For Desire Alone (6 page)

She hesitated as he dragged her inside.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He hesitated. “Taking you home,” he finally admitted and she caught her breath in surprise and a desire that seemed to flame up from nowhere.

“I thought you were finished with me,” she said softly.

He stared at her for a long moment. “Apparently not.”

Chapter Five

Mariah had been curiously quiet on the drive through the busy city streets to his London townhome. He had expected her to resist, argue, perhaps even try to bolt…a dozen things except what she was doing—sitting across from him in the carriage, arms folded and face utterly unreadable. Her stare was only made more uncomfortable by her absolute silence. He had no idea what she thought about his sudden intrusion into Vivien’s party, his sweeping her away or his forcefulness when it came to Lord Rossington.

His blood boiled at just the thought of the man. When he stepped onto the terrace to find Mariah fighting to get free from the other man’s unwanted embrace, something in him had snapped, as it hadn’t since…well, for a great many years. He could have killed the viscount in that moment. Only a great deal of restraint and common sense kept him from doing so. Being transported was not a pleasant future and he had no interest in it happening.

His footman opened the door to the carriage and Mariah took the hand he offered before John could exit the rig. She swept up the stairs as if she owned the place and past his gaping butler, Swanson. She had been to John’s home with Owen many a time and moved into a parlor without asking his leave.

Despite the situation, John couldn’t help but smile at her boldness and he lifted a hand to show Swanson that this odd turn of events was acceptable to him.

“No interruptions,” he said to the man. “Thank you.”

He shut the door firmly behind him and turned to speak to Mariah. Instead, she folded her arms and began the conversation herself.

“John, you do vex me,” she said.

John blinked. “I—I beg your pardon?”

She shook her head and paced to the sideboard where she poured herself a scotch and took a sip. She grimaced at the strength of the liquor and continued.

“While I do appreciate the sentiment behind your little rescue this afternoon, your heavy-handedness cannot be borne.”

John blinked. “I believe it was more than a ‘little rescue’. That man had intentions—”

She tilted her head. “Indeed, he did. And they were far less than honorable. I had already told the viscount no and he did not seem to understand that word, especially coming from a person who he would deem…actually
did
deem…a whore.”

She said the words so very calmly, but John could see from the brief flash in her eyes how deeply those words cut her.

“Still, I do not think I was in any
true
danger,” she continued. “After all, the parlor was a mere three feet away and Vivien would have come to rescue me eventually.”

“
Eventually
,” John repeated blankly. “How can you dismiss what was about to happen so easily? That man would have raped you had he had the chance.”

She flinched and it took her a few seconds to respond. “I suppose that could have happened, yes. But my virtue was sold away years ago. What happens to my body has less effect now than it once would have.”

John stared, eyes wide. “That is the worst fucking thing I have ever heard. You are
not
a whore, no matter what he said. Even if you were, no man has a right to force himself on you in such a manner. It is disgusting.”

She lifted her eyebrows delicately. “I appreciate that you think highly enough of me to believe I have a right to decide what my path and who my lover should be. I hope there are more men out there like you. But honestly, John, you are the last person who should have ridden to my rescue today. You were not invited to Vivien’s gathering, for one.”

He pursed his lips. That was true. When he burst into the parlor, Vivien had appeared quite annoyed with him. Despite that fact, she hadn’t stopped him when he’d gone racing to the veranda, nor interfered when he swept Mariah away like the Gothic hero of some ridiculous novel.

“Secondarily, and perhaps more importantly…” Mariah hesitated. “You have made it more than clear that you do not want me.”

John blinked. Had those words just come from her mouth? Did she truly believe that after he had spent three days pleasuring himself to forget her, thinking of her constantly, and then racing to her side like a forlorn puppy?

“I don’t want you,” he repeated with a shake of his head.

He didn’t think of what he did next. It was all instinct and drive that made him clench his fists and storm across the room to her. He caught her arms, drew her against him and kissed her.

She was still for a moment, but then she made a muffled groan. Her arms came up around his neck and she lifted herself against him, driving her tongue to meet his. He felt and tasted her desire. Her surrender. It was heady and sweet against his lips. He wanted so much more of it.

Without his saying so, she obliged. Her hips began to lift in a slow, steady rhythm against his and he was lost. He pushed her backward until they hit the wall next to the window.

He cupped her backside to lift her against him and she moaned as their eyes met. He smiled and began to slowly shift his weight against her in slow, sensual circles. She shivered and he could tell he was hitting her in just the right spot to make her wet with wanting, a theory he was very excited to test. But not yet.

Instead, he continued holding her against him with one hand and with the other he found her breast. She gasped and her back arched as he cupped her. He hadn’t stripped her of her gown the last time they made love. Everything had been so heated and fast in Vivien’s parlor that he wouldn’t have been able to wait.

Now he could and he wanted to see her naked. He wanted to feel the full softness of her body pressed to his and watch the way her skin flushed and her nipples pebbled when he worked her in this way and that.

He released her and swiftly turned her to face the wall. She gasped, but lifted her backside against him with another moan of pleasure as her hands fisted and flexed against his wallpaper. He leaned forward to press a kiss to the back of her neck, suckling her tender flesh as he flicked open the buttons of her gown.

He pushed the gown forward and she gave him enough space that he was able to strip it to her waist, followed swiftly by the sheer chemise she wore beneath. Then he turned her back toward him and stared to his heart’s delight.

Mariah’s dark auburn hair was complemented perfectly by her pale skin. Her breasts were the ideal size to fill his hands and their peaks were topped with pink nipples that were currently swollen and hard with desire.

He leaned forward and sucked one into his mouth. Mariah’s hands slid into his hair and she held him steady as she gasped and moaned in time to his tongue. He swirled it around the bud, laving and sucking, nipping and gently scraping his teeth over the peak.

She mumbled an indiscernible sound of pleasure and shimmied her hips out of the remainder of her gown so that she stood utterly naked before him.

He was undone. His cock throbbed against his trousers and his whole body was poised, ready to explode.

“Some day the time will come when I will take my time with you,” he promised. “I’m certain at some point this madness that steals my control will cease.”

Mariah’s lips parted in surprise at his statement. John was known for his restraint with lovers—how could it be that
she
stole that from him? She might have asked, but at that moment John stripped his shirt over his head and shucked his boots and trousers off. She could scarcely breathe, let alone speak, as she stared at him.

They were naked together. She never would have dreamed that would ever happen. But here they were. He stepped forward and dragged her against him. His mouth came to hers again, rough and demanding, but utterly and sinfully pleasurable. She lost herself when he tasted her, sucking her tongue like he had laved her tingling nipple.

He lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his hips without any urging. For a brief moment, time was suspended there. She pressed against the wall, his cock poised and hard at her entrance, she drew back and stared at him, their eyes locked.

And then time moved again and he thrust deep within her. She was so wet and ready that he encountered no resistance. Pleasure tore at her as he breached her for the second time in just a few days. Pleasure just as intense and overwhelming as it had been the first time they were in this position.

He cupped her tightly and she clung to his shoulders until her nails bit into his skin as he began to thrust. Almost immediately the grind of his pelvis against her clitoris had pressure and pleasure burning in her. She gasped, clinging to him as her hips jerked out of control.

The orgasm hit like a storm out of nowhere. It was violent and powerful, stealing her breath, her voice, her ability to control her body. John thrust through it, giving her no mercy as she called out his name again and again.

Just when she thought it was over, just when her body’s trembling subsided a fraction, he strained, his thrusts becoming erratic, and with a growl, his cock pumped within her. The feel of him bursting inside of her blew her over the precipice she was so delicately balanced upon and she came a second time, this time a smaller, gentler version of her earlier explosive burst.

For a long time, they leaned against the wall, foreheads pressed together, breathing matched. They were one body, bound by the passion they’d shared. Mariah didn’t think she’d felt so close to a lover before.

As if he sensed those deeper thoughts, John kissed her cheek with such gentleness that it brought tears to her eyes and withdrew from her.

The loss of their intertwined bodies left Mariah bereft, but she said nothing and instead began to look around for her long ago discarded gown. John dressed himself swiftly, but her dress and underthings were more complicated. She stepped into the gown and then looked at him from the corner of her eye.

“Er, could you?” she asked, suddenly shy and awkward around a man she had not only called friend for years, but who had just soundly fucked her against a parlor wall.

“Of course,” he said and turned her so her back was to him.

Mariah was glad not to face him. He was so disconcerting to her now. They had been friends, except not. They were now lovers…except not. She never knew what to expect from him when once he had been such a steadfast part of her life.

“Have I proven you wrong?” he asked softly as he fastened the last button.

“Wrong?” she repeated, her brain too foggy from release to fathom what he could mean.

He chuckled and the deep sound reverberated through her sensitive body. “You said I didn’t want you. Have I proven you wrong?”

She turned to look at him. “I—I suppose it is evident you
do
want me after all,” she conceded with a shrug. “But you do not want to be my protector.”

His smile fell and he turned to look out the window. He was quite for a long moment, then he muttered, “I’m no one’s protector, trust me, Mariah.”

Once again, Mariah sensed his anger. That was twice in just a handful of days, when she had never felt such strong emotion from him before.

She longed to know why this topic inspired such an intense reaction, but was in no position to ask him. They were not in a relationship, despite this second surrender to desire. Even if they were, that kind of intimacy could only lead to heartache. She refused to develop feelings for any man she took to her bed again.

She shrugged off her desire to know more and said, “Then what
do
you want, John? Because I cannot for the life of me fathom your secret plans.”

He sat down on the settee and rubbed his eyes. “You and I have known each other for a great many years, Mariah,” he said. “I will be as honest with you as I am able, for I feel you deserve that, especially after Owen’s deceptive actions.”

Mariah flinched at the reminder, but then nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate the respect honesty implies more than you know.”

“Please sit.” He motioned to the chair near him.

She took it and watched as he rang for tea.

It was amazing. They had just wrapped themselves around each other, coupled with wild, animal abandon and now the servants brought in a service as if nothing had happened. As if this were a normal little meeting between friends.

The servants left and John motioned for her to pour. She did so, sweetening his tea just as she remembered he liked it. As he took a sip, he smiled.

“Mariah, I want to admit to you that I have desired you greatly,” he said as he set his cup down.

Mariah had just taken a sip of her own tea and began to choke on the contents with surprise at his admission. Once she had regained her breath, she stared at him.

“I beg your pardon?”

He nodded. “From the first moment I saw you, I wanted you. It was the night of the Nethercourt gathering three years ago. You wore a green gown and your eyes seemed to be alive with color. You entered the room and I had to have you… I would have had you, except that Owen told me you were his new mistress.”