Succumb to Me (20 page)

Winter opened her legs wide and wrapped them
around his hips. Logan groaned and thrust mindlessly against her,
the fabric of his breeches sliding roughly against her slick sex,
grinding against the sensitive nub nestled in her core.

“Please, Logan. I need you inside me,” she
begged, pulling him toward her with her legs. He thrust against her
again and she moaned. It felt so good ... but it wasn’t enough. She
needed her tight passage filled, filled until she burst with
sensation.

Winter reached up and tugged at the fastening
of his breeches until she’d freed his thick erection. He groaned
when she put her hands around it, squeezing and pumping his swollen
flesh. She leaned back on the desk, offering herself to him,
spreading her legs as far as she could to allow him entrance.

He looked like a pirate standing above
her—
her
pirate, his dark hair
wild and free flowing. He was everything she’d ever dared to want,
and she wanted every piece of him while she could.

Logan stood still, tension evident in his
body. He looked down on her, at her tousled hair that had slipped
its binding pins, caressing her breasts with his gaze, then moving
down lower to her weeping sex. His look grew hooded, smoldering. A
change had come over him, and he looked wilder than she’d ever seen
him, as if the least push would propel him over the edge.

It was what she’d wanted, what she had always
wanted and never admitted to herself in her darkest dreams. She
pulled him forward with her legs, urging him to complete her,
needing him.

“Please,” she whispered, “I need you inside
me.”

He closed his eyes, warring within himself.
He grasped her ankles, forcing her to lie back as he rested her
legs over his shoulders. She was no longer spread wide open, and he
held her still with his arms so that she couldn’t move. He
controlled her movement now, controlled what she would feel.
Bending, he kissed the inside of her knee as he ran one hand
between her thighs to her wet cleft. He pushed past her swollen
lips to her aching nub. Pinching it between his fingers, he toyed
with her, moving his fingers over her clit in a tight, rough
circle.

Winter gasped and struggled to move
against his hand, but he held her trapped. She could do nothing
but
feel
. She grasped the
edges of the desk for support, digging her nails into the wood as
sensations jarred her, lighting through her body in pleasurable
wave upon wave. He smiled, taking delight in tormenting her with
his fingers, and she groaned at his wicked look.

“More,” she demanded, arching her head back.
“I want your cock,” she demanded.

He grabbed her thighs in a firm grip and
moved his hips, sliding his erection against her soaked cleft,
parting her aching, saturated folds with his cockhead.

He rocked against her, sliding the hard ridge
of his shaft across her center, deliciously, slowly torturing her.
Winter jerked her hips in response, gasping ragged breaths at the
pleasure of it. Her sex quivered, blood throbbing in her clit,
pounding through her veins. She tossed back and forth
uncontrollably, wanting to do more, to make him take her, but she
could do nothing. He had the power now, and he was enjoying his
hold over her.

He slid, back and forth again and again,
harder each time, kneading her thighs with each stroke, building
her slowly up to that pleasurable state she so longed for. Winter
whimpered, trembling under his touch. He groaned, and the sliding
stopped, becoming something different. She felt the first prod of
his shaft, forcing into her tight passage, felt his hands shake to
keep control. He was so big and thick, stretched her impossibly
tight ... but she wanted it too much to care about the pain.

“Yes, Logan. Logan....” she urged, her back
arching as he worked with agonizing slowness into her tightness
until he’d sunk to the hilt inside her and bumped the mouth of her
womb.

He stopped then, breathing raggedly, gasping
for breath as his body shook, arms shaking under the strain.

Logan growled in anguish and pulled his hard
member out of her passage. Winter screamed and wrapped her legs
around his waist, refusing to let him go.

“We should not do this. Not here,” he gritted
out, looking pained.

“I care not. I need you to complete me,” she
said on a groan, thrusting herself against him, willing him to love
her as she wanted and needed.

He groaned and pushed inside her, obviously
tormented and tempted beyond reason. “You’ve turned me into a
madman. This is folly.”

Winter scratched his jacket arms, grinding up
to meet his hard thrust. “You’ve done this to us both,” she
breathed raggedly, arching her back as pleasure rode her core.

Someone knocked at the library door, and
Winter jumped in surprise, desire replaced with horror.

Logan pushed himself off of her and tried to
contain his erection, but it was too late to hide what they’d been
doing.

Winter hurriedly pulled her gown up to cover
her breasts just as the doors flew open and light flooded the room
from the hallway. Her mother stepped inside, immediately spotting
Winter sitting upon the desk, and she gasped when she saw her
daughter: her gown torn and hanging from her shoulders, her hair
unbound, her skin flushed with the heat of desire.

She turned with a murderous gleam in her eyes
to Logan. “Did he attack you?”

Winter had never seen her mother this way,
and her anger frightened her. “No, Mama, it’s not what you
think.”

Her mother looked Logan over, took in his own
torn clothing, their kiss swollen lips, and came up with the
logical conclusion.

She covered her face with her hands and
sobbed. “I knew it. I knew you were in trouble. When the gifts
began arriving, I should have done something then, protected you
from yourself. I blame myself for not putting a stop to it long
ago. I just never thought it would come to
this
.” Uncovering her face, she looked at Logan
and pointed a finger at him. “You have ruined my daughter. She will
be ostracized now because of this. I cannot possibly get her out of
here without everyone knowing something happened.”

“Mama, the fault is mine, not Logan’s.”

“Don’t lie for him, Winter. I can see for
myself what has happened.” Her mother cried harder, tears streaming
down her face. “I don’t know what we shall do.”

Logan looked from Mrs. Stevens to her
daughter, a faint smile curling his lips.

“There is only one recourse in this
situation,” he said. “I must marry your daughter.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Winter stared at him in shocked dismay. She
had never meant to force his hand this way, to entrap him into
matrimony, but he must think that was why she had done this. What
else could he think? He would never believe her if she told him she
had only wanted a chance to keep something for herself. She shook
her head. “No. I will never agree to it.”

Logan’s face hardened at her refusal, and his
eyes grew dead again. “You have no choice in this matter. Would you
have your mother brought down with you?”

“Winter, please, listen to him. He has chosen
an honorable course, one that will salvage this situation.”

Winter felt the tears welling in her eyes,
but she blinked them back, refusing to show her emotion. She had
not wanted him to be forced into marrying her—he would hate her
now. He probably believed she’d arranged this entire debacle to
ensnare him. It was no way to begin a marriage. Marriage was built
on trust and love—which would never come now.

Her mother looked at her, pleading, and she
quite suddenly she knew she had no alternative but to accept. She’d
created this mess. If it killed her soul, she would clean it up and
protect her mother.

“I accept,” she said in a resigned voice,
dropping her face into her palms with shame. Her dreams lay
crumbled on the ground, and she had no hope of restoring them. She
wondered if he would keep his promise or leave her standing at the
altar, and knew those doubts would eat away her sanity if she
allowed herself to believe them.

“I will make the arrangements. The banns must
be posted. We will marry by the end of the week.”

* * * *

The wedding was the most scandalous
event of the season. Everyone was sure Winter was
enceinte
with Lord Remington’s child.
Why else would a peer of the realm stoop to marry a dowerless girl
so thoroughly on the shelf?

Winter ignored their talk, remained peaceable
during their frequent visits she and her mother endured. All the
while, she fretted over the engagement, knowing it was a mistake to
chain herself to a man who didn’t love her, even if she did love
him. One partner’s love wasn’t strong enough to forge the bonds of
marriage into a whole.

The day arrived, and they were to be married
that morning. Her stomach was clenched in painful knots hours
before the event as her mother cried over her and helped her dress.
She wore one of her best gowns of pink and gold with gold brocade
across the skirt.

She was as ready as she could be, given the
situation.

Logan sent his carriage to them, and they
rode in silence to the church. Upon her arrival, she was shown into
a small ante chamber for final preparations.

The ceremony was to be only a small
gathering, and yet masses had arrived, none wanting to miss this
audacious occasion. She knew they only awaited her to begin,
awaited to see her fall, as she’d fallen from grace. It hit her
suddenly that she couldn’t go through with marrying him. And no one
could force her to.

Her mother shook her shoulder gently to gain
her attention. “They’re waiting, Winter. Darling?”

“Mama, I cannot do this. It is wrong.”

Abigail Stevens looked at her daughter,
horror etched on her face. “You can’t change your mind now—”

“I already have.”

“And there will be no changing it back?”

Winter shook her head. “Not in the
foreseeable future.”

Her mother studied her for several moments.
“I see. I will notify everyone of your decision. I will be back
momentarily.”

Her mother left then, and Winter heaved a
sigh, collapsing into a hard back chair in relief. She chewed her
bottom lip with worry. The hardest part was over, and she’d
survived without her heart crumbling to dust. She’d managed to save
them both from her mistake. In time, the pain of leaving him would
lessen, and she could go on with her life. At least, she prayed the
agony she felt would eventually lessen—without leaving her a dried
husk of her former self.

No, she couldn’t allow herself to think that
way. She would talk herself out of her decision. As it was, she
hovered dangerously close to running into the church and throwing
herself into Logan’s arms and begging for forgiveness for being so
blind.

Minutes passed, and she began to worry that
her mother had not returned. She needed to leave, now, before she
could change her mind.

A knock sounded, and the door opened before
she could answer. She turned in her chair, expecting her
mother.

Logan walked into the room, his stride
determined, his gaze intense as he met hers.

Winter’s heart started thudding in her
throat, blood rushed to her head. She couldn’t think straight,
could only think of how sorry she was that this was the end.

“Why have you refused to marry me?” he
demanded, his voice low, vibrating with intensity.

She swallowed audibly, gathering strength,
then said, “I have saved you—”

He laughed and shook his head, cutting her
off. “Can you not see I don’t want to be saved? All I have ever
wanted was your love. Can you not give me your heart?”

Winter froze, unable to believe what he’d
said was true. “You ... you love me?”

His expression grew completely still. He
closed the gap that separated them. “With every breath I take.” He
bent and scooped her into his arms, ignoring her half-hearted
struggle before she submitted to him and flung an arm around his
neck. “And I will be damned if I let you ruin this. I have no
intentions of being jilted at the altar.”

Winter laughed, every last doubt fleeing her
in the comfort of his embrace. She cupped his cheek and kissed him
tenderly, looking deep into his eyes. “I love you, Logan. I always
have,” she whispered, love swelling her heart to near bursting.

“Then let us give society something to talk
about.” He grinned devilishly and strode out of the room, carrying
her up the aisle amid a chorus of gasps to the altar ... and into
the beginning of her life.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“It is fitting our first time together as man
and wife, we will be making love and not stealing kisses or
pretending revenge,” Logan said as he watched her from his position
near the bed.

“I know it is strange. I admit I
enjoyed your illicit pursuits. You have quite the imagination,
husband. But ... I am not sure how to begin now.” Winter stood
awkwardly in the middle of the room—his
bedroom
. As many encounters as they had had,
she’d never been in here without having any sense of guilt that she
should not be, without being forced into the position, and the bed
looming so large and prominently made her stomach flutter with
nervousness.