Invitation to Ruin (26 page)

Ignoring the puddles Anthony was forming on the floor, Stevens ventured, “I have directed Thompson to draw you a bath.”

Anthony’s mood lifted. “As usual you are one step ahead of me.” He turned to head up the stairs, but an umpf from the butler stalled his movement. Raising an eyebrow at Stevens, Anthony waited.

“Lady Wickham was inquiring as to your plans for this evening.”

Stevens’ face remained apathetic. Was that a hint of disapproval
in his tone? Surely not. “You know my plans. I will be going to my club tonight.”

“Perhaps you might personally let the Countess know your plans for the evening, my lord.”

That was definite censor he heard. “Are you telling me how to converse with my wife, Stevens?”

He bowed. “I would never presume to do such a thing, my lord.”

Anthony pulled at his sodden cuffs. “I should think not. You may inform my wife that I shall be dining at my club and won’t be in until late.” Not waiting to see the disappointment he knew would be reflected in Stevens’ eyes, Anthony took the stairs two at a time. “Tell her not to wait up.”

He rushed toward his bedchamber like a fox avoiding the hounds. Relief washed through him when he closed the door behind him and he was safe in his inner sanctuary.

Thompson was in his retiring room seeing to his bath. Anthony could see the steam rising. He waited for Thompson to help him undress all the while conscious of the guilt eating at his innards. Stevens was right. He had been ignoring his wife.

He inwardly cursed at the growing need to avoid her. Even now, he could feel the pull of attraction, the constant drumming of desire to take his pleasure of her. She was a woman of absolutely no sexual experience, yet she had his passions in such a stir. He awoke each morning hard as a steel blade, dreaming of going to her bed and taking that which by law was now his. The temptation she posed was perilous.

Melissa was too intelligent for her own good. She would work out, if she hadn’t already, that he was deliberately avoiding her. With a twinge he recognized he admired that about her. She was independent and could think for herself. It only added to her allure. But it also added to the danger.

Of all the females he knew, she was unquestionably the most difficult to handle. She hid behind a wall of calm detachment. He never knew quite what she was thinking. She was never ruffled by his harsh comments or inexcusable behavior. Most wives would have, at the very least, sniped at
him for his boorish behavior. But not Melissa. She still smiled politely at him across the breakfast table and did not censor him in any way for his lack of attention. He was not sure if that didn’t anger him more. Did she not want his attentions? Most women he knew would go through the fires of hell to end up in his bed.

A flare of angry heat scorched his skin. Unless she was receiving plenty of attention elsewhere. Perhaps Lord Dashell was top of her mind.

With a weary sigh of surrender, he knew he would have to speak with her—tell her his position and set the ground rules for this marriage. But that would mean being in her company. It would mean smelling the flowery scent that sent his pulse galloping. He would be able to study her lush curves, picturing what lay underneath her clothes. He would be in torment, looking but not being able to touch. He wasn’t at all sure what that would do to his sanity.

As he lowered himself into the tub, he vowed to have the conversation first thing tomorrow morning. It would be best if she was sent to Bressington. Out of sight, God willing, would help get her out of his head. He might finally be able to sleep. His libido couldn’t take too many more nights under the same roof. Already the Lord of Wicked was screaming to take, plunder, and taste her. She must leave as soon as possible.

He relaxed deep into the tub; the lull of the heated water was invigorating to a man so bone-weary he could hardly lift his arms to wash them. He’d not slept the last four nights, his dreams of Melissa making him so hard he was in agony. He needed all his willpower not to slip into her bed and sate his lust.

He needed a woman, but the thought of any woman other than Melissa made him flaccid.

With eyes closed, he pictured the vision that was Melissa. His member hardened with thoughts of how her body had fit his. He’d had her in his arms, his member held tightly in her
hot, wet sheath. The feel and scent of her had him imagining touching heaven.

His hand curled around his throbbing cock. Ever since she’d moved into his house he’d had to resort to self-pleasure in order to keep the beast at bay. He’d tried to find release at Madame Sabine’s, but none of the ladies enticed him—only one—only Melissa.

He stroked himself, imagining Melissa riding him, hard, deep, and furiously. Her breasts bouncing above him. His hands gripping her hips, his eyes watching as his hard, thick shaft disappeared into her wet folds.

So caught up in his fantasy of ravishing Melissa—her luscious breasts in his mouth while his thick, throbbing shaft drove her wild with desire—he missed the soft footsteps approaching.

“Don’t let me interrupt, although it would be my pleasure to aid you in your endeavors.”

His eyes opened on a groan. Through his haze of passion, he took in the sight of her standing next to the tub, clad in red transparent silk. He froze and fractured. The luscious sight before him sent his hot seed erupting like an overactive volcano.

“Christ!”

He struggled for control, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. The scarlet—negligee—left nothing to the imagination. Her breasts were pushed up, exposing the soft swell of creamy skin, and her nipples stood rigid, poking through the scrap of lace supposedly covering them. He could see every curve … see the thatch of dark curls at the top of her long slender legs. The delicacy of prime womanhood displayed before him immediately had him hardening again.

Her voice was the sound of the sweetest symphony. “I’m sorry about the intrusion, but I thought it time we discussed our marriage. At least in the bath you cannot escape me by storming out of the house.”

S
till mortified with shame, Melissa lifted her chin a degree higher. She did not miss the activity he’d been engaged in when she entered the room. Anthony would rather pleasure himself than make love to her.

Why?

Yet at the sight of his wet, muscled, naked body, sensations rippled through Melissa in a tangle of unthinking passion, overriding her hurt and anger.

She’d watched him in the act with heat and moisture growing between her thighs. He’d had his eyes closed, his head thrown back, and Melissa wondered who he dreamed of when he stroked himself to completion. She prayed it wasn’t Cassandra. No doubt it was one of the demireps at his favorite sin club since it was obvious he did not want her.

He jerked upright in the bath; his passion-hazed gaze struck her. She felt its impact, felt the dark, heated intensity of his eyes locking on her. A searing heat sliced along her limbs at the rampant desire hidden in their depths. She quivered from head to toe.

He licked his lips. “What are you doing in here?” His voice was rough, like gravel crunching underfoot.

Melissa’s anger returned with a rush. She swallowed it along with her pride. This was not the way she’d planned this seduction. He was not supposed to have given himself release. She was supposed to entice, tease, and he was supposed
to be made so hot and needy, he’d take her regardless of his lack of enthusiasm.

Melissa stepped forward until she could see clearly into the tub. She bent forward, placing her hands on the rim, causing her breasts to fall free and the negligee to part to her waist, displaying her legs right up to her mound. She heard his sharp intake of breath.

She reached out and ran one finger from his firm lips, over his chin, down his throat and chest. “I want my husband,” she whispered sultrily.

He stopped her hand before it dipped below the water, but she could see his member stirring into life at her touch. Interesting. She was having an effect on him.

“Why are you dressed in this manner?” He held her hand tighter. “You look like a whore.”

His freezing tone made her cringe. Without raising her voice she calmly stated, “As you seem to be spending every night since our marriage with whores, I thought perhaps you preferred them.”

Melissa was surprised by the flicker of remorse that briefly entered his eyes. But then his lips firmed, and he pushed her hand away from him.

“Who I prefer is my own business. You don’t need to act the whore for me.” His voice softened for the last sentence and contained a hint of apology in the tone.

She moved closer until her breasts were practically in his face. “But I do have your attention now, don’t I?”

His eyes stayed fixed on her breasts. He rasped, “Yes. You have my attention. However, my valet will be returning shortly and I don’t want him to see my wife displayed like some doxy.”

She dipped her hand into the water, sliding her fingers over his rippling stomach and down toward his now straining erection. He did not stop her this time.

“I have told Thompson not to disturb us until you ring for him.” His member jerked into her hand as her fingers grazed over the head of his cock.

His eyes briefly closed. His voice hoarse and choking. “Stop. Don’t do this. I have to get dressed. I’m wanted at the club.”

Her fingers wrapped firmly around him, and his body stiffened. He leaned back against the tub. She purred in his ear, her naked breasts hitting his rock-hard chest. A thrill surged through her blood at the contact of her hard nipples against the rasping black hair of his chest.

“There is no hurry. I checked with Stevens. You are not due at the club for another hour at least.”

His eyes opened wide at her words. His tempting mouth only inches from hers.

   Anthony didn’t have time to think. The kiss was so unexpected that he was responding before he even realized. He couldn’t help himself. He was instantly enveloped in her—in her scent, in the feel of her small hand wrapped firmly around the most intimate part of him. In the heat of her body, so close her nipples scorched his chest. In the taste of her as she parted his lips with an insistent urging.

The kiss deepened as her other hand roamed over his body. Something stirred inside him as she pushed against him, her breasts flattened against his chest.

A fire erupted deep within him. His body craved this, yearned for it, begged him for it.

He turned slightly and pulled her into the tub. Her mouth broke from his, and she gasped as she slipped into the warm water, her negligee molding to her skin.

Good God, he was kissing her. He
was kissing her
. He should stop. Stop before he lost himself in her charms and destroyed himself and her along with him.

He gripped her arms and held her away from him. She sat staring at him with eyes liquid pools of desire, water running over her hardened nipples, her thigh pressed against his erection.

He could not believe he’d allowed the kiss to happen, let alone that he’d pulled her into the tub. She’d planned her
move well, he admitted admiringly. She had him at a distinct disadvantage.

He couldn’t hide the evidence of his need. This was madness. A dark passion filled, riotous sort of madness, the type that could ruin all his plans for the future.

Anthony looked down at Melissa’s wet, luscious body. It had taken every ounce of his strength to break the delicious kiss. His hands remained like shackles on her arms, simply because he didn’t trust himself not to pull her up to straddle him and sink into her tight heat. She was as intoxicating and succulent as a fresh strawberry. The heady mixture of innocence and sensuality had his groin once again throbbing with need.

Despite his intentions otherwise, he was powerfully attracted to her, powerfully aroused, and powerfully fearful of what might happen next.

He was breathing hard, as was she. Desire swirled around them, rising to engulf them like the steam from the heated water.

Damn her.

Melissa was beautiful, unconsciously sensual, intelligent—too intelligent for his liking, and not about to be pushed aside without an explanation. His eyes roamed her flushed face. He could feel the tremble of her body beneath his fingertips, see the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

She was struggling to maintain her composure. Ordinarily he would be ecstatic. To have a beautiful, sensual woman in his arms, naked, willing to sate his every need. No wonder his body was reacting as if he’d never seen a naked woman before.

Anthony silently cursed. He steeled himself and lifted a hand to Melissa’s chin, then raised her face from her study of his body to meet his gaze. She dropped her hands to his chest and challenged him with a look of pure carnal delight.

Through the heat of her stare and the warmth from the bathwater, he felt his body chill. He pushed her roughly toward the other end of the tub and rose from the water.

He stared down at her face, which was flashing anger, hurt, and most of all disbelief.

“I can see you want me,” she said, nodding to his erection, which stood proudly against his stomach. “What on earth is wrong?”

He stepped from the tub and grabbed a towel to hide the evidence of his need. “This is not the time or place to discuss such matters …”

She dropped her head and her voice wobbled. “It’s me. There is something wrong with me.”

Bloody hell, he was a cad. She thought there was something wrong with her. He was such a coward, and now he’d upset her. All he’d really wanted to do was keep her away so he could resist the temptation of her abundant charms. How could she think it was her?

Anthony let out an oath. Melissa gave a heart-wrenching sob. He felt like a piece of turd stuck on his boot. “There is nothing wrong with you, Melissa. You are a beautiful woman. You can see I desire you.”

She shook her head. “I should not have interrupted you. I just thought … didn’t you enjoy the kiss?”

Her gaze flew to his. The pleading look in her eyes hurt more than his aching need for release. He could do it now. He could destroy her with a simple word and never have to worry about fending her off again.