No Regrets (41 page)

   He lifted his mouth a fraction, his lips grazing hers as he spoke. "You must tell me to stop right now, if that is your wish. If you wait a moment longer, it will be too late."

   Lucas didn't want to stop. He wasn't entirely sure he could. But honor forced the words from his lips. He never wanted to let her go again, but if she insisted, he would. He could not force her to want him, the way he needed her.

   He searched the depths of her golden eyes for permission and found rampant desire.

   He picked her up and reveled in the weight of her full, ripe body. "God, you are gorgeous."

   She laughed, all smiles and air and rustling silk, her form fitting perfectly in the curve of his arms. "Flatterer."

   It seemed he'd said the right thing for a change.

   How lucky could he get in one day? First, she was still here, when he was sure she would have gone long ago. And now she was but four short steps from his bedchamber.

   She clung to him as he freed one hand to fling open the door. He kicked it closed, locking his mouth with hers before her feet touched the floor. He would not give her a moment to change her mind.

   He pressed her close, tasting and kissing and melding against her enchanting softness until he wasn't sure where he ended and she began.

   Feverishly seeking the fastenings of her gown, his fingers felt stiff and awkward as if he'd not done this a hundred times, not that he'd had any practice since he got married.

   His blood thickened at the feel of her hips pressing against his thigh and her fingers twined in his hair. And he couldn't get the damn gown undone.

   Finally, the last button succumbed. He paused a moment to savor the feel of her mouth against his, to plumb the honeyed depths, to absorb the tiny welcoming purrs from the back of her throat. Her sounds of pleasure soothed his torn and bleeding heart. How long he had yearned to make her his own. He pushed the gown over her shoulders and slid it down to her waist. It dropped to the floor with a whisper.

   He stood back, holding her shoulders, devouring the sight of her magnificent bosom rising in creamy swells above her shift and stays. The dull gray light from the window beyond outlined her lush form, the curve of her waist and the curve of womanly hips.

   As if suddenly conscious of her nakedness, she wrapped her arms across her body, hiding, the way she hid behind shawls and ruffles. Now she would tell him to stop. His cock pulsed a protest.

   "Caro, do not do that." His voice sounded hoarse.

   A startled expression crossed her face, her breasts rising and falling with each ragged breath. "What?"

   A broken laugh erupted from his chest. "You are spoiling my view. Let me see you."

   Scarlet cheeked, she averted her face, but let her hands drop.

   His heart soared at her boldness as he drank in the view of her voluptuously firm breasts veiled by the sheerest of linen chemises above her stays and the enticing dark triangle set in smooth rounded hips.

   Caro took courage from the admiration in his eyes and dared to reach up and run her hand across his brow, sweeping a dark lock off his forehead. She wanted to feel him against her, warm and vibrant, the husband she would give up. Just once, she wanted him to belong to her.

   She ran a tentative hand down his back, feeling the strength of his torso, hard muscles rippling under her touch, hot through the fabric of his fine lawn shirt. She yanked it free of his waistband, and he pulled it off over his head and tossed it aside with a hiss of in-drawn breath.

   Then he smiled, lopsided and wicked, teasing and promising, his dark eyes alight with a fire she had kindled. It made her feel hot and shaky. She smiled back.

   "Turn around," he growled. She complied. Swift fingers tore at the strings of her stays. Her heart thumped in her chest. Would he turn away like before?

   As she turned with deep trepidation to face him, he captured her face in his hands and kissed her hard and deep. She poured her soul into returning the favor.

   Gentle and tender, he picked her up and deposited her on his bed. She stretched out, leaving herself open, vulnerable to his gaze and his touch, flushed, but daring his scorn for this one chance to be loved. Risking ridicule.

   She forced herself not to grab for the covers.

   His mouth began a long slow seduction of her body, a kiss at her collarbone, light licks between her breasts, a swirling tongue around her fabric-covered nipples. They sprang to attention, demanding his notice.

   Liquid fire ran through her limbs, leaving them boneless. Trembling, her hands slid down the length of his warm, silken back, caressing and gliding over muscles of steel.

   He raised his dark head with a mischievous smile and ran one finger under the edge of her chemise. A cocked eyebrow asked for permission. She managed a nod of assent.

   First he grabbed the tie in his teeth and tugged the bow undone with a growl.

   She laughed, and he grinned. He eased the straps over each shoulder, one at a time, and down over each breast. She watched his expression as he cupped her flesh in his hands, weighing and measuring. A strained look filled his face. "Perfect," he breathed.

   "Perfectly enormous," she quipped, suddenly fearful.

   "Perfectly, gloriously gorgeous," he murmured, his eyes filled with awe. "A gift from the gods. Do you not understand that the sight of such beauty leaves me speechless?"

   Beauty. She read truth in his beloved face.

   Although it seemed to please her, Lucas thought the word far too weak to describe her lush figure. A gift from the gods indeed.

   The creamy flesh of her bountiful breasts was softer than a feather pillow, smoother than the finest silk. They overflowed his palms. His cock hardened at the sight. He nuzzled into the valley between them, losing his mind at the feel of her firm, warm flesh against his cheeks. How long had he wanted to be here, reveling in the glory of a body made for love?

   He nibbled and licked his way to one dark budded peak, groaning as it furled tighter at a touch from his tongue. He kissed and suckled and drew as much as he could into his mouth and there was still more to knead and to worship with his hands.

   He glanced up at her mewl of pleasure, saw the liquid heat in her gaze, felt her hands grip his shoulders convulsively in a silent plea for more. He almost lost control. The desire to lose himself deep inside her, to sink into her softness, to greedily suck at her nipples until she screamed for release beat hard in his blood.

   But he had waited too long for this moment. And to rush headlong to the culmination of pleasure would be the worst kind of betrayal. If he could not say the words that would lay his soul bare, he could try to show her with his mouth and his hands, his adoration of a body that had tormented his dreams and his love for a wife whose loss had left his days feeling empty and his nights cold.

   They had always been friends, but this was his chance to demonstrate his desire and want and, if he dare, his deep-seated need.

   He rose over her, bending to meld his mouth with hers. She parted her lips to his kiss with such sweetness it made his heart ache. He deepened the kiss with a thrust of his tongue, his joy darkened by longing.

   His heart leaped as she responded to him with a need of her own, her hands clenching in his hair, dragging at his scalp. The pain tightened the pull at his loins.

   He ran his palm over her distended nipples, rolled them in thumb and forefinger, heard her sigh of pleasure, and filled his hand with her ample, delicious flesh before trailing into the dip of waist beneath her ribs and over the curve of her sweetly rounded belly, beneath the sheer fabric of her chemise. He rubbed gently, caressing the soft yielding flesh before dipping one finger into the deep crevasse of her naval.

   Erotic.

   Lust jolted his control. He had to see all of her. "Caro," he breathed. "This has to go."

   His thigh, hot, heavy, and rough with hair, lay heavy on Caro's. His sculpted chest pressed against her breasts. She buried her face in the curve of his neck. But shyness could not stop her need, and she dared to peek.

   Fascinated and trembling, she watched his long elegant hands torturously slide her chemise up to her hips. He bent to trail his hot lips in its wake.

   Unable to bear the slow torture any longer, she found the strength to wrest the fabric free and pull it over her head. Too long she had dreamed of this moment. She would not be denied. She made a grab for the buttons on his breeches.

   With a groan mixed with a laugh, he came up on his knees and then sat on the side of the bed. "If the lady is impatient . . . it is my duty to oblige." He stripped off his boots and breeches.

   The sight of his erection, dark with blood and as proud as any stallion, held her attention. Something low in Caro's belly drew in tight, painfully, pleasurably. She licked suddenly dry lips. "Lucas."

   His warm hands ran over her sensitized flesh, caressing and teasing, sending desire straight to the place between her thighs in rippling, throbbing, pleasure-filled waves.

   Once more, he dipped his head and suckled at one puckered nipple while he teased the other.

   A shivering sensation drove straight to her core. She gasped.

   Half-lidded and sultry, his gaze rose to her face. She smiled when his triumphant glance tangled with hers.

   "You are the most gorgeous woman in the world," he murmured.

   And in that magical moment, she believed him.

   He moved over her.

   She swallowed her maidenly fear.

   He spread her legs and settled between them, his dark gaze tender, his delicate touch in her inner thighs reverent. His rampant male arousal pressed against her mons.

   "Please, Lucas," she begged.

   He reached between them, his fingers gently probing, fluttering inside her. The sensation was so unbearably wonderful she raised her hips seeking more. She knew there was so much more.

   He made circles with his thumb, and agonizing pleasure arrowed outward. She shrieked his name.

   "Mmmmm," he murmured. "It feels good, doesn't it?

   "Yes," she gasped.

   "And this?" He moved a finger inside her and sent a wild burst of pleasure streaking through every nerve.

   "Yes," she cried, not quite sure the word covered what she felt.

   Rising up on hands planted each side of her head, his dark gaze locked with hers. He teased her entrance with gentle probes of his erection. "And this?"

   It felt so amazing she couldn't breathe; her limbs melted with pleasure. "Yes."

   Hard and hot, he slid slowly inside. Her body stretched to accommodate his length and width. The muscles inside her clenched.

   "Sweet Lord," he muttered, his breathing ragged. "Hold still. I don't want to hurt you."

   He eased forward, and sweet torment built to unbridled lust. "Lucas." His name rang in her ears.

   Need wracked her body. Her hips thrust up to meet him. There was a pinch of pain and then mind-numbing pleasure with each plundering thrust into her body. Nothing mattered but reaching for some far-off land. An ocean of pleasure swirled her in giddy circles.

   The maelstrom crashed over her, a boiling tide of surf and spray. And then the tide subsided, leaving eddies of bliss and heat. Glorious. She surfaced to find herself in his arms, as he caressed, praised, and gently kissed her lips and the hollow of her neck. His chest rose and fell with hard breaths.

   She closed her eyes and drifted.

   Later, much later, eyes closed against the real world, cradled in Lucas's embrace, she lay sated. The scent of cologne and their lovemaking filled her nostrils. The warm weight of his arm draped over her ribs filled her with a sense of protection.

   She wanted to stay here forever. She opened her eyes. The daylight had faded, and she realized she must return to reality. She slid from beneath the sheet he must have pulled over her while she slept and began to dress.

   Almost done, she stood up and fumbled with the fastenings down the back of her gown.

   "Where are you going?"

   She jumped and swung around. Lucas lay on his side, his head propped on one hand watching her.

   "I'm going home. The girls will be waiting for dinner."

   "I hoped you might stay and have dinner with me."

   The sensual timbre in his voice tightened her breasts and started a fire in her blood. She hadn't expected desire to return so swiftly. She had thought once would be enough to satisfy her needs. Apparently, desire was fathomless. "That would be a mistake."

   He recoiled. "The hell it would be."

   She turned away. "I mean, it is perfectly all right because we are married. But soon we will not be. It must not happen again."

   "You mean to go through with the divorce?"

   Aware of his gaze on her back, she shrugged. "Why not? There is nothing to keep us together. We both have all the money we need."

   "And this, today? What was that?" His voice sounded tight.

   "An error of judgment," she said. Or thought she said. Her head felt so unpleasantly light.