprising, as he felt as if he were about to incinerate. Her fingertip lightly encircled the swollen head of his arousal. “You cannot imagine how incredible that feels,” he said in a gravelly voice he didn’t recognize. She wrapped her fingers around him and gently squeezed, and his groin tightened. When a pearly drop emerged, and she smoothed it over the engorged head, he could remain still no longer. His hips flexed forward, and he thrust into her hand.
“Are you impatient?” she whispered.
“Beyond,” he growled. Executing a series of well-practiced movements, he quickly freed his wrists, then yanked her into his arms. She made a startled exclamation, which was cut off by his kiss. One hand moved up into her hair, cupping her head to hold her immobile while he kissed her with all the pent-up need and desire ripping through him. His other hand skimmed down and hooked under her thigh, pulling it upward to settle it high on his hip, opening her for his touch.
His palm brushed over the curve of her bottom, then his fingers caressed her feminine folds from behind, finding them already silky wet and swollen. Thank God, for he wasn’t certain how much longer he could last.
He forced himself to arouse her with a deliberate lack of haste, trying to decrease his rapid heart rate, but the way she squirmed against him, her belly brushing against his erection, her hands racing over his skin, was not helping to calm him. Knowing the battle was about to be lost, he scooped her up in his arms and strode to the bed, where he laid her on the counterpane with a gentle bounce. His shirt she wore fell open, as did her thighs, and for several seconds he stood, mesmerized by the sight of her, naked, flushed, aroused, glistening wet. For him. The woman he’d waited years for.
He refused to wait another instant.
Without pausing to remove the remainder of his clothing, he settled himself between her splayed thighs and braced his weight on his forearms. The tip of his erection brushed through her curls and over her silky folds. Looking into her eyes, he eased slowly inside her, absorbing the way her wet, velvety flesh gripped him, stopping when he reached the barrier of her maidenhead.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he managed to say.
“I’ll hurt you if you stop now.”
If he’d been capable of laughter, he would have chuckled. Instead, he thrust and slid deep inside her. Then groaned.
Bloody hell, she was so wet and so tight and he was so hard and so close to the edge of his control. He fisted his hands and forced himself to remain still, bludgeoning back the clawing need to simply take her with long, deep, hard thrusts.
She was looking up at him through wide eyes filled with both surprise and hesitancy. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded, slowly, then more positively. “Yes. Are you?”
I’m dying. “I’m fine.”
“I feel…filled. Are all men as…blessed as you?”
Christ. He was trembling, could barely think, barely breathe, and she expected him to answer questions? “I don’t know. Right now, I’d wager I’m the most blessed man in England. And also the most, um, impatient.”
“Excellent. Because I want to know everything. There is more,
isn’t there?”
He huffed out a breath. “Yes. There’s more.” Unable to remain still any longer, he slowly withdrew, nearly all the way, then sank again into her wet heat, her body gripping him like a silken fist. He continued those long, slow, deep strokes, watching her hesitation dissipate, turning to need as she clutched his shoulders and moved beneath him, awkwardly at first, but still meeting his every thrust. His breathing turned rough and choppy, and every short breath he dragged into his lungs burned. Need scraped him, and his thrusts increased in speed. Her eyes drifted closed, and with her fingers digging into his shoulders, she arched her back, a low cry escaping her parted lips. He thrust deep, embedding himself fully, then stilled, watching her, feeling her climax pulse around him, clenching, squeezing his shaft. The instant he felt her body go limp, he withdrew and gathered her close, his erection pressed tightly between their damp bodies. Burying his face in the warm, fragrant curve of her neck, his release shuddered through him, dragging a guttural groan from his throat.
When his tremors subsided, he lifted his head. And found her regarding him with a dazed, bemused expression. One, he suspected, that perfectly matched his own. He shifted, prepared to roll off her so as not to crush her, but her arms tightened around his shoulders and she shook her head.
“Don’t go,” she whispered.
A warm tenderness, unlike anything he’d known before, eased through him, and he gently brushed his fingertips over her smooth cheek. “I’m not leaving. I just don’t wish to crush you.”
“You’re not. Your body on mine, your skin against mine, your weight…it all feels so lovely. I’m always cold, and now, well, I’ve never felt so delightfully warm in my entire life.”
I’m always cold. An image of her—cold, hungry, dirty, desperate—flashed in his mind and his chest went hollow. He wasn’t certain how to respond, indeed, words suddenly felt completely beyond him. All he could do was stare at her, and wonder…at how a woman with no sexual experience had managed to please him more than any other woman ever had. And at the unprecedented heart-tugging feelings curling through him.
Before he could speak, she said, “It did not escape my notice that you freed yourself of your bonds. I’d tied you very securely. How did you manage it?”
“Just a little trick I picked up during my spy days.”
“I’m impressed.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “I’m an impressive fellow.”
She breathed out a long, pleasure-filled sigh. “You’ll receive no argument from me.”
His gaze roamed her face, settling on a stray dark curl resting on her cheek. He stared at that silky skein, then rubbed it between his fingers. According to his card reading, the danger surrounding him concerned a dark-haired woman. And he suddenly realized that this dark-haired woman and the way she made him feel did indeed present a danger to him. Not the sort his instincts had been warning him about, but in a way he suspected could prove just as dangerous.
Because she very easily could jeopardize his heart.
Sixteen
Alex came awake slowly, blinking against the shafts of bright sunlight streaming through the French windows. Sunlight? What time was it?
Pushing herself up onto one elbow, she winced at the tenderness between her legs and turned her sleep-heavy gaze toward at the mantel clock. Her eyes snapped open. Nine o’clock? She never slept so late! Never slept for more than a few hours at a time—
Memory returned with a thump, and she swiveled her head to gaze at the empty pillow next to hers. The pillow that still bore the indentation where he’d lain. Leaning over, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. The pillow that still bore faint traces of his scent.
An all-over blush warmed her naked body, and, with a sigh, she lay back down, clutching his pillow to her. The soft material abraded her sensitive nipples, and her eyes slid closed, vividly recalling the incredible sensation of his hands and mouth caressing her breasts. Sensual memories bombarded her, and she made no effort to push them aside, instead basking in every one. Colin gently cleansing away the evidence of their lovemaking. Removing the rest of his clothes. Exploring her body with a gentle passion that left her breathless. Teaching her how to touch him, of what pleased and aroused him, then finding endless ways to please and arouse her. Encouraging her curiosity, refusing to allow her to feel in any way embarrassed or inhibited. Then making love to her again, with such intensity she’d collapsed in his arms afterward, limp and sated and boneless in the most deliciously wicked way.
The last thing she recalled was curling against him, her head on his shoulder, her hand resting on his chest and absorbing the slap of his rapidly beating heart, her thigh settled across his, and his lips pressed against her temple, whispering her name. She’d never felt so safe and warm and secure in her entire life.
She certainly now knew what all the fuss was about. Knew that terrible, wonderful need that had to be satisfied. Understood why men and women escaped to dark alleys to assuage their lustful urges.
Yet unlike those back-alley liaisons, there had been nothing sordid about what she’d shared with Colin. He’d been everything she’d known he would be—tender and patient and beautiful. And for reasons she couldn’t understand, he clearly desired her—a man who could have any woman he wanted. Why on earth would he want her?
He wouldn’t—not for a minute if he knew what you really were. What you’d been. How you’d lived your life.
Hot moisture pooled behind her eyes, shocking and mortifying her. What on earth was wrong with her? She never cried. Certainly not since she’d been a child. Not since she’d held her mother’s hand and watched the only person she had in the world pass away.
After brushing away the moisture with impatient fingers, she firmly set aside his pillow, then rose. There was no reason to feel so uncharacteristically weepy. She was merely unaccustomed to the intimacies they’d shared. They’d simply touched her heart in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Which explained all the foreign feelings and emotions roiling through her, leaving her vulnerable and unsettled. Feelings and emotions she needed to keep tightly reined in, lest the seeds she feared were already planted be given room to grow.
Crossing toward the ceramic pitcher and bowl in the corner, she paused in front of the cheval glass. And stared. At a naked wide-eyed woman with loose, tousled hair, flushed skin, and kiss-swollen lips. To her, there was no missing the knowing, carnal gleam in her eyes that had not been there before. Would anyone else notice? Emma certainly would, but hopefully only because her friend knew her so well.
She studied her reflection for several long minutes, trying to see what Colin saw, why he had singled her out for his attentions, but couldn’t figure it out. It wasn’t because she was beautiful because she simply was not. Not with her irregular features, and certainly not if compared to the stunning and elegant young women available during the Season. Yet he’d claimed she was exquisite. Perhaps he needed spectacles?
He’d seemed inordinately enthralled with her body, but as far as she could tell, hers did not differ in any way from any other woman’s, except that she was perhaps a bit taller than was fashionable. Perhaps he behaved in a similar way with all his lovers—
She squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head, refusing to think of his kissing, touching, making love to another woman. He would be doing so soon enough—to a woman who would not only be his lover but his wife. A woman who would never, could never be her.
So she would simply concentrate on enjoying their brief time together. Of remembering the magical way he’d made her feel. Of how indescribably safe and warm she felt in his arms. And then, she would let him go.
Opening her eyes, she straightened her spine and continued toward the water pitcher. As she approached, she spied a folded piece of vellum near the wooden stand. Her footsteps quickened, then she stared. At the vellum and the small object resting next to it. She reached out an unsteady hand and took the note. After unfolding it, she read the brief message:
&n
bsp; An exquisite night with an exquisite woman deserves an exquisite treat. Enjoy your surprise for which you were so deliciously impatient. Until later…
She picked up the single piece of marzipan that rested next to the note. The candy looked like a perfect miniature orange. Her heart turned over, then plummeted a bit farther into the emotion-filled canyon from which she despaired of ever retrieving it. Until later…
God help her, she could not wait.
Colin paced the length of Lord Wexhall’s drawing room, impatiently waiting for his brother to appear. “Gift, indeed,” he muttered, glancing down at the bundle of black puppy fur asleep in the crook of his arm.
Bloody hell. He should have known Nathan would do something like this. Try to bribe him into taking on one of his menagerie by calling it a gift. Well, he wasn’t having any of it. If he gave his overrun-with-animals brother even the slightest encouragement, he’d soon find himself with not only a dog, but cats and goats and pigs and ducks and cows and God only knows what else. The puppy’s floppy ears twitched in its sleep, and Colin sighed.
Naturally Nathan wouldn’t give him just any puppy. No, he’d give him an absolutely melt-your-heart adorable, irresistible puppy. But resist he must, for if he didn’t, he knew that the parade of farm beasts that would follow this sweetly innocent dog would never end. Therefore, the minute Nathan appeared, he’d pretend total indifference to the puppy and place him right back into the hands that had delivered it. Blasted nuisance of a brother. The only thing that he could say for Nathan’s gift was that it had accomplished the impossible by making him think of something besides Alexandra.
Alexandra. An image of her instantly rose in his mind, and his pacing slowed. Alexandra, naked and sated, her soft lips parted, her eyes heavy with sexual languor, reaching out her arms to him. Alexandra, asleep, her pliant body nestled against his. He’d held her close, breathing in the scent of her hair, her skin, brushing gentle kisses against her temple, reliving each moment of their passion until it was indelibly branded in his brain.
