Danger Wears White (24 page)

Frowning, he studied her. “I don’t understand.”

“Men want women in bed. It’s their nature. Is that all you want?”

His face cleared. “No.” He hold tightened on her chin. “Not that. Never that. I need you, Imogen. God, you’ve been driving me insane! Since I got to London all I could think of was having you again. When we’re close, my skin yearns for your touch, my arms feel empty. I married you because I wanted to own you, to make you mine. It was unforgivably selfish. I’m ashamed.”

“But I wanted you too. I still do. Is it selfish of me, too, then?”

A bitter smile curved his lips. “Two selfish people? We need to do something about that, don’t we?” He shook his head. “I tried to do the honorable thing. God knows I tried. But no more. Now you’re mine, and what I have, I keep.”

He allowed her no more words, but brought his mouth down hard over hers, ravenous and devouring. She moaned just as he did, their lips melding, their tongues tangling. He ate at her mouth, working it rhythmically, his movements reminding her of what they’d done before and what she longed to do again.

Her cleft dampened and became wetter, the tops of her thighs growing slick with the evidence of her desire for him. She rubbed them together to give herself a measure of relief.

He lifted his mouth from hers, but only just. The heat of his breath warmed her lips. “I could kiss you all night, but I want something else more. Feel me, Imogen.”

When he ground his lower body against hers, the ridge of his erection branded heat from his breeches through her robe to her belly. All too well she remembered what that hard rod felt like against her bare skin, the tip shiny and wet, the shaft hot, the skin delicate.

Guiding her across the room until the solid softness of the bed hit her buttocks and waist, he moved away far enough to unfasten the sash to her robe and the frogged fastenings at the top that were all that held it together. With a smile, he glanced down. “That shade of yellow is magnificent on you, but I prefer the creamy pink that lies beneath.”

Lifting her arms, she allowed him to drag off the brocade robe and the white linen night rail she wore underneath. Her slippers were easily kicked away. She was naked, unashamed. She wanted to flaunt herself before him, make him want her in a primitive feminine urge she didn’t know existed before.

He took her hands and stepped back, perusing her body with a hot need that tightened her nipples and tensed her muscles. Dark eyes became even darker; he released her and stripped, letting the robe fall to the floor, and then he dragged his shirt out of his breeches and over his head. She loved his chest with the sprinkling of dark hair that softened the slabs of muscle, but left his brown nipples bare. They were beaded, as if imitating her larger ones. To ease her ache a little, she cupped her breasts and squeezed her nipples.

A low groan punctuated her actions. “Little tease. You shall pay for that, my lady.”

Swooping down, he dragged her close until his chest hair abraded her nipples, and then bent to suck one of the tender morsels into his mouth, drawing on it hard enough to bring her some relief, but when he flicked his tongue on the tip, he only exacerbated her need. Jagged shards of longing arced from her breasts to her groin, and she cried his name, wanting more and not knowing how to ask.

With a rough laugh he lifted her, and as her breast left his mouth, he pushed her on to the bed, none too gently. He stripped off the remainder of his clothes and came to her, climbing up and over her where she lay on her back on the elaborately embroidered cover, the threads scratching her skin.

He pushed one hand under her and used it to lift her, dragging the cover away in a careless show of strength, and then laid her on the crisp linen sheets. “That silver thread will scratch you, and I don’t want you hurt, unless I’m the one doing it. For every sting I give you I will bring you ten times as much pleasure. Talk to me, Imogen, tell me what you need.

“How, when I don’t know what I want?” Tentatively she touched his shaft, the hard rod earning its nickname of cock, the word crisp and descriptive.

He groaned. “Not too much, sweetheart. I’ll go off too early.” Placing a hand by her head, he lifted up and met her wondering gaze. “No more withdrawal. I want to come deep inside you, to feel that wet, sweet heat engulf me and take me to paradise.” As he waited for her answer, his disparaging half smile told her what he thought of his own poesy.

“Yes, I want that too. Very much. Am I ready?”

“Find out. Touch yourself. Let me watch you do it.”

Imogen caught her breath on a gasp. He meant it, but could she? She’d discovered that knot of flesh at the apex of her cleft that brought her temporary relief. Could she do this with him watching?

Yes, yes she could, because he wanted her to. Slowly she cupped her breast, pushed it up so it thrust out at him, and then slid her hand down her body, over her still flat stomach, the indentation of her navel. Spiking her fingers, she combed through the thatch of curls at her groin, taking her wetness on to her fingertip. She had never felt herself so wet before. Although sure she was ready, she continued, stroking the nub, gasping at the intensity of sensation before exploring further. The lips that protected her most secret places were hot and swollen, sensitive to her gentle touch, and her opening filled with her juices. She dipped a finger inside, exploring.

Tony slid to one side of her, lying next to her, watching what she was doing, tension of a different kind tautening the skin on his face. Greatly daring, she lifted the leg farthest from him and propped her heel on the bed sheets, opening her body for his avid perusal.

She tried another finger. It felt good, the walls of her inner channel opening slowly, soft and wet, trickling out to slide between her buttocks with shocking sensitivity.

When she moaned, he murmured her name. “Imogen, you are perfect. An angel of sensuality. Watching you explore yourself like that makes me wild. I want to take you, thrust hard inside you until you scream for mercy, and then fill you to the brim. You are so beautiful. Everywhere. That delicate pink skin, the scent of you—I cannot have done anything in my life to deserve this. You’re mine, do you hear?”

His fierceness shocked and excited her. She’d always sensed this possessiveness about him, and now he was giving it free rein. She loved it.

Climbing over her, he dragged her hand away, even though she whimpered, wanting more. Wanting to drive him crazy with it.

“Another time,” he said, as if he knew what she was thinking, then he was on her, kneeing her thighs apart, urging her to lift her legs, and making a place for his body between her thighs.

His cock probed her, pushed, and he was in her, driving in to his balls. He drew out and thrust in again, meeting little resistance, her body accepting and enclosing him. Claiming him as he was conquering her.

This close she saw every flaw and every perfection. A scar ran from his ear down his neck. Not a deep one, just a thin white line. He had another tiny one above his eyebrow. Fascinated, she wanted to draw along the lines with her finger, claim him for her own, every part of him. All sense of time and place disappeared when he thrust again, and again.

“Tony!”

“I’m here. Always here.” Bending his head, he kissed her, thrusting his tongue deep, ravenously taking her as she arched her body up and into his, needing as much of his shaft inside her as possible.

They were back. Tony and Emmy, two people living in each other, with each other. Nothing else mattered.

His balls drummed against her lower buttocks when she lifted her legs and wrapped them securely around his waist, dragging him into her. Imogen determined not to let him go until she’d found that distant goal he’d helped her to discover before. It lay there, just out of reach. Each thrust brought her closer. Ripples of sensation rose higher, encompassed her, until she cried into his mouth and he pulled away. He bared his teeth as he growled her name, exhorting her to higher levels. “Come, damn you!”

Even now he could make her laugh, but he jarred it out of her when he drove her up, to oblivion. Delight crested over her, froze her muscles, and struck directly to the very heart of her. Her channel pulsed against him, clenching as if determined never to let him go, and with a sharp, wordless cry, his cock throbbed and he came.

The concluding flutters of her orgasm left her weak, helpless to do anything but clutch him. With a series of kisses to her mouth, her cheeks, and her throat, he reached his hand down to loosen her legs’ grip on his waist, persuading her to lower them so he could withdraw from her. He nipped her throat, and then back to her mouth, his kisses more soothing than arousing.

They hadn’t even got as far as the pillows, but lay sideways on the big bed. She sighed and threaded her fingers through his hair as he kissed and licked her skin. “That was better than before.”

He came up on one elbow, smiling, as relaxed and happy as she’d ever seen him. “We have more room. Wait until I get my breath back.”

Laughing weakly, she pulled him down for a kiss. “How could you not want this?”

“It wasn’t a matter of not wanting. It was a matter of wanting too much.” He rolled to one side and moved to the top of the bed, urging her to join him. She went gladly into his arms, and he reached down to pull the covers over them. The maid had left the fire, though banked down, but the night was chilly. His body warmed her as she flicked out her tongue to claim a taste of his salty skin.

“I backed away from you because I told myself I couldn’t retain control.” He kissed her nose, her mouth, small fairy kisses that teased. “I hate to lose control. Hated. You just taught me to trust myself with you. I never would have done that if you hadn’t called me back, and for that I’m truly sorry.”

“I don’t understand. I taught you nothing.”

He came back up and met her gaze so frankly it took her breath away. “I watched you as you came. You gave yourself up to me, trusted me to care for you. Only then can we achieve what we need. I had to do the same when it was my turn, otherwise something would always remain between us. So I trusted you.”

“Oh.”

He kissed her, and tiring of discussions, she hooked her arm around his neck and deepened the kiss. That she had the courage to touch him and demand things from him, inexperienced though she was, spoke to how far they’d come since they’d entered this room.

He drew away, smiling. “One thing. There are two dressing rooms attached to this room and a boudoir, but only one bedroom. Until we find an establishment of our own, I’m afraid we have to share a bed.” He didn’t seem concerned.

She wasn’t in the least perturbed. She clicked her tongue. “Such a shame!”

Laughing softly, he dropped a kiss on her forehead. He was making up for the dearth of kisses in one go. “We must endeavor to make the most of it. I was planning to sleep elsewhere. Not now. You have me here, and I do not intend to go anywhere. What should you like to do now?”

Reaching down, she touched his shaft, expecting to find it sleeping. She knew enough about males to know they could not perform endlessly. But to her surprise it was far from quiescent, in a half-hard state already. It twitched when she touched it, seemingly leaping into her hand. Although that was fanciful, the idea appealed to her. Perhaps she could make it leap in less convenient circumstances, tease him a little. Her heart lighter, she felt more able to cope with the trials that lay ahead for them.

“Can we just go into the country and forget everything else?”

“Is that what you truly want?”

She nodded. “To be what I was. Perhaps a little more. With you.”

He cradled her breast, returning her caresses in his own way. She relaxed into his hold, letting warmth seep through her. “I confess, that sounds tempting. I’ve traveled enough, seen enough to relish a quiet life in the country. Not entirely, though. I want some opportunities to show off my beautiful wife.” He stopped her protests with a kiss. “Whoever told you that you weren’t beautiful was lying. Whether you realize it or not, you’re an accredited beauty. The caricaturists are going into a frenzy, but I wouldn’t recommend you seek out the results. The gossip sheets are speculating about you, who you’ll marry and so on.”

“They’ll know now.”

He paused, his hand stilling in its actions. “Yes, they will, and I can’t be sorry for it. We might not have announced our intentions or married with a fanfare, but we are sharing the same room and we haven’t appeared outside it for two days.”

“I’m glad.”

Smiling, he kissed her again. “So am I. We’ll just wait here until Julius returns to town, shall we?”

She snuggled closer. “If he finds that document, I want it burned. I don’t care. I don’t want to be a political pawn and I’m not interested in power brokering. As far as I’m concerned it brings nothing.”

Silence followed, and then a long sigh. “Are you sure?”

“Why? Do you want me to become the center of intrigue?”

He cinched her tighter. Even his cock grew limper. “No! It leads to broken dreams and promises, a lifetime’s obsession with something impossible or near unobtainable.”

“And hurt to everyone concerned.” That was her main concern. If stepping up and claiming her parentage would do any good at all, she’d do it, but she couldn’t see how that would benefit anyone.

“Indeed.” He relaxed his hold. “We will burn it and anything that comes with it. You are now Mrs. Beaumont.”

She grimaced. “Soon to be the Countess of Hollinhead, if the king makes good on his promise.”

“You object to that?”

Not having considered the issue before, she did so now. “I’d thought my father’s title gone forever, tainted. But I had forgotten the people before him. I would like to try remaking it, giving it the honor back that it used to hold. No, I don’t mind. The decision must be yours.”

“Then I’ll accept.” A slow smile crept over his face and his eyes glowed. “Lord, what this will do to my brother, I don’t know. I’ll outrank him!”

“Will it create trouble?” She didn’t want that. She wanted no more trouble, ever again.