by Candace Camp
The dress sagged open, falling farther apart with each button, until finally it slid down over her petticoats to pool at her feet. Then his hand was on the bare skin of her upper back, her flesh tingling at the glide of his skin over hers. He slid his hands down over the thin cotton of her camisole and up beneath the hem of the garment, his fingertips hot and slightly rough against her skin.
Desiree trembled at his touch and pressed herself more tightly against him, her kiss deepening. But she ached to feel his body beneath her hands, so finally she pulled away, her fingers going to the buttons of his waistcoat. He helped her by shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it away, then working at the cuffs of his shirt.
His waistcoat open, she started on his shirt’s buttons, wondering why men found it necessary to wear so many items of clothing. Then at last his shirt was open, exposing the bare strip of skin down the center of his chest, and her fingers went under the shirt, roaming his skin, exploring the hard ridges of his ribs and the firm muscles that padded his chest.
Tom hissed in his breath as she pressed her lips against his chest. Her mouth moved down the central line of his sternum. Desiree teased a pattern across his skin with her tongue, learning the faintly salty taste of him, and the faint moan she wrung from him increased her own pleasure.
She touched his flat masculine nipples, and, remembering the feel of his mouth on her breast, she twined her tongue around the small hard buds, first one, then the other. His body jerked in response, and he dug his fingers into her hair, sending hairpins flying and her thick hair tumbling down.
Desiree lifted her head. His eyes were bright blue, his face slack with passion. For a moment, he gazed down into her eyes, as if he could see straight to the center of her soul, then he bent to take her mouth in a fierce kiss, claiming and offering, taking and giving in a torrent of heat.
Pulling back, Tom swept Desiree up in his arms and carried her across the room to the bed. Setting her down beside it, he stepped back, toeing off his shoes and ripping his open shirt off his shoulders to drop it on the floor. Desiree, watching him, matched his movements, reaching down to the hem of her chemise and pulling it up and off over her head.
The sight of her stopped his movements. His eyes dropped to her breasts, hunger flooding his face. He covered her breasts with his hands, gently squeezing and caressing. He swept his hands down and back, linking his arms beneath her bottom and lifting her up to take one of her nipples in his mouth. He loved it long and attentively, and with every stroke of his tongue, desire coiled tighter in Desiree.
She stroked his shoulders, his arms, his hair, the ache deep inside her swelling. Digging her fingers into his shoulders, Desiree murmured his name in a broken voice, on the edge of simply shattering, wanting more and at the same time yearning for satisfaction.
Tom dropped her onto the bed, and Desiree bounced lightly, laughing up at him. He grinned, eyes glinting in a predatory way, and climbed onto the bed, straddling her legs. Desiree’s breath caught in her throat, the familiar thrill of the chase permeated with sensuality. The throbbing between her legs turned hotter, fiercer, more demanding.
He went to the ties of her petticoats and underpants, impatiently snapping one when it knotted under his fingers. He bunched the waistbands in his hands and pulled them all down. Sucking in a breath, Tom sat back on his heels, his eyes blazing, and simply looked at her.
A flush touched Desiree’s cheek, embarrassment mingling with a sensual satisfaction, the look in his eyes heating her blood, and she felt a wayward temptation to stretch beneath his gaze in a thoroughly wanton manner. So she did.
“Are you planning to just look?” she asked archly.
“No.” His answer was low and husky. He reached out to trail a finger down the center line of her body from the hollow of her throat to the juncture of her legs. Moisture flooded between her legs. “I plan to do a great deal more than look.” He planted his hands on the bed on either side of her, crawling slowly up her body. “I plan to touch.” He curved one hand over her breasts and down her side. “And taste.” He bent to kiss her mouth.
As they kissed, his body slid down from his crouch, so that he supported himself on his forearms and his legs were flush against hers. The fabric of his trousers upon her bare skin was somehow titillating, but as she stroked her hands over his back and down, she wanted to touch him without the cloth between them.
“Take off your clothes,” she ordered huskily.
“Yes, ma’am.” She felt the breath of his little laugh against her lips, and then his weight was off her. He stood up, unbuttoning and quickly shucking off the remainder of his clothing.
Desiree studied his naked body, her eyes widening a little at the sight of him. She had known what a naked man looked like. It had been impossible to grow up as she had in Falk’s household without catching a glimpse now and then.
But she hadn’t really known, she realized now, looking at Tom’s sleekly muscled body. He was beautiful in a thoroughly masculine way, the lines of muscle and bone making her fingers itch to touch him. And if, in his heavily aroused state, he looked a bit dangerous also... Well, Desiree had never been one to shy away from danger. She held out her arms to him.
He returned, nudging her legs apart with his knees, and she opened to him. Desiree’s hands went to the fleshy curve of his buttocks, caressing and clutching, then trailed down onto his thighs, delighting in the texture of his hair-roughened skin.
Tom kissed her, his hand caressing her breasts, her stomach, gliding down between her legs, finding the silken-soft flesh there, wet with the evidence of her desire. His mouth left hers, trailing down her body to devote his attention to her breasts, all the while his fingers still playing with her, stoking the fire within her.
“Tom...” Desiree moved her legs restlessly, her body knowing that only he could satisfy the ache that pulsed deep inside.
He murmured something unintelligible, his mouth drifting to the soft skin of her stomach as he slipped his finger inside her, hinting at the surcease she sought while increasing her need for it. Desiree dug her fingers into his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin. He groaned, a shiver running down his back, and he shifted, the head of his shaft teasing at her entrance.
Desiree widened her legs, pressing up against him, but he barely entered her, moving with relentless slowness as he sank into her, pulling back, then pushing forward. Her nails scored his back as Desiree wrapped her legs around him tightly, and he sank all the way into her, filling and fulfilling her need. She let out a soft moan, moving with him.
Passion built in her, coiling ever tighter, driving Desiree until she was trembling. At last, it exploded and an indescribable pleasure rolled through her. Tom let out a cry and shuddered, pouring himself into her, and they clung together, riding out the storm.
Tom collapsed against her, rolling to the side and taking her in his arms. His breathing was ragged as he murmured, “Stay with me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“OF COURSE.”
That had been Desiree’s answer this afternoon. Tom wasn’t sure what she’d meant. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what he had meant. Stay with me always? This afternoon? Weeks or months or years?
Standing here now, leaning against the wall of the casino and watching Desiree at work, he thought about this afternoon. What they’d said. What they’d done. Remembering the slow, languorous hours they had lain in his bed, kissing, talking, making love again, stirred up the embers of those flames.
That kind of thinking was asking for trouble. A few minutes of that, and he was hard as a rock, not really presentable, especially in a casino owned by Desiree’s brother.
But thinking about what they’d said was perhaps even more dangerous. For a man who’d been steadily building a life for himself, laying a foundation for what he could become, the whirlwind of the present was a disturbing burst of pleasure and excitement, as allu
ring as it was exotic and just as likely to vanish as a morning fog in the sunny glare of daytime.
Desiree stirred him in more ways than he had ever imagined possible. She made him want to leap without looking, without even pausing to glance at what lay beneath or beyond. Caution had never been a hallmark of his character; he’d had to train himself to be steady, to work and plan instead of jumping at any momentarily appealing thing that came along.
It had taken him several years to accept that the Morelands weren’t going to abandon him. It had taken even longer to realize that he could build some sort of structure that, however rickety, would support him in some semblance of the stability that other people, people with families and backgrounds of honor and honesty, possessed.
Yet here Desiree was: a thief like him, raised like him, possessing similar instincts and thoughts. Tempting. Enthralling. Offering him a dazzling prospect of joy. And he wanted to take that leap. God, he wanted to take it. Wanted it so much it scared him.
Desiree looked up from her cards, and her eyes went to Tom. A sensual smile curved her lips, setting Tom’s pulse pounding. He took out his watch and opened it. Another hour before the time she usually stopped playing. But as he watched, Desiree stood up, smiling at the other players and talking to them for a moment before she turned and walked toward him.
She was leaving early. Desiree’s thoughts were clearly running along the same lines as his. He’d suspected that from the moment she’d dismissed Merriwell this evening, telling the driver that she and Tom would catch a hackney home. The knowledge that Desiree was as eager as he to be together again had kept his blood thrumming with fire the past two hours.
Desiree took his arm and they strolled out of the club. With a word of farewell to the guards at the door, they started down the shallow steps to the street below. Desiree paused and glanced around.
“What is it?” Tom asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve just been on edge all evening. It’s been harder to focus. But I think it’s just...you know.” Her eyes went to his mouth. “Us.”
“I know.” Heat pulsed in him at her words. But he tore his eyes away from her and looked carefully up and down the street. He couldn’t allow his hunger to distract him from Desiree’s safety.
A hack pulled away from the line of carriages and rolled to a stop in front of them. With a last glance around, Tom gave Desiree a hand up into the vehicle and climbed in himself, telling the driver his address. They started off at a fast pace.
Desiree turned to Tom and was immediately in his arms. They kissed as if they had been separated for weeks rather than a few hours. The temptation of watching Desiree all evening had built into a white-hot hunger.
Suddenly Desiree pulled from him. Her hand went to her chest. “Tom...”
“What is it?” His passion was shoved aside by alarm. “Danger?”
“I feel...uneasy. It’s sharp.”
“The way you felt before Falk’s man took that box from us?”
“Yes.” She slid away from him, her gaze going to the window as Tom did the same thing on the other side of the coach.
Tom let out a curse. “This isn’t the way to my flat. Where the devil are we?” The street they were on was narrow and dark, with few streetlamps. The buildings were unfamiliar, overhangs creating deep shadows on the street below.
“The East End, I imagine,” Desiree said as their vehicle rumbled onto cobblestones, the ride suddenly jarring.
“Stop!” Tom called to the driver, lunging forward to pound on the window between them.
There was no answer except for the hackney speeding up. The carriage was racketing along now, far too fast for the dark street. Trying to jump out would be sheer folly. They were bounced about and had to brace themselves against the walls and floor to keep from sliding off the seat.
“Damn!” Tom muttered. “I should have been paying attention.”
“We were distracted,” Desiree said wryly. “No point in berating yourself about it now. We’re going to have to run, aren’t we?”
“Yes. As soon as we stop.”
“And I have on this blasted dress.” To Tom’s surprise, she turned her back to him. “Unbutton me.”
His eyebrows went up, but he started doing as she said. “Desiree, what are you doing?”
“I’m getting rid of my corset,” she replied.
Fortunately, her low-necked evening gown had fewer buttons than the dress she had worn this afternoon, a wide sash securing it at the waist. He began untying her corset, and Desiree said, “Just cut them.” Reaching into his pocket, he took out his penknife and sliced down the strings. The corset sagged open, and Desiree tossed it aside. He began to rebutton the dress but could manage only the very top ones, the waist now too tight.
While he worked, Desiree had turned up the skirt of her elegant dress and untied her petticoats. She shucked them off, adding them to the corset on the floor. “At least I wore low-heel slippers tonight.”
Next she swept up her full skirts, twisting them and knotting them, then shoved the ends into her sash, with the result that her skirt now fell to her knees rather than her ankles. Desiree pulled out the glittering ornament she wore in her hair. Three prongs had secured the jeweled figure of a hummingbird to her upswept hair, and each of the metal prongs was wickedly sharp. She pinned the knot of skirts to the waistband with the ornament to ensure they would not come undone. The entire process had taken her about three minutes.
“That pin is lethal,” Tom commented a little enviously. It looked a good deal more dangerous than his pocketknife, that was certain.
“Never hurts to have a weapon with you.”
“You are a dangerous woman.”
“I am,” Desiree agreed, grinning at him.
“Sadly, I have nothing but this.” Tom reached into his jacket and pulled a small derringer from his inside pocket. “It’s only good at close range and has just one shot.”
“Then you’d better make good use of it,” Desiree responded. “We’re slowing down.”
Tom reached out and turned the door handle, peering out the window at the dark street. Four men stood in the shadows, waiting for them. Before the vehicle stopped completely, Tom flung open the door and jumped out, Desiree right behind him. There wasn’t time to aim; he simply fired at the group, then turned and darted after Desiree. A shout of pain behind him told him he’d at least done some damage, and it gave them a few extra moments.
Amid the chorus of curses from the men, one voice rang out, “Get her!”
Glancing over his shoulder, Tom saw that the men had all dived for cover, including the one who was clutching his arm. Ahead of him Desiree was scanning the area around her, and he knew she was looking for something to climb. Heaven help him.
Suddenly she stopped, her head whipping around, and she ran back to the pub they’d just passed. A large barrel stood by the door, and Desiree climbed up on it, then jumped up to grab the bar of the sign above the door. Planting her foot on the top of the open door, she pushed up and scrambled onto a narrow ledge. Tom followed her, thrusting aside his doubt, and managed to get onto the ledge beside her. He gripped the bricks of the wall with his fingertips, unlike Desiree, who barely touched them.
Desiree was already sidling along the ledge and around the corner. When Tom edged around the corner after her, he found himself in an alleyway even darker that the street. It was rank with the smell of refuse and so narrow their bodies barely fit between the buildings. Apparently, Desiree had not only the eyes of a cat but the agility of one as well, for she continued moving along at a fast pace. She stopped when she reached the back of the building that abutted this one.
Tom could hear the running footsteps of their pursuers, then the sounds of the men attempting to copy Desiree’s maneuver with the barrel and sign. That was followed by curses and a crash as the barrel turned over and rolled into th
e street. Tom couldn’t help but smile to himself even though he and Desiree were stuck at a dead end.
He wondered if Desiree intended to cling to the side of the building until the men gave up. Tom knew he could do some damage jumping down on them, but they were still outnumbered, and however courageous Desiree was, she was far smaller and slighter than any of the men.
The side of the building where they stopped was Tudor timbered, and Desiree began to scramble up the beams, somehow finding every divot or crack that she could use as a handhold. She crawled onto the roof. Tom followed less nimbly, tearing a fingernail and scraping his knuckles in the process. He swung his leg up and heaved himself over onto the flat roof.
“Good Lord, you’re mad,” he said, simply lying there for a moment. The cursing behind them continued as the men apparently tried to squeeze into the narrow alley.
“I’m good.” Desiree grinned. “Now, just follow me.”
She crossed the roof to the adjacent building. It was several feet higher than the one they were on, but the wall had enough chunks of mortar missing between the stones to make for easier handholds and footholds. They took off across the rooftops.
On the street below, their pursuers followed their path. There were only three of them now; the man he had shot had stayed behind. The men stopped once or twice to try to climb up a building after them but finally gave up and just kept up with Desiree and Tom from below. Eventually Desiree and Tom would have to climb back down.
They reached a cross street, and Desiree stopped, studying the street below and the building across from it. The lane was narrow, and the buildings on each side were in the same Elizabethan half-timber style, the upper floors extending out a few feet over the street. The gap between the two buildings was therefore narrower than the lane. Desiree began to back up.
