Flawless (30 page)

“Good.”

“Good? That’s all you have to say?”

He stalked nearer. Viv retreated one step, then two, until she pressed against the back of the staircase. A rush of memory overwhelmed Miles, mingling with a possessive turmoil that left him shaking and light-headed. They had a history with staircases.

“What more would you care to hear? That I want to remove the man’s heart for violating you?” He slid his hands down along either side of her breasts, his thumbs flicking over the nipples hidden by layers of red silk and lace. Her lips parted. “Or that the idea of your mouth touching another man’s turns my stomach hard and hot as a lit coal?” When his hands reached her waist, he pressed his groin against hers—not so much an expression of lust but a claiming
of territory. “Or perhaps that I refuse,
absolutely
refuse to share you with anyone else?”

She swallowed. Any minute now, the past and present would collide in her mind.

“You’re being very generous with me.”

He blinked. “What was that?”

Viv offered a lopsided smile—a new one he’d never seen before. He quite liked it, although the way it twisted his heart was probably more dangerous than being caught making love behind a staircase.

“You haven’t mentioned how you’ve kept your word ever since we arrived,” she said. “And you have yet to say ‘I told you so’ regarding Mr. Elden’s intentions.”

Miles let out a heavy sigh. He bracketed her face in his hands and kissed her softly. “I told you so,” he whispered.

Her hands tightened on his biceps. She made a little pleading noise in the back of her throat. If they didn’t leave in the next three minutes, he’d crawl under her crinolines and smile as history repeated itself.

But Viv wouldn’t allow that. Not again. She had the poise of an angel—something he’d been too stubborn and conceited to recognize before. And that majesty was as much a part of her as her wit, her flawless skin, and the green and gold in her eyes. The passion she was capable of rendering was as valuable as her burgeoning trust. He was responsible for protecting it, not flailing at her dignity until she succumbed.

With an effort that left him more dazed than their waltz, Miles stepped away from his wife. His blood fizzed
and popped. His ears rang as the distant quartet’s melodies turned muddy. His body demanded release, but he refused.

“Miles?”

Her hands were molded flat against the costly white marble, as if bracing against a fierce wind. But the only storm was inside his wife. The animal flare of her nostrils and the tight tendons along her throat revealed her blustering turmoil.

Miles waited. He would have all of her or nothing. That had been his gamble from the very start. Only now did he understand that fully.

She stood away from the wall and laced the fingers of one hand through his. Heat and promise and fear mingled in her decadent gaze. But no matter the challenge, she’d always been a brave woman.

“Miles, take me home.”

Viv sat next to Miles
in their enclosed coach. Their knees touched. She could move away—anything to put an end to the seductive closeness they’d discovered. But she didn’t want to see it end. No matter what tattered ghosts remained come morning, they would be naked, loving, sleeping entwined tonight. There was only darkness inside the coach, but Viv saw the next few hours so clearly.

Then why wasn’t she frightened? The jittering feel in her limbs wasn’t fear. It was delicious anticipation.

Waltzing with him, wrapped in his firm, skilled hold, had been her every secret fantasy made true. She should have been appalled at her behavior, when her pelvis fitted so snugly against his, but she’d only wanted more.

Viv pressed gloved palms against her flaming cheeks. He didn’t say anything as he took one of her hands in his. Slowly but without hesitation, he turned her wrist upward and began unfastening the tiny row of buttons.

“Miles,” she breathed.

“Shhh. Close your eyes.”

But she couldn’t. The white leather of her gloves glowed faintly, while Miles’ss agile fingers offered a dark contrast. The buttons undone, he peeled back the oppressive leather and exposed her skin—first one wrist, then the other. Soon. Soon he would do the same to her dress and her underclothes.

But not soon enough.

She yanked back her hands and stripped off the gloves. The leather dropped into the darkness around their ankles. She shifted on the bench until she could face her husband, this man who ignited her from the inside out. With her fingers naked and trembling, she brushed her knuckles along both of his cheeks. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear what he whispered. She leaned nearer, the crinkle of her silk gown sounding inordinately loud.

“What did you say?”

A hint of moonlight shimmered over his eyes, like the watery reflection of a lake. The volatility she felt was staring back at her. “Kiss me,” he whispered.

“Is that what you said?”

“Nearly.”

Viv cupped the sides of his face. “Tell me.”

“I said, please.” He turned his face and kissed one palm.

She shivered. “No, you didn’t.”

“I said, I want you.”

Miles eased her backward until her shoulders braced against the side of the coach. The scent of him, all peppery soap and sun and starch, sped her pulse. But he didn’t touch her. Needing that connection, Viv slid her fingers into his hair and tugged. He winced, then grinned.

“Try again,” she said against his lips.

“I said, Vivie, I can’t breathe. Don’t you know that, my darling? I can never breathe when we’re together.”

“Neither can I.”

He pressed a chaste kiss on the end of her nose. His hands fit perfectly into the curve of her waist, then journeyed around to find her backside. Strong fingers fought past the layers until he could squeeze flesh, pulling her thighs apart. Viv gasped. The insistent thrust of his erection nudged against her belly.

“I said, are you scared?”

“Terrified,” she said.

“But you’re still here. You haven’t pushed me away. Why?”

Her face glowed hot. The skin between her legs was hotter still, so slick and ready. “That was our agreement, wasn’t it?”

He flinched. “This is just obligation, then?” Although he kept his tone light, his fingers radiated tension into her thighs and buttocks. He breathed with short, shallow breaths through his nose. “I see. If that’s how it must be . . .”

“Miles, kiss me properly.”

“No,” he whispered. “Do you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m tired of chasing you. It does in a man’s pride, you see. Pulls it to shreds.”

His pelvis flexed. With slow, maddening strokes, he mimicked entering and withdrawing, rubbing his swollen shaft against her hot center. Her drawers were damp. Wet cotton rubbed against that sensitive skin. Viv was strung between agony and white-hot pleasure. She breathed his name and matched his rhythm. Her hips tipped up with his every grinding push, meeting him, inviting him. The friction teased and stretched and sparked, so near to what her body craved. So very near—but so frustrating that she pounced.

She kissed him. Hard. Teeth and lips and tongues jammed together as she took out her frustrations on his firm, luscious mouth. Miles grunted. He tightened his hold on her backside and rubbed his smooth cheeks against hers as they fought for a better angle. He tasted just right, her husband, this man she wanted more with each hot inhale. He was the passion she had never known with anyone else. He was promises kept.

Only when her head thumped against the wall of the coach did they part. Viv panted. Miles’ss hands still held her lower body in the most exquisite cage of raw need and beautiful brawn. They regarded each other, still and suspended, with only the noise of wheels along the gravel and their own rough breathing to color the silence.

Miles swallowed. “Do you want to know what I said? Truly?”

“Yes.”

“I said, come to me.” He eased a lock of hair off her forehead and followed it to her ear. Such tenderness. God, he was impossible. “Because I wasn’t lying, Viv. I don’t want to beg or bargain anymore. If you want me tonight, you must come to me. Come to stay.”

He sat up and resumed his seat. With a swift hand down either sleeve, he smoothed his evening suit back into place. Only the way he shifted slightly on the bench gave away his body’s discomfort. Was he still hard? If she slid her palm up his thigh, would he open his knees for her, invite her as she had?

The thought made Viv shake. Her mouth felt cottony and her tongue swollen.

But worse than the unspent passion whirling through her muscles, glimmering just beneath her skin, she considered his words. She’d always assumed that only her pride was at stake, as he wiggled and wormed past her defenses. She’d never considered that her rejections might affect him the same way.

And dear God, she’d left him. Twice.

Miles wanted her. She’d come to rely on that fact. But one day, after one rejection too many . . . what if he no longer did?

With a jolt the coach came to a stop. Miles jerked the handle and swung the door outward, not waiting for Adam. He jumped down to the ground.

She bent at the waist and grabbed her gloves, then went about slowly tugging them back into place. But the fire in her blood refused to ease. She finally accepted his hand. Her
knees wobbled as she stood on solid ground. The light of an external lamp lit his face from one side, exaggerating every plane and ridge in strong shadow. Adam flicked the reins and drove the coach back toward the stable, leaving Viv alone with her husband.

Husband.

Not lover. Not master. Not any of her mother’s faceless customers.

“Why does this have to be so difficult, Viv?”

Because you don’t know me.

He didn’t know the terror and the hunger. He didn’t know the putrid smells and the sound of abused mattress ropes, or the screams of the mad and the damned, all clutched behind iron bars. He didn’t know and he never would.

With desperation layered atop desire, she looped her arms around his neck. She kissed him again—hard, hot, questing. She held on, eyes closed tightly, her tongue memorizing the taste of him as if for the last time.

M
iles stood on the walkway
and kissed his wife. But despite the wicked, needful fire in his gut and the ache of his impatient erection, he didn’t devour her.

She devoured
him
.

Such a gratifying reward, one he tried to savor. So he kissed Viv, but with the restraint he’d never known he could muster. Her tongue invaded and his retreated. Her hands grabbed at his hair and his shoulders, while his remained fixed at her lower back. He was being worshipped by a stubborn, mysterious slip of a woman and he didn’t want to miss a single sensation.

Viv angled her head to kiss more deeply, stoking the flame of his need. He would let her determine the pace—for the sake of his pride, yes, but also to let her discover how shattering it could be to lead, to demand, to take. He needed a partner in all things, even in his greed.

His own eagerness could wait while he soaked up hers.

That amusing noise of frustration returned as she pulled away. “Why are you doing this?”

“Simply awaiting orders, my lady.”

“Orders?”

“Your sexual demands. I will obey your wishes, but I will not anticipate them.” A thick strand of golden hair had unfurled. He tugged it, then let the curl spring back against her cheek. She looked wild and delicious. He breathed her rich rosewater scent and spoke against her temple. “Trust, Vivie. I’m yours for the taking. I promise. Tonight, you decide
everything
.”

Her gaze fastened on his mouth, as if the sight of his lower lip had become more fascinating than a hundred perfect gems. “Very well. Your bedroom. Now.”

She tugged his hand, practically dragging him toward the house. He followed her across the threshold and up the stairs, watching the swish and sway of her bustle. The magnificent red gown had likely made her the envy of every woman at the ball, and the object of every man’s desire. But the lush creation had served its purpose. He wanted her free of it. Soon.

No, her pace.

Bloody hell, he was a madman.

Down the corridor, she opened the door to Miles’s bedchamber and shoved him gently inside. The click as it closed sounded like a promise. Safe there, tucked together away from the rest of mankind, she laid her hand flat against his chest, right over his heart. That light, warm pressure accentuated how quickly it beat.

“I’m through second-guessing what I want. At least for tonight. But . . .” She swallowed, her eyes rimmed with the
slightest shimmer of tears. “But I’m going to need your help.”

Miles held very still. She had the potential for such authority and aggression, but doubts could make her skittish. He wanted none of that hesitation between them when their bodies came together.

“How so?”

“Have you ever had infinite choices? Have you ever sat down at a dinner party only to learn that you can have any meat? Any dessert?” Rather efficiently, she went about lighting two candles, one on either side of his bed. No matter what she said about choices, she had obviously pictured certain details already. His room, lit by a gentle glow. “I wouldn’t want to make a mistake—request Yorkshire pudding with pheasant and a side of mint sauce and custard.”

His lips twitched, beginning to glean her meaning. “But what if that is, in fact, what you want?”

“I wouldn’t want to look a fool,” she whispered.

Her desolate expression made Miles want to hold her. Not make love to her. Just hold her. Ah, God, this had not been about sex in ages. Maybe it never had been so neatly sordid. Their hearts wouldn’t let go.

“Would it help to know that anything is possible here? With just us? Mint sauce and all.”

“Don’t tease, Miles. Not about this.”

He shook his head slowly, his gaze never wavering. “No teasing. Here, just you and me and
anything
.”