A Week to Be Wicked (25 page)

Colin had to stoop to fit through the small doorway. Inside, they found just a small cookstove, a lamp, various crooks and other shepherding implements . . . and a narrow cot.

Still breathing hard from exertion, Minerva found a flint and lit the lamp. “Do you want to know something?” As the yellow light warmed the space, she turned her gaze to Colin. “Today is my birthday.”

He laughed. “Really?”

“No. Not really.” She giggled helplessly. “But if it were, it would have been the best one ever. Colin, you were unbelievable.”

“You were amazing.” He took her by the waist. His chest rose and fell with a resonant sigh. “You
are
amazing.”

His words of praise gave her gooseflesh. But as he pulled her close, a strange round obstacle squished between them.

His brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Oh,” she said, laughing. Pulling back a bit, she fished the obstacle out of her overskirt pocket and held it up for his view. “I saved you a peach.”

He looked at the peach. Then he looked at her.

“
Minerva.
”

Awareness tingled over every inch of her skin. The hunger in his eyes, the smoldering heat between their bodies . . . this wasn’t a lesson, or an experiment to satisfy scientific curiosity. It wasn’t pretense of any sort.

This was
real
.

He bent his head by slow degrees, teasing out the moment. Making her reach for him, stretch for him, ache for him. Until finally, his hand slid to cradle her neck and he took her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.

She let the peach slip from her fingers and tumble to the straw-covered ground, the better to fill her hands with him. They kissed and grappled, tangling tongues and weaving their fingers into each other’s hair. It seemed they couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t kiss deeply enough, couldn’t press enough skin to skin.

Her nipples came to tight points. She felt the hard ridge of his erection, jutting against her belly. And her mind slowly caught up to what their bodies already knew. There was only one way to satisfy this need. Only one means of achieving the closeness she craved.

“Minerva.” He slid his tongue from her throat to her ear. “I want to make love to you.”

Just at the words . . . that bold, unequivocal statement of intent . . . fire raced through her veins. Hot, powerful, consuming.

There were a dozen reasons why she might refuse him. But they were all someone else’s reasons. Her mother’s, her peers’, society’s. She’d already left all those expectations behind. If Minerva consulted herself, there was no question. Her body craved the feel of his skin against hers. Her ever-curious intellect was eager to experience physical passion, with him. And her heart . . .

Oh, her heart was already his for the breaking.

His hands went to the knotted overskirt ties. With deft motions, he untied them and slid the garment free. Then he started on the row of hooks down her back.

His voice grew rough with need. “I promised you I wouldn’t do this. Hell, I promised myself I wouldn’t do this. But I can’t help it, Min. I want you so badly.”

She kissed his throat and pressed her body to his, hoping to show him what she couldn’t quite find words to say. That she wanted him, too. Needed his touch. As he worked the closures of her gown loose, she tangled her fingers in his wavy hair.

“Colin,” she sighed.

His hands went to her shoulders. His gaze searched hers. “If you don’t want this, tell me so.” He swallowed hard. “Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

In answer, she merely drew the sleeves of her gown down her arms and pushed the blue silk to her feet. He took one of her hands to steady her as she stepped free of the gown.

Standing back a pace, he made a wistful noise in his throat. “Just look at you. So lovely.”

She warmed with pleasure as he surveyed the items she’d drawn from her trousseau that morning. Her lacy white chemise, bosom-flattering corset, and silk stockings. If she’d been saving them for anything other than this moment with him, she couldn’t remember it. This mad, triumphant day at the fair; this snug, humble place to spend the night. The unveiled desire in his eyes as he regarded her.

This felt like all she’d ever wanted.

She opened her trunk and found those embroidered sheets she’d stitched and saved for some unlikely wedding night. Together, they spread them on the narrow cot.

Even if she went to her grave a spinster, she would still have known more passion in this one night than some women experienced in a lifetime. She vowed to savor every touch. Remember every caress. Keep her eyes open for each and every moment. Even now, as he kissed the soft place beneath her ear.

He took her by the waist and spun her around. With her back to him, she trembled as he worked the laces of her corset loose. At last, the restrictive garment fell away from her body, and she drew a deep, intoxicating breath.

With a soft groan, he gathered her close. The solid muscles of his chest supported her weight as he lifted and cupped her breasts through her chemise. Her breath quickened as he stroked and caressed the soft globes, thumbing her nipples to taut, eager peaks.

She turned in his embrace, wanting her turn to touch. Sliding her hands under his lapels and toward his shoulders, she cleaved the coat from his body. He shook the heavy garment down his arms and tossed it aside. She gathered the loose fabric of his shirt and yanked it free of his waistband, sliding her hands beneath to explore the smooth, muscled contours of his torso.

He lifted his arms overhead—as much as he could, with the low ceiling—and she drew the shirt up and over his shoulders. Once his shirt was removed, he directed her to do likewise. Minerva stretched her arms tall as he gathered the thin, gauzy fabric of her chemise and drew it up her body. Slowly, reverently. Until he pulled the shift over her head and arms. With a flick of one hand, he tossed it aside. Then his hands made a slow, languid sweep back in reverse—skimming down her stretched arms, over her breasts, her waist, her hips. Awakening every part of her with his touch. His palms were a little roughened from his thatching work that morning, but the delicious friction only increased her excitement.

It let her know this was real.

She stood before him bare, save for her stockings and garters. He ran one hand over her backside and down her thigh. She thought he would untie her garter, but instead he smoothed his hand over the delicate silk. Lifting her leg, he wrapped her thigh over his hip, drawing her close. Her breasts met his bared chest, and as they kissed she couldn’t help but rub them against his solid heat, easing their dull ache. He moaned into her mouth.

He worked a hand between them, gently cupping and stroking her sex. A muscle in her inner thigh quivered, and she felt herself growing damp.

He pressed two fingers inside her, pushing deep. Until the heel of his hand rested firm against her mound. Her body’s reaction was immediate, intense. As he rocked his hand back and forth, she moved with him, riding his motions and moaning in time to his gentle thrusts.

So close. She was already so close.

He withdrew his fingers, and she whimpered at the sudden loss.

As he lifted her and lay her down on the bed, his voice shook with need. “Damn it, I know I should be selfless. I should give you pleasure first. But I want to be in you. I want to be so deep inside you when you come.”

To that, she could muster no protest.

She watched him as he sat on the trunk and wrestled out of his boots and breeches. As his erection sprang free of his unbuttoned falls, she reached for the enticing, dusky curve. He made her free to explore, spreading his thighs wide so she could stroke his full length and cup the vulnerable sac beneath. He sighed deeply as she caressed him. She dabbed at the bead of moisture welling from his tip, spreading it with circling motions of her thumb.

He grabbed her wrist, staying her hand. With a hoarse chuckle, he said, “I can’t take much more of that.”

“Then come to me.” The words made her feel bold and seductive. She stretched sinuously on the cot, making her whole body an invitation writ in pale pink calligraphy.

He wasted no time accepting. He moved between her legs, spreading her thighs wide. The full length of his shaft teased up and down her sex, making her mindless with pleasure. By the time he positioned the broad, smooth head of his cock at her opening, she ached to be filled.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned, pushing forward. “So wet and so tight.”

At the slow, startling invasion, she couldn’t suppress a sharp cry of pain. Her eyes flew wide, and she gasped for breath.

It was done. He was
in
her. They were making love.

It felt . . . wonderful and terrible, all at once. The flood of sensations and emotions overwhelmed her. Her breasts molded to the firm weight of his chest. Her heart swelled with a poignant tenderness.

But mostly—between her legs, it hurt like the devil.

Colin knows what he’s doing
, she told herself. Surely it would start to feel marvelous soon.

Any moment now.

He slid out a little, then pushed back in. Plunging deeper this time, and stretching her wider. She knew from her own explorations, he was thickest at the root. The further he advanced, the more the pain increased. She wavered on the brink of begging him to stop altogether.

“Can you . . .” She panted for breath. “Just wait. A moment.”

With a curse, he pressed his brow to her shoulder. “I hate that I’ve hurt you. I hate that I’ve done this to you at all.” He lifted his head. “God, Min. I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I don’t know how, but . . . I’ll make it right.”

“Just make it good.” She gave him a brave smile. “You do know how to do that?”

His mouth tipped in a lopsided, arrogant grin. “That much I hope I can manage.”

He didn’t press any deeper. Instead, he gave her the pause she’d requested and refocused his attention on matters close to hand. Balancing his weight on one elbow, he framed her breast in his cupped fingers and sucked her nipple into his mouth. He mouthed her lazily, swirling his tongue around and over the sensitive peak. With every flick of his nimble tongue, a shiver of bliss spread through her body.

As he transferred his attentions to the other breast, the pain where they were joined began to ease. Her intimate muscles relaxed around his girth, and the swollen bud at the crest of her sex ached for attention. Instinctively, she arched and rolled her hips, seeking friction. She found it—but the motion also pulled him deeper, brought them closer.

She gasped, surprised by the sudden pleasure. He moaned around her nipple.

All pain was forgotten as she tried to duplicate the sensation, writhing against him again. Then again, and again. Taking him deeper in tantalizing increments. With each motion, his pelvis rubbed hers just where she needed it, taking her arousal to new heights.

“Yes,” he said, shifting his weight and driving forward. “That’s it, love.” He slid one hand beneath her bottom, lifting her up and against him as he thrust deeper still. “It’s better now, is it?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He thrust harder. “Yes?”

“
Yes.
” She clutched his shoulders. “Oh, Colin. It’s so good.”

Burying his face in her neck, he muttered something that sounded like,
Thank God.
He set a rhythm, strong and steady, probing just a bit deeper with every stroke. She felt him reaching places she hadn’t dreamed existed. And still, she craved more. When his full length was at last buried inside her, he rested a moment, holding their bodies close and joined.

His eyes shone with emotion. “I’ve been wanting this, Min. For longer than you could know.”

She touched his cheek. “So have I.”

He kissed her sweetly as he began to thrust again. Deep and steady. Real and true. She arched into his motions, growing desperate for more. At his silent urging, she wrapped her legs over his, and he slid deeper still. Now he stroked against some dark, sweet,
essential
place inside her, wrenching a joyful sob from her throat with each teasing thrust. She clutched at his back, digging her fingernails into his flesh. Her teeth scraped his shoulder.

Don’t stop. Please, don’t ever stop.

She rode the wave of pleasure higher and higher, until it broke. He held her tight, stroking on and on as she spiraled and tumbled through bliss.

He raised up on his arms, working her from a new, deeper angle. His pace accelerated, and the force of his thrusts increased. She loved feeling the need strung tight in his muscles. Loved knowing how much he wanted her, seeing the pained expression of desire on his face. Loved taking him just as deep and as hard and as fast as he wanted to go. As though if they collided hard enough, they might be meshed into one person.

They
could
be meshed into one person, if he didn’t take care.

“Colin,” she panted. “We must be careful.”

“I know. I know. You just feel . . .” He groaned on a deep, hard thrust. “So sweet. So right. So good. So . . . very . . . very . . .
very
. . .”