Along Came a Rogue (12 page)

“The daughter of a duke,” he murmured as his tongue laved her nipple. “Graceful and kind.” He took the bud between his teeth and worried at it until her fingers dug against his skull with arousal, and he chuckled against her flesh. “A bit devilish.” Then he shifted to begin the sweet torture anew with the other nipple, coaxing another shivering moan from her. “So damned seductive.” As his mouth suckled at her breast, his hands reached beneath the water to stroke down her body. “Simply beautiful.”

Arousal flashed through her like a wildfire, tickling at her toes and burning the ends of her hair, tightening hard between her thighs. Barely able to breathe beneath his heated attack against her senses by his mouth and his words, she felt herself running toward something she couldn't name, something only Grey could reveal to her. Something she desperately needed.

She'd never felt this way with Andrew. Her body had never craved possession and surrender the way it did now with Grey, who seemed to want to touch and taste all of her, slowly and torturously, because he knew she would find pleasure in it. Even now, as he lifted his mouth to take delicate nips up her throat to the underside of her chin, the thought curled through her like a ribbon zigzagging through a stay that he'd lied to her in the carriage. He would never see her as one of his merry widows to ravish and leave. She knew better. Any man who touched her this gently, this affectionately, could never be the coldhearted rake he described.

“Kiss me,” she begged, having waited far too many years to have his lips on hers again.

“I told you, it won't be nice,” he warned as his teeth scraped along her jaw.

She tilted back her head to give him access to her throat. “God, I hope not!”

He laughed as his lips captured hers, and she drank in the sound. Hot, forceful, and insistent, his mouth blistered as it took possession of hers. He kissed her as if he couldn't get enough of her, couldn't taste her deeply enough, couldn't kiss her thoroughly enough—with a low groan, he shoved his tongue between her lips and plundered her mouth until he left her frantic to have his hands all over her body.

She shamelessly opened her thighs in invitation to touch her
there
, the one place he'd yet to explore, the place that ached so desperately for him that it left her panting and shaking with need. “Grey, please.”

Another groan tore from him, this time of frustration as he pulled away from her.

“I can't.” He rocked back onto his heels and stood unsteadily, running a shaking hand through his damp hair. “I should never have let it get this far—
Christ
!”

As he looked down at her, she saw the battle raging inside him, the raw desire for her warring with his control. “Yes,” she urged, desperately wanting his touch, “you can. I want you to.”

He rasped out hoarsely with a regretful shake of his head, “We've already been through this, Mrs. Crenshaw.”

“Emily,” she insisted, cringing at her married name. She sickened to hear it when his hands and mouth had been on her only moments ago. “I'm just Emily.”

“No.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “You're not.”

“Because of Andrew? If that's what stopping you…” Drawing a deep breath for strength, hoping he would understand, she admitted, “I didn't love him.”

His eyes flickered down disbelievingly toward her belly, and her hand reflexively covered the bump, which was barely visible beneath the water.

“I wanted a baby. He was my husband, and I—” Her voice choked. “But I never loved him, not like a wife should. And he certainly never loved me.”

Slowly, she rose from the tub and stood, letting the droplets of warm water rain down her naked body. Goose bumps dotted her skin, not from the cold air but from the nearness of him, even now wanting him so badly she shook with it.

But the stubborn man refused to touch her. His fists clenched at his sides to physically restrain himself from reaching for her, and his eyes determinedly fixed on her face as if it would shatter him to glance down at her body.

Aching harder with each passing heartbeat that he kept himself from her, she whispered, “Touch me, Nathaniel.”

He didn't move, yet his eyes filled with a hungry heat at her plea. “I shouldn't.”

“But you want to.”

The single word tore in a rasping groan from his throat. “Desperately.”

“Good.” Unable to endure the lack of contact with him a moment more, she touched his cheek. The stubble of his two-day beard scratched beneath her fingertips, and he inhaled sharply through gritted teeth as if her touch pained him. “So do I.”

“Damnation!” Knocking her hand away, he grabbed her shoulders. “What you're asking of me—I have to stay away from you. Can't you see that?” Despite his words, his hands tightened their grip, and she felt him shift her closer, felt the heat of his bare chest next to hers, so close but not yet touching. “I'm a rake, Emily, a perfect scoundrel—”

“Stop saying that! You are not.” Tears of angry frustration blurred his handsome face. “Not to me.”

He shook his head. “I use women, Emily, and you don't deserve that. Because that's what it would be—only physical, no matter how much we both enjoyed it.” A soft groan tore from him as he dropped his gaze to roam lasciviously down her front, leaving her trembling and aching even harder for him. “And I suspect I would very much enjoy it,” he murmured, and the deep purr of his words fell through her like liquid fire. He tore his eyes back up to hers. “But you deserve a man who will marry you, give you a home, a family—I can't give you that.”

“I don't want that.”
Not anymore.
Once, she'd dreamed of having exactly that, only to discover that the price of her dream was too dear. Now she wanted only this moment, this night…this man. When she leaned forward and placed a kiss in the middle of his bare chest, his entire body stiffened. “All I want is you.
You
, Grey, for however long I can have you, in whatever way.”

“Emily.” His husky voice cracked. She knew his resolve was melting, knew from the way his hands now curled over her shoulders to draw her near rather than push her away that he was breaking.

Her lips whispered kisses across the planes of his chest to his shoulder. “You said in the carriage that I was your perfect woman.”

“You are,” he bit out grudgingly. His hands slid down to her back, and his arms tightened around her despite his determination to refuse her.

“Then let me be perfect for you tonight.” She touched her lips to his and shivered at the need she tasted in him. She'd waited years for this night, and she refused to wait any longer.

“And the baby?” His conflicted desire to both protect her and ravish her showed in his frustrated grimace. “I don't want to hurt you.”

Her heart skittered deliriously at his concern. Smiling joyously against the sting of tears, she whispered, “You won't.”

With a groan of surrender, his hand swept down her body, then up between her thighs to capture her folds against his palm. The swiftness of his touch ripped her breath away.

Emily closed her eyes and clung helplessly to him. One of his arms snaked like an iron band around her lower back to keep her hips in place against him as he boldly stroked his fingers into her cleft, seeking out the softness and heat he had almost denied himself, although with her arms now locked around his neck, nothing could have torn her away.

“Is this what you want?” he murmured against her temple.

She nodded her forehead against his chest and panted hard, unable to recapture the breath he'd stolen. His fingers relentlessly teased at her, stroking back and forth against her folds and making her wet beneath his touch. The depth and pressure of each shivering caress increased until he slipped two fingers into her warmth.

She gasped at the sensation of having him inside her like this, at the deep slide of his fingers and the teasing curl of his fingertips for just a beat before retreating slowly, as if he couldn't bear to release her. Her heart raced, her blood began to boil. And when he twirled his fingers wickedly with each deep plunge—a moan tore from her.

“Is this the way you like it, brat?”

Is this the way…
She nodded wordlessly as her throat tightened with emotion. He thought she'd been touched like this before, that she was experienced enough to know what pleasures to ask for, what touches to demand. But she'd never done this, not even with Andrew. Grey was the first to share this wonderful new intimacy with her, making this night even more special.

“Or this?”

As his fingers continued their slow rhythm of plunge and retreat, his thumb delved into the top of her cleft and flicked against the sensitive bead buried there.

Her hips bucked against his hand. “Yes—oh yes!”

“Jesus,” he murmured at her violent reaction to so small a touch. “You're so responsive…”

“Grey,” she whimpered pleadingly, although she wasn't certain what she was begging him to do, except that her body craved more…more wanton caresses, more deep plunges, more of
him
.

He pressed his thumb against the pulsing nub again, but this time he didn't relent, not when her hips jerked nor when she shuddered against him. Not even when her knees buckled beneath her and the only thing keeping her from slipping back into the bath was his strong, unyielding arm around her waist. He rolled the sensitive point beneath his thumb until her entire body shook uncontrollably, until her sex tightened around his fingers—

The cry tore loose from deep inside her as she collapsed beneath the waves of delicious pleasure spreading out to envelop all of her. The exquisite clench and release inside her was more than she could bear, and she sank limply down his chest.

Catching her as she sank away, Grey lifted her into his arms. He carried her across the room and placed her gently onto the bed.

He stared down at her, and his breath caught at the glorious sight of her, lying naked and trembling with nervous anticipation for him to make love to her. Her red lips were swollen from his, and her breasts rose and fell tantalizingly with each panting breath. Emily, sweet Emily—she was beautiful, brilliant, strong…and tonight, she belonged to him.

He kissed her one more time, then moved away to stand at the edge of the bed and unfasten his trousers. Her gaze drifted down his body to linger beneath his waist, and she swallowed nervously. Evidence of his need for her already bulged against the fabric, only to stiffen more beneath the heat of her curious eyes. He knew she'd seen at least one naked man before, but she'd never seen him. Watching her face to witness her reaction to her first glimpse of him, he unfastened his trousers and pushed them down his legs to kick them off—

Her eyes darted up to his and stayed there, glued to his face.

Unmoving, he grinned with unabashed amusement at her sudden shyness. “Look at me, brat,” he ordered quietly.

“I am looking at you,” she returned, her eyes never leaving his.

Stubborn chit.
He almost laughed that his little seductress should suddenly turn so timid.

But when he saw how fiercely her body trembled, his amusement fled. “Emily,” he said gently, “please look at me. I want you to.”

Taking a deep breath, she tore her gaze away from his and down his body. Across his chest, along his front to his hips, then lower still…Her big blue eyes widened as her lips formed a silent
oh
of surprise. The honesty of the small reaction pleased him immeasurably. So did the way she shifted to lean toward him to get a better view and how the tip of her tongue darted out unconsciously to lick her lips.

Slowly, he stalked forward and crawled up the length of her. Possessive and predatory, he knelt over her on all fours, trapping her between his hands and knees and preparing to take the pleasures she offered. He'd warned her. He'd told her what kind of man he was and how he didn't plan on stopping with only a taste.

And now he planned on devouring her.

He dipped his head to sweep his tongue across her lips, to part them and plunge deeply inside, to taste the moist sweetness within and touch his tongue seductively to hers. She gasped at his bold plunder of her mouth and the rough domination of his lips and tongue. His mouth molded hotly against hers as his hands found her breasts to cup and squeeze her fullness, to roll her taut nipples between his fingers and thumb.

A soft whimper fell from her lips. It coursed hotly through him, straight down to the tip of his hard cock as it flexed between his thighs.

Leaving her gasping for breath, he tore his mouth away to nip and lick his way down her elegant throat to her collarbone, reveling in the sweetness of her skin and the heat of her flesh against his lips. Even now, he thought he smelled the sweet scent of cinnamon clinging to her, mixing with the musky scent of her arousal. A delectable perfume that only made him crave her more.

“You taste good,” he murmured as his mouth moved lower to take her nipple between his lips and suck. “Spicy and sweet…,” he whispered against her flesh. “Cinnamon and sugar.”

Then he laved her berry-ripe nipple like a boy licking sugar from a strawberry. With a moan, she breathed a wordless plea for him to bring his mouth harder against her. He gladly obliged, suckling at her as he fluttered his hand lightly across her other breast, tickling her nipple seductively with his palm.

As he worshipped at her breasts, she traced her hands hesitantly over his shoulders and down his chest. He groaned and took a deep breath to steady himself as her hands swept further downward, her fingertips fluttering over the ridges of his stomach. Then lower still…

She whispered, “Can I touch you?”

“Yes.” A thrill raced through him.
God yes.

When her fingertips brushed against the base of his cock, his entire body stiffened, tense and waiting, holding his breath. Her fingers gently traced down his hard length, tentative with light caresses, and he relaxed against her soft touch with a sigh.