Raising his head, he set the glass aside, lifted her and rose to his feet.
“It is time you went home.” He didn’t quite believe the words as they dropped from his lips, but there they were, stark and uncompromising.
Her pretty, lush mouth fell open. “Was it something I did?”
Her disappointment took him by surprise, until he divined the reason. “Don’t worry, you and that hag Mrs. B. will be paid.”
Shadows filled the blue of her gaze. She looked more than disappointed, she looked hurt.
The sight tugged at his groin as it twisted something in his chest.
Damn it all, when for once he was trying to be good.
Chapter Two
Julia wasn’t surprised he didn’t want her. Hurt? Yes. Painfully so. And, shame on her, ridiculously disappointed. But not in the least surprised.
This tall man towering over her, who had lifted her from his knee without effort, could have any woman in London. Perhaps in the world, should he beckon a finger. Why would he want to pay for her, when she had so little to offer.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice still husky with the passion he’d aroused. She cleared her throat, turned her face away. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You want this.” He sounded surprised.
He tipped her chin with one finger, and it took all her will to return the piercing gray gaze. They stared at each other for a long moment in a silent battle. “Don’t lie to me, love. Tell me you want this.”
Why was she hesitating? She desired him. Already she had felt more passion in a few moments with him than she had felt in the whole of her married life. Why not seize the chance of something wonderful for once. She swallowed. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
He inclined his head slightly, not in defeat but in acknowledgment. “Who am I to deny a woman as lovely as you? Shall we?” He gestured to the bed.
Mouth dry, still reeling from her unexpected boldness, she watched as he picked up the tray with the wine and the feather, and carried it to the bedside table. He turned and held out his hand. “The night is short and there is much to discover.”
The sensual note in his voice brushed the hairs at her nape. She shook with anticipation. Trembled with longing. Never had she experienced the like of this overwhelming need. And this was her choice. Her decision.
The skin of his outstretched hand against her palm was warm and dry and smooth. He enfolded her in his arms and bent to kiss her lips, one hand carefully cradling the back of her neck, the other cupping her buttocks.
Sweetened by wine, his lips melded with hers, gently wooing and teasing until she parted her lips and he tasted the inside of her mouth. His kisses were like nothing she’d encountered in her marriage and nothing like her youthful dreams. They dizzied her. Turned her insides to liquid and left her willingly at his mercy.
His chest rising and falling against her in a steady press of heated body sent little tingles of pleasure to the peaks of her breasts each time they came into contact, tantalizing her with something she didn’t understand. No more than a whisper of a caress, it set her on fire.
And somehow set her free of her fears.
And he seemed equally stirred, his breathing ragged and harsh in her ears, as if he too wanted something just beyond his reach, and yet he seemed content to linger.
Emboldened, she eased her thigh between his parted legs, pressing against the blunt ridge of his erection.
He broke the kiss to look into her face. “Steady, love. We’ve plenty of time. You are overeager.”
Overeager, when for years she’d done all in her power to avoid this intimacy.
Not something he needed to know. “I’ve been widowed for three years.”
“Ah,” he said with a knowing smile. “Long enough for grief to lose its edge and for the pleasure of the marriage bed to reassert its allure.”
“Your understanding is sharp, sir.” She lowered her lashes to hide the lie. She would not let the past tarnish the moment.
He traced the path of the belt at her waist with one finger and found the single knot. “I believe this is the key I seek,” he murmured lightly.
Wild flutters started low in her belly. Hot blood surged through her veins. She spoke without thinking. “Try it and see.”
The tie took him not a moment to undo, and the cord fell to her feet, leaving the swathe of cloth draped over one shoulder. He brushed down the fabric with the back of his hand, the long, strong, tanned fingers sweeping across her nipples.
She shuddered at the shocking sensation. Her knees felt deliciously liquid. How could such a brief touch create such heat?
Was it possible she could do the same for him? “My turn.” She undid the belt at his waist and his robe fell apart, revealing a wide chest with a sprinkle of golden curls around dark nipples. Below was a flat belly ridged with muscle and a proud erect phallus begging for attention. She licked her lips, unnerved by the thickness and length of him. He seemed altogether too large.
Her insides quivered with a sudden rush of fear. Had she let her emotions rule her head? Would the next moments prove just as awful as she remembered? Nothing up to now had been like past experiences, but that could change in an instant. She wrenched her gaze to his face. His eyes were hooded and watchful.
She had made her choice. She could not back away. “Impressive,” she said with feigned boldness. It was the first word to enter her head.
The corner of his mouth kicked up. The cruelty bled away. “Thank you.”
The man had a sense of humour. He just didn’t want anyone to know. It made him seem more human. Perhaps the cynical mask he wore hid a softer heart.
Heavy lidded, he stroked his thumb up her arm from her wrist and slipped one finger beneath the edge of her tunic. He drew a circle on the point of her shoulder, then raised his gaze to her face.
Scarcely able to breathe, she nodded agreement. In a swift, brutal movement, he bunched the fabric in his fist and tore it away.
Despite the warmth in the room, she trembled. It lasted but a moment. When his hot gaze raked her body, her skin flushed at the appreciation she saw on his face as he inhaled a deep reverent breath.
“Perfection,” he said on a long exhale. “Utter perfection.”
A smile pulled at her lips, a little wry and a lot pleased. “A bit of an exaggeration, but thank you.”
He raised a brow, the now-charming smile in full force. “I never exaggerate.” He bent and swept her up in his arms and laid her gently on the cool sheets. He shrugged out of his robe and cast it aside.
A beautiful male. Sculpted muscles in arms and chest bunched and shifted with every movement. Wide shoulders tapering to narrow waist and firm flanks. His thighs were long and strong, the muscles clearly defined, making him look as if no burden would be too great for him to carry. He made her feel weak and small. Vulnerable.
But he made no movement toward her.
Her gaze roamed freely by tacit permission. He had the face of an Apollo, starkly hewn, but the ruggedness of a Zeus. He stood immobile, letting her look her fill, letting her absorb the sight of him in all his glorious arousal.
She licked her lips and darted an awed glance at his face. He affected a bored expression, but the strain of waiting showed in his eyes and around his mouth.
He was doing this for her. Letting her see him. Letting her decide. A rush of emotion filled her throat. Gratitude. And something else besides. Affection? Surely not. It must be lust.
Supporting her head on one hand she lay on her side and patted the bed. “Join me.”
A rueful shake of his head indicated a sense of wonder, as if he did not expect her bold welcome. But his hesitation, if indeed that was what it was, lasted no more than a moment. He picked up the feather from the tray, ran its vane through his fingers with a devilish curl to his lips. He stretched out beside her, mimicking her position, their bodies aligned but not touching.
The feather trailed across her lips. It tickled. Her lips tingled. D
elicious desire pooled low in her belly. Her eyelids felt heavy.
“Like that, do you?” His eyes gleamed with devilment. The feather traced along her jaw, unbelievably soft and gentle, then swirled in her ear. Shivers ran across her shoulders and down her spine. She covered her ear with her hand.
“No cheating,” he said, grabbing her wrist.
He tickled under her chin with the tip of the feather. She laughed.
He shook his head at her, his silver eyes smiling wickedly. “If you move, I win.”
His playfulness set her at ease and she arched a brow. “What do you win?”
“The right to do with you what I will.”
The wickedness of his words tightened her insides. “And if I win?”
“The same.”
She liked the sound of that. She liked it a lot. She would win. The trick was to separate body from mind. A lesson she’d learned well in her marriage. “Very well.”
She inhaled a deep breath and slipped into the place where the mind held sway.
His eyes narrowed, as if he’d sensed the change, but he said nothing. The tip of the feather brushed her throat and lingered in the hollow, with little dips and swirls.
He smiled at her lack of response, moving to the rise of her breast, plying his instrument of torture with great skill. Soft slow sweeps followed the swell of curves, with occasional teasing flicks attacking the sensitive peaks. Tantalizing strokes, so soft and sweet, and tantalizing, her flesh felt alive. The place between her thighs tightened with little pulses of desire. She wanted to wriggle. She wanted his hands on her flesh, soothing the fire beneath her skin.
Jaw clenched, she lay still, refusing to acknowledge the sensations sending tendrils of delight pulsing through her blood or the piercing thrills to her core. She burrowed behind the wall she’d built between her and the world. Her protection. Even if, on some deeper level, she already knew she did not need to fear him physically, her soft heart had often betrayed her. Now, she kept herself well guarded.
The feather drifted lower. Lying on her side, one knee crossed over her thigh and resting on the bed, her woman’s centre remained hidden. A small victory, she realized as he stroked her from hip to belly with long slow tempting brushes of the gleaming feather. She wanted to stretch like a cat, or grab his hand and bite.
She focused on his face instead of the simply delicious sensations he created in her body. She concentrated on his expression, the intensity of his gaze. On his face, beautiful despite the severe lines, the nose too large to be classical, the lips too thin to be pretty, yet undeniably sensual. A hedonist, yet somehow spartan.
He was the kind of man any girl would yearn to have as a husband. A passionate, sensual man, rather than the old man she had been required to marry.
She pushed the humiliating thought away. Her husband was gone and this gorgeous man was hers for tonight. A man intent on bringing her pleasure. For the first time in her life, she was being treated like a desirable woman.
Her heart jolted. An odd lurching and painful sensation. Because he cared about her fulfillment as well as his own? Why the thought would touch her in so fundamental a way, she didn’t understand. Nor did she understand the sudden yearning deep in her heart.
What more could she possibly want?
The feather swooped across her buttocks, breaking her concentration. It felt lovely. And torturous. She whimpered with the longing to roll onto her stomach and provide him better access.
“Hmm,” he said. “Another key.”
He drew lazy figure of eights across her bottom, every now and then dipping briefly into the crevasse. It tickled unbearably. She found herself holding her breath waiting for the next delicate assault. Knowing it would be wonderful. A shocking brush of sensitive female flesh between her thighs made her flinch. Tension built to unimaginable heights she could no longer ignore. She broke on a moan of pleasure and a laugh, and rolled out of reach.
He grinned, tossing the feather aside. “You beauty.” He cupped her jaw. “I win.”
He took her mouth in a deep soul-searing kiss. Both a reward and a punishment. Her body was on fire and the kiss did nothing to quench the heat.
Desire thrummed along her veins and pulsed in her core. She clasped his shoulders and pressed her body to his. Nothing in her past had prepared her for this, yet she knew instinctively what to do. She kissed him urgently, pressing her anguished body against his hard length, seeking relief from her suffering. She clung to him, one leg over his thigh, her centre seeking the gift that she knew would set her free.
His large warm hands roamed her body, sliding over the places where the feather had persecuted and teased, the firm but gentle touch balm to her fevered skin. He cupped her breast.
Not nearly enough.
Panting, she rolled onto her back and clawed at his shoulders to bring him with her.
He resisted her pull.
She glared up at him.
He laughed down into her face. “I won, remember?”
She struck his shoulder with her fist. With a smile, he relented, settling himself between her open thighs, hovering above her, his big body held on his elbows while he gazed into her eyes. “Is this what you want?”
“No,” she gasped. “More.”
She brought her legs up to cradle his hips, to guide him into her. “I win, too,” she whispered into his ear.
It was true, she realized with a little shock. She had won much from their encounter. She had won the right to feel like a woman of worth. She felt empowered.
He hung above her. “Are you really sure, love? I’ll give you the money right now if you want to change your mind. No repercussions, I promise.”
Not content with torturing her body, did he now mock her? No. His clear gray eyes were free of deceit. The tautness of his muscles and the strain at the corners of his mouth showed what the offer cost him. A pang pierced her heart at the unexpected kindness. A far more honorable act than his reputation for wickedness suggested.
Unbelievably, this cold hard man had reached her in a way she feared to examine. Not only was he a pleasure to gaze upon, but somewhere beneath the jaded exterior resided a good heart.
To take his money and run would be a betrayal of him and of herself.
She raised up on one elbow. “I’m sure,” she whispered in his ear, and nibbled his earlobe, surprising from him an indrawn gasp of air.
Her inner muscles clenched. Little burst of pleasure radiated from her core. She drew back to look at his face and found the harsh lines of his face softened by desire.
For the first time in years, control nearly eluded Alistair. The beauty beneath him matched his every erotic dream. Tall, with long graceful limbs, she’d been designed for him. Her curves were luscious, yet firm, her lines elegant, appealing to his aesthetic senses. Her enthusiastic responses, her assertiveness, drove him far beyond reason. What he’d started as a game was fast turning into his downfall.
Unexpected.
Problematic.
He should have stopped this the moment he heard her speak in cultured accents. Of all the women to find in this place tonight, when boredom had him in its grip, it had to be one of gentle birth, if not of nobility. A form of punishment from the gods, no doubt.
He had given her every chance to leave. And now he would bind his mysterious masked woman in a web of sensuality and give her a night of unabridged pleasure. It was all he had to offer.
Slowly, far too slowly, from the impatient tension in her body, he slid into the soft, wet heat of her.
Her body welcomed him. Her long sigh rewarded him. He felt like a lad again, fresh and eager to please. The emotion caught him by surprise, and he inhaled a deep breath to reassert control. His arms trembled with the effort of remaining still while her body adjusted to his breadth and length.
She tilted her hips, welcoming him deeper still. A smile of pure pleasure curved her lips and she lifted her head to lick at his nipples with the consummate skill of a courtesan and th
e innocent delight of a virgin.
Pleasure at the feel of her tongue on his skin pulsed through his body in a crashing wave. A volcano of heat erupted in his blood and left him fighting to regain control of his pounding desire.
And she knew it.
The way her smile widened spoke volumes. She was all sensual woman and she challenged him as none before.
He lowered his head and ran his tongue around the edge of her full lush lips. Her mouth opened and he slipped his tongue inside. Tasting wine and a heady ambrosia all her own. A flavor he’d never forget as long as he lived. God help him.
He deepened the kiss, savoured every corner of her mouth, the feel of her breasts against his chest, the tightness of her heat around his shaft.
Slowly he withdrew and then pressed forward again, taking his time, learning her response to each movement of his hips and his touch deep inside. She moaned into his mouth and tilted her hips, drawing him deeper.
His body tightened. He exhaled, letting go of the heightened tension, the urge to reach for completion. He inhaled deeply, preparing to withdraw again.
She gripped him with her legs, her heels pressing into his buttocks, urging him deeper yet. She didn’t have the strength to hold him fast. He raised his head and grinned at her. “All in good time.”
“You, sir, are a tease.”
He laughed at the disgruntled expression on her face as he eased away, leaving the warmth of her delicious body. She would thank him for the sacrifice in the end.
Her head rolled on the pillow. She reached out to one side. Focused on maintaining control, he dimly realized she’d retrieved the feather.
She drew a shuddering breath. “I hope you are ready for this.” The wickedness in her saucy smile blinded him to everything except her face. He would certainly do nothing to spoil her fun.
She outlined his eye with the silky-smooth tip. It broke his concentration. He gritted his teeth.
“You little witch. You did that on purpose.”
She laughed. “It is only fair.” She traced the whorls in his ear. Shudders jolted through his body. He drove into her hard. Her eyelids drooped. The sight of such sensual pleasure heightened his arousal. He was so hard it hurt. Just as she intended.
One Night as a Courtesan Page 3
