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Authors: Theresa Romain

BOOK: Season for Temptation
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“Um, actually, maybe I'm not ready,” she admitted.
James looked so disappointed, she at once regretted her words. “I take it back. I might be ready.”
“No, no, tell me the truth,” he said, through teeth gritted with physical tension. “I don't want to do anything you aren't completely comfortable with.”
“Well, I thought I was ready for . . . the rest. But you look so big, I just don't believe it'll fit. I don't even know if it will fit in my hand.”
To prove her point, she gently wrapped her hand around his shaft. “Oh, I guess it can fit.” She gently stroked him, intrigued at his responsive shudder.
“Let's wait a while on that,” James said through an increasingly tight voice. “I'm not made of stone, you know.”
“I know exactly what you're made of,” Julia teased, eyeing his nude body up and down. Her voice softened, and she added, “Inside and out, I know.”
She relaxed back, and reached for his shoulders. Blue eyes to green, their gazes met and held. His eyes searched hers intently, and she felt as if he saw all of her, her eagerness and her love. “I really am ready, for everything.”
Finally, James needed no more encouragement. He climbed onto the bed and covered her body with his own, clasping his arms around her. He gently nudged her knees apart, and with one swift thrust, he pressed into her slickness, drawing a shocked breath from her.
“Are you all right?” he asked at once, raising himself onto his forearms to look at her face.
She nodded, an undecided look on her face, and wriggled. “I feel very full, but it doesn't hurt.”
“That's because you were so ready for me,” James said thickly, holding himself very still.
“I like it,” Julia decided. “How long do we stay like this?”
“We don't,” James said. His words were a promise immediately fulfilled, as he began to thrust with slow, gentle strokes that raised the heat between Julia's legs again.
It felt different this time; more intimate, less fervid, as hands clasped, lips pressed, and bodies met in the deepest of embraces. With each thrust, Julia felt James enter farther into her passage. The gentle friction was unaccustomed and fascinating to her. She savored every sensation, parting her legs wider to welcome him deeper and deeper.
He was part of her now. They were one.
Just as she was beginning to settle into a warm, loving glow, James's thrusts began to grow faster and even deeper. Julia's body knew intuitively how to respond, her hips rocking to match his increasing urgency. This was a whole new sensation, still deeply intimate but now with a flickering heat of . . . was this what passion was? She felt such longing, it was almost unbearable, and she grasped at James's hips to hold and pull him more closely into her.
He responded electrically to her touch, stroking with deep, quick measured movements, playing his hands over her face and breasts.
“I can't touch you enough,” he gasped.
“I'm all yours,” she replied, smiling for a second before a faster stroke, a gentle kiss on the sensitive skin of her nipples stole all thought from her. The feeling of longing and need was building to such a pitch, she wrapped her arms tightly around James and let him carry her away with the force of his body.
And when they both reached the wild joy of a shuddering, moaning climax, she held on to him afterward just as tightly, and she knew that she never wanted to let him go.
Chapter 27
In Which Things Aren't Strange, Then Are
“I don't feel a bit awkward around you now,” Julia mused as the two lay lazily entwined in James's bedsheets.
“Good,” James said, drawing a finger along the line of her chin. “That's the way I would certainly prefer things.”
“No, I mean it, James. I feel as comfortable around you as ever, even though we have no clothes on and I'm in your house. In your
bedchamber
.”
“Well,” he replied, dropping a kiss onto her nose, “if we didn't feel extraordinarily comfortable around each other to begin with, I don't think we'd be in this type of situation.” He nuzzled her hair and wrapped her in a hug, but she barely noticed, still trying to puzzle through a train of thought.
“Shouldn't I feel somehow strange, or different? Since what we did was so strange—well, not precisely strange in the sense that it's never been done before by others. Actually, I wouldn't really know. Did we do anything very unusual?”
“Not especially,” James answered, amused. “Though I'd like to think we did it particularly well.”
“All right, so we did something that in itself wasn't strange or unusual, at least not on a global scale. But on a personal scale, for me, it was very strange. I mean, I've never done anything like that before, and it was rather significant. As you know. Since you practically tried to talk me out of it.”
“I'm very glad I didn't succeed,” he said, his hands now beginning to wander her body again.
Despite the distraction of her mind, her body began to respond to his touch, and her thoughts grew fragmented. “I am, too—that is, I didn't know what it would be like. But now that it's over”—she paused and shook her foggy head to clear it, as he circled her breasts with one teasing fingertip—“I know what it's like, obviously, and I realize that it was more significant even than I thought.”
“You're babbling,” he mumbled, kissing her neck. “I like it.”
“Oh. Well. Anyway, it was amazing, and I just feel
right
about it,” she finished in a rush. She let her head loll back, relaxed and enjoying his touch.
“That's wonderful,” he said, his fingertips now brushing against her nipples and raising them to peaks. “Because we'll be doing a lot more of this when we're married.”
He brought his lips to hers for a kiss, but she pressed him back to look questioningly at him.
“Was that a proposal?”
He raised his head, glassy-eyed, and looked confused for a second. Then his expression became chagrined. “Yes, of sorts. Not a very good one, though, apparently. Sorry.”
“But did you mean it?” she insisted.
“Of course I meant it. You can't think I would do
this
”—he gestured widely at their bodies, the bed, the heap of discarded clothing in the corner—“and not intend to marry you.”
Now she
was
embarrassed. “You aren't just proposing to me because of what we did, are you?”
Her face grew hot. Blasted face, always showing her feelings so easily. She felt suddenly conscious of her nakedness and of the enormity of what she had just done. “My God, James, I gave myself to you. I can never marry anyone else.”
“You wouldn't want to, would you?” He sounded hurt.
“No, of course not,” Julia hastily replied. “I love you and I would never want to marry anyone else.” The words were true, she knew they were true, but they tumbled out in a hurry and sounded awkward on her lips.
They lapsed into a self-conscious silence, the budding passion of a moment before now cooled into caution.
“I believe you,” James said carefully, “but you don't sound very glad about it.”
“I am,” Julia insisted. Then she corrected herself. “Well, right now I guess I am not quite glad about it, since I'm embarrassed and I sort of feel like you are bringing up marriage out of a sense of obligation.”
James looked indignant. “How can you say that? Don't you remember what we said to each other last night, and just a while ago? You knew I wanted to be with you if I were ever free. I didn't think that would happen, even after I got Louisa's letter this morning—but then you came, and it was the greatest gift of my life.”
Julia was mollified somewhat by this speech, until she dissected its full meaning. “Wait—you weren't going to pursue me even after you got the letter?”
“I didn't think I had the right. I knew it would be a huge scandal. And after what Gloria's already been through in the last year, I didn't want to add to my family's notoriety.”
“And now?” Her voice was accusing.
“It will still be a scandal, of course. But now we have to marry, and I'm glad for that because it's what I wanted.” His voice was defensive, belying his loving words, and now Julia felt stung.
“I didn't try to manipulate you, you know,” she retorted.
“I didn't think you did,” he replied, brows knit as he searched for the right explanation. “I'm used to young women throwing themselves at me because of my title, but I can certainly tell the difference between that and the way you've always treated me.”
“Oh, that's right,” Julia said, a chill in her voice. “I had forgotten I was with a
viscount
.”
James blew out his breath between exasperated lips. “Maybe I didn't put that very well. But please understand my intention, which is honorable. Lawful marriage. It may be the right thing to do, but it's also what I want to do.”
Julia watched him carefully for a few seconds, but his expression was neutral and waiting. “Well,” she replied. “All right.”
He blinked. “So you'll marry me?”
“No,” Julia replied without thinking. James looked shocked, and she hastily explained. “I mean, I might. Probably. Yes. But what I was really answering was your statement about understanding your intention. And I meant, all right, I understand your intention.”
“So you'll only
probably
marry me?” he said in disbelief.
“I think I need not to talk about this right now,” Julia answered. “I know I love you and you love me, and it makes sense for us to get married, especially now, et cetera.”
“‘Et cetera'?” James repeated, his voice yet more incredulous. That haughty eyebrow was cocked again, as if what Julia was saying was the stupidest thing anyone had ever said since the dawn of the English language. Which it probably was, since her thoughts were in such a tangle that she hardly knew what she was going on about.
“Right, well, anyway,” she hastened to finish, “I need some time to think and let all this settle in. Since I woke this morning, I've had two proposals, helped my sister break her engagement, and lost my virginity. It's been quite a day.”
James laughed at her recital. “When you put it that way, it is rather a lot to think about all at once. Fair enough.”
Julia smiled back at him, relieved. “We'll talk about this again later?” she asked, sliding off the bed to retrieve her clothes from the corner of the room.
He slid after her and began to help her sort out her clothing. “Yes, of course we will. You'll never be able to get rid of me. I'll propose over and over again. I'll harass you about it every time I see you.”
He handed Julia a stocking. “By the way, when will that be next? I assume I'm no longer invited over to dine with you and your family tonight.”
“Oh. Yes, probably it would be best if you didn't come, for Louisa's sake. She'd find it very awkward.” Julia considered. “What if I send you a note when I know of our next plans? I don't know what Louisa will want to do, or what my aunt will consider proper under the circumstances.”
“Well, don't wait too long,” James said, a twinkle in his eye as he helped her roll her second stocking back onto her leg. “Otherwise I'll come after your aunt myself and tell her about how very improper we've been, to force your hand so you'll have to marry me.”
“Ha.” Julia acknowledged his joke with an affectionate roll of her eyes, standing up and shaking her rumpled garments into place. “Don't worry; I'll write as soon as possible. I want that as much as you do.”
She twisted to look over her shoulder. “Is it completely obvious just what I've been doing?”
“Not at all,” James assured her. “That is, not if you wear that big cloak again.”
She wrinkled her nose at him and gave a wry smile, comfortable again now that she was dressed and had earned some time to think.
Well, she wasn't
entirely
comfortable; he was still disconcertingly, unabashedly nude. It was quite distracting.
She averted her eyes and kissed him on the cheek. “I'd better go.”
He found a dressing robe in his wardrobe and wrapped it around his lean form. “I'll see you out.”
Strolling thoughtfully downstairs, with James wrapping his arms around her from behind, Julia tried to enjoy the present moment. In the back of her mind, though, uncertainty about the next step niggled at her. What was she going to tell her aunt, and how, and when? Or her parents? Or Louisa, for that matter? Each confession seemed more daunting than the last.
At the door, she raised her lips to James's, and the viscount dropped a gentle kiss onto them.
“Be careful as you go home,” he warned. “After everything you've gone through, I wouldn't want you to come to any harm. In fact, if you'll wait a moment, I'll make myself decent and see you home myself. I think that would be best.”
“Not necessary,” she scoffed. “How would I explain you to my aunt? She would never believe that we just happened to cross paths while I was out walking alone, or that I had a good reason for filching Simone's cloak.”
He shrugged. “Why shouldn't she?”
She smiled. He was so dear; she loved how protective he had become, even if it was foolish. “No, it'll be fine. I'll see you soon.” She kissed him again. “I do love you.”
He held her tight for a moment. “I love you, too.”
He drew back out of the entryway, and Julia opened the door and stepped out of the house.
And bumped straight into Lord Xavier, who was standing on the stoop, about to knock on James's door.
The force of the blow caused the breath to whoosh out of Julia's body, and she stumbled backward.
“Steady, lass,” the tall nobleman admonished her as if she were a servant, taking hold of her cloak-clad shoulders to keep her balance from being overset. Then he saw her face, and his cool gray eyes widened with recognition. He instantly took in her startled expression, her swollen lips, her rumpled clothing.
“Well, well, well,” he mused, inclining his head in greeting. “Miss Herington. This is a surprise. But how enchanting you look! It is truly delightful to see you.”
She bobbed a quick curtsy, her cheeks flaming. “Lord Xavier. It is delightful to see you as well.”
“I imagine not, actually,” he replied, then noticed the half-open door and James's dressing robe–clad form still standing in the home's entryway. His mouth quirked.
“Interesting,” he said, and pushed the door open all the way. “Very interesting. Greetings to you, Matheson.”
James gaped at him for a second. “Xavier. How—What—Did you—” He cleared his throat, but was unable to finish his sentence.
“I was stopping by to see if you wanted to go to White's for a bit,” Xavier replied smoothly, eyes glinting with unreadable emotion. “But I seem to be too late with my invitation. It appears you have already found other . . . entertainment, shall we say?”
“It's not what it looks like,” James said hastily, with a quick glance at Julia. If anything, this only made her feel worse, as if she was complicit in something shameful and secret.
Which, she supposed, she was.
“Really? I imagine it is exactly what it looks like,” the younger man drawled, his eyebrows raised in skepticism. “But I am dreadfully thick-witted sometimes and do not always know what I am looking at. Perhaps I shall have to have it explained to me.”
“Come in, come in,” James said hastily. “For God's sake, man, we can't stand out here in the street talking like this.”
“Indeed not,” Xavier replied, stepping into James's house.
“Good afternoon, Lord Xavier,” Julia interjected quickly, preparing to make her escape.
A slow, lovely, dangerous smile spread over his face. “Indeed it is, Miss Herington. Indeed it is.”

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