"Is it not obvious?" She tried to lower her voice, to make it as seductive as his. "I plan to seduce you."
Chapter 11
B
rahm blinked, his expression endearingly sleepy and boyish in the lamplight. "You plan to do
what
?"
"Seduce you," Eleanor replied, her confidence waning. This wasn't going quite as she expected. He wasn't supposed to question her. He was supposed to ravish her. Now.
He sat up, the blankets pooling around his hips, baring him from the waist up. He ran a palm over his face. "You should not be here. You will be ruined if we are caught."
Eleanor wasn't listening. She was staring at his chest. Years ago when she had seen him naked, she had been too hurt and shocked to enjoy it. Now she was so close, the moonlight so gloriously generous, that she could see every delicious inch of his upper body.
He was rich bronze, the muscles in his chest and arms heavy and defined. The fine dark hair on his torso seemed a natural contour to the hills and valleys of his trunk and stomach. What would he feel like beneath her hand?
He looked down at his bare chest before flashing her a look that was almost apologetic. "I have the body of a laborer, I know. I have had to compensate in many ways for my injury."
"You are beautiful," she whispered, her tone as awed as her gaze as it met his— briefly. "Michelangelo would weep at the sight of you."
A soft chuckle escaped him. "I doubt it, but thank you. Eleanor, you must stop looking at me like that."
"Why?" Her fingers reached out to touch his stomach.
Brahm caught her hand before it reached its goal. "Because I am already using all my control not to kiss you."
Brazenly, she raised her gaze to his. "I grow weary of your control, Brahm. I want you to kiss me. I want you to touch me. Now release my hand and let me touch you as I want to."
He didn't release her as she demanded, but leaned forward until she could feel the heat and smell the warm sandalwood scent of his skin. He braced one strong arm beside her knee, the muscles taut and shadowed in the lamplight.
"I do not want to take advantage of you, Eleanor."
Eleanor shivered as his warm breath caressed her cheek. "You are not. You are a guest in my house. If anything, I am taking advantage of you, or I would if you would only allow it."
He did not chuckle at her teasing. His expression was serious— gravely so. "If you touch me I will not be satisfied until I make love to you."
She smiled, her other hand coming up to caress the stubbled plane of his cheek. "My darling Brahm.
I
will not be satisfied until you make love to me."
He kissed her then, his wide lips firm and hot against her. Eleanor opened her mouth for him, moaning softly as his tongue slid inside. He tasted her. She tasted him. His tongue stroked hers, teased and tantalized. Her heart thudded noisily against her ribs as a wave of shivering longing swept over her.
Brahm's arms encircled her, drawing her closer as he lay back on the bed. Eleanor had no choice but to follow, her lips still locked to his. She was draped over him like a blanket, her hips nestled in the hollow of his pelvis. He was hard and solid beneath her. Instinctively she pushed against that hardness, sending a ripple of pleasure darting through her. An ache awakened between her legs, deep inside her. It was a familiar ache— one she knew only Brahm could relieve to her ultimate satisfaction.
Through the thin material of her wrapper and nightrail, she could feel the heat of his hands. His fingers were gentle but firm, the strength there obvious as he gripped the curve of her bottom. His hips arched, and she could fully feel the hard length of him through the layers of fabric that separated them. This was the "massive maleness" that Fanny Carson had spoken of, that Eleanor had felt pushing against her before. Such an exotic organ should frighten her, should make her reluctant to leave her innocence behind, but it didn't. Eleanor undulated against it, shoving herself against him until she was sure her tender flesh would bruise.
His hands came around to her front, deftly dealing with the tie of her robe. He pushed the flimsy garment aside. Eleanor lifted herself so he could slide it down her arms. What he did with it after that, she didn't know and didn't care.
Her gown rode up her thighs as she moved against him. His fingers found the backs of her legs and slid upward, taking the gown with them until the cool night air brushed the bare skin of her backside.
Brahm sat up suddenly, taking her with him. She straddled his hips as he hauled her nightgown upward. Without question, Eleanor raised her arms so that he might remove it completely. Then she faced him, naked and vulnerable and trembling with need.
She could cringe under his appraisal. She could list her flaws and insecurities, but there was no point. Brahm looked at her as though she was a goddess, and his obvious appreciation of her body made her feel like such a divine creature. Whatever her flaws, tonight they were nonexistent, at least in this man's eyes.
"I imagined this moment so many times," he admitted in a raspy voice. "I am not certain if you are real or a dream."
His words caught at her heart. Slowly Eleanor lifted her hands to her hair, tugging at the ribbon there. The heavy tresses fell free, tumbling down her back like a waterfall of hair. She wanted Brahm's hands in it. Wanted to see it against his skin.
"Touch me," she whispered. "See for yourself that I am indeed real." His appreciation gave her a kind of shameless confidence.
His hands slid up her arms to her shoulders and neck. His caress was feather-light and just as tender, as his hands came up to cup her jaw.
He kissed her again, his lips lazy against hers. There was great restraint in his kiss, and Eleanor railed against it. She didn't want restraint. She wanted passion. She wanted the full force of his desire for her, because she intended to give him the full extent of hers for him. Desperately she caught at his shoulders, the bones there sharp against her palms. She tried to pull him closer, but he wouldn't budge. She slid her tongue along his, trying to coax him into a more insistent kiss. He resisted. He was in control, and she could either accept or rebel.
"Please," she begged against his lips. "Please."
He did not deny her. The pads of his fingers were velvet-rough as they slowly trailed down her chest. Gently, lightly they circled her nipple with a touch so acute it was little more than a sharp tickle. Eleanor's breasts tightened at his touch, the peaks puckering into tight, wanting pebbles. When his fingers finally squeezed the aching bud, she whimpered against his mouth. He rolled the nipple between his fingers as his tongue stroked hers, inhaling her moans.
His mouth drifted away from hers, trailing along her jaw and neck. He pressed a soft kiss to the pulse at the base of her throat before continuing downward. He leaned forward, forcing her spine into a lithe arch. Her breasts jutted forward, longing for his mouth. His lips branded a path along one curve until the wet heat of his mouth finally closed over her nipple. Eleanor's breath caught in her throat, trapped somewhere between a cry and a sigh.
Brahm's mouth tugged at her flesh, suckling until the ache between her legs grew to a fevered pitch. Eleanor pressed her hips down, wantonly seeking the pressure of his body.
Without taking his mouth from her breast, Brahm lifted her and rolled at the same time until Eleanor was on her back on the bed and he was hovering over her, laving her nipple with his tongue as he shoved at the blankets that separated them.
Bracing himself on one forearm, his other hand slid down past her ribs, down her belly to the valley between her thighs. Her legs fell apart as his fingers parted the moist curls, easing into the slick furrow. Slowly he began to stroke her, his questing fingers easily finding that part of her that was coiled into a tight bud of tension.
"Oh!" Eleanor's hips lifted at the first pass of his fingers. He replaced his fingers with his thumb, sliding his fingers downward to the entrance to her body. One slipped inside her, easily parting her eager flesh. She gasped at the intrusion, her muscles clenching at him. She never knew it would feel like this. Her entire body was on fire for him, and they were far from over, that she knew.
His teeth nipped at her breast, drawing a cry from her. Lifting his head, he gazed down at her, his fingers still ruthlessly stroking the wetness between her legs until she writhed and gasped for more. She met his gaze with a boldness she never knew she possessed. Did it arouse him to watch her? Did her reaction to his touch make him hard, pulsing with the need to be inside her?
"You are so tight," he told her as his finger eased in and out of her body.
Eleanor gasped as the coil of pleasure wound even tighter. "Is that good?"
He chuckled. "Very good." Lifting himself up on his hand, he loomed over her. "I want to watch you shudder. I want to be buried inside you when you come. I want to shove myself inside you until you sob with pleasure."
Her body reacted to his words, warming and melting inside. She wasn't so innocent that she didn't know what he was talking about, and God help her, she wanted it too.
Brahm leaned down, brushing her cheek with his lips. He kissed her mouth again, tasting her as though he had never tasted her before, and then he began moving downward. He was so slow, so exquisitely languid with this sumptuous exploration of her body. His lips moved with deliberate slowness from her jaw down her neck to her shoulder, as though he wanted to savor every taste of her flesh. The fingers of her right hand combed through the thick silk of his hair while the left caressed the satiny expanse of his shoulders and upper back.
Still he stoked the fire between her legs. He seemed to know exactly how to touch her so that the ache continued to build but was careful not to send her tumbling over the edge. Just when she thought he was going to give her the release she so desperately craved, he changed tempo so that orgasm eluded her.
His mouth teased her sensitive breasts, sucking and tugging until the line between pleasure and pain blurred, until she gasped at the slightest touch. The tip of his tongue flicked, tickled, and alternately applied firm, delicious pleasure that brought her to the pinnacle of sexual pleasure.
Brahm lifted his head, moving his body up over hers as he moved between her legs, positioning the blunt head of his sex against the eager entrance of hers. She stiffened just for a moment as she remembered Fanny Carson's description of this mysterious creature.
He rubbed the head of it against her cleft, spreading the moisture there while his fingers continued their divine stroking.
"Easy." His voice was low and throaty, easing the tension that gripped her. "We will fit, Eleanor. We will fit perfectly."
She believed him, and relaxed beneath him. How could she do anything else when his touch felt so good?
This time he did not change the tempo of his hand when the pressure became deliciously intense. The coil within her gave with a force that had her arching her hips and crying out in the ecstasy of it. And as the waves ripped through her, Brahm shoved his hips forward, pushing himself inside her.
Even as pleasure rippled outward from the spot where they were joined, Eleanor winced as the length of him— it felt so thick and blunt— pierced the only resistance her body offered against his. It hurt, but not as badly as she had heard it could— as she had feared it might. Discomfort mingled with rapture, until she was uncertain if having him within her hurt or was the most wonderful thing she had ever felt.
Once he was fully inside— and she knew he was fully inside her because she could feel his pelvis against hers— he stilled. Eleanor drew several slow, deep breaths. When the discomfort began to subside, when her body became restless for the movement of his, she opened her eyes once more.
Brahm was watching her, so still that his only movement was the gentle rhythm of his chest against hers. His gaze was tender, dark, and intense as he loomed above her.
"This,"
he told her softly in a voice like warm chocolate, "is the only pain I ever wished to cause you, and even so I would take it away from you if I could."
Tears burned the backs of Eleanor's eyes and she fought to blink them away. His words broke her heart, pierced something deep inside her. Her soul, perhaps?
"I would not wish it," she confessed, her voice embarrassingly throaty. "I would not have you change a thing."
He did not reply, but his eyes seemed to brighten as they gazed upon her. With his arms braced on either side of her head, he began to move his hips. Eleanor's hands slid down his back so she could feel his muscles undulating beneath her palms as he thrust within her. He began slowly, withdrawing only a fraction before filling her completely once more. Her inner flesh was sensitive, but it did not hurt, and soon she was moving her hips in rhythm with his, grinding her pelvis against his as the tension built within her once more.
With every thrust, every roll of his hips, his pubic bone pressed against hers, heightening the growing ache. Eleanor arched, shoving herself forward so that he filled her as fully as he could, moving closer to a second climax.
