The Danger in Tempting an Earl (20 page)

“Heavens,” Katherine breathed.

“Turn around,” he said. “Face the mirror and allow me to worship you.”

“But my stockings and shoes—”

“Make it so much more exciting, don’t you think?” Standing behind her, he trailed his fingers over her shoulder, across her chest, down over her belly and along her hip. “I like you like this . . . still partly dressed yet with all the necessary areas available to my touch. Your breasts . . .” He heard her suck in a breath as he reached up and filled his hands with her plump flesh, delighting in the way she relaxed against him, her lips parting on a slight murmur as he pinched her pebbling nipples.

“Does that feel good?” he asked.

Good? It felt incredible. Indeed, Katherine had never in her life believed it could feel quite like this. Why, he’d barely touched her at all, yet her body was already responding, humming with expectant vigor. “Yes,” she sighed as she leaned into his warmth.

Angling his head against her, he gently bit the side of her neck. A burst of quivers shot through her, almost buckling her knees. “Oh God,” was all she could manage to say.

Lucien, wicked man that he was, merely chuckled against her flesh. “If only we’d done this sooner,” he said, meeting her gaze in the mirror as he slid one hand over her belly, producing a tremor. “Have you any idea of the torturous nights I’ve spent fantasizing about you?”

Speechless, Katherine could do nothing but shake her head while her heart hammered furiously in her chest.

“I’ve thought of touching you in the most intimate way possible . . . of sliding my hand between your thighs and stroking you right there, where you ache the most. Tell me, Kate, are you aching there now?”

His scandalous words swept through her, expanding her need until it pooled in the exact place he’d just mentioned. Indeed, she found herself aching for his touch. Unable to lie, yet incapable of speech, she nodded once more. He rewarded her with a kiss against the side of her neck. “Would you like me to relieve the ache for you?” His fingers played lightly across her skin. “To love you the way you deserve to be loved?”

His question shot straight to her heart. Of course he’d phrased it in such a way that she couldn’t be sure exactly how he meant it—if it could be construed as a declaration of sorts. She dared not ask, fearing that whatever his feelings toward her were, they would not match her own. “Yes,” she whispered, and then more forcefully, “please, Lucien. I need you.”

“Good, because I need you too, Kate, more than you can possibly imagine.” He grazed his lips against her bare shoulder as he nudged her legs farther apart with his hands, opening her up . . . preparing her for his touch.

The image that met her gaze in the mirror was indeed a scandalous one, for she stood now in a wide stance, still clad in her stockings and slippers, with Lucien’s large frame looming behind her. His left hand covered one breast while his right rested upon her hip. “You look so inviting,” he murmured, tugging gently at her nipple while his right hand stroked down her thigh. “A man would have to be mad not to want you.”

His eyes held hers, and it was as if the veil concealing the truth for so long was finally lifted, allowing Katherine to see the beauty of which he spoke. What did it really matter if she had a few birthmarks when Lucien looked at her the way he did? The marks had never concerned her until Charles had mocked her for them, filling her with doubt and a crippling sense of worthlessness, but it was also clear to her now that Charles had never cared for her. With Lucien, however, it was different—he made her feel desirable.

“Show me,” she whispered, empowered by the hunger consuming his eyes.

He chuckled lightly, teasing her skin with the warmth of his breath.

And then those skillful fingers of his swept between her legs with feather softness—a caress so gentle it was scarcely there at all, yet it tortured Katherine’s sensitive flesh, evoking a moan of pleasure from deep within her chest. Heavens, it felt good—better than she’d ever thought possible. She tilted her hips, seeking more. “Again,” she pleaded, not caring how desperate she sounded or how embarrassed she’d likely be by this newfound wanton behavior of hers when she woke the following morning. All she could think of right now was the present and how desperately she wanted Lucien’s fingers to continue their ministration, for she sensed now that there could be more between a man and a woman than she’d ever thought possible.

Mercifully, he stroked her again, with added pressure. Still, it wasn’t enough, not when complete unrest had taken over her body and embers curled inside her, threatening to tear her limb from limb. She needed something, though she knew not what, but instinct told her that Lucien was the only person capable of sating this overpowering need that stirred within her.

Eyes locked with his, she watched as he parted her folds, the indecency the image offered sending wave upon wave of pleasure soaring through her. Good Lord, but she had to be the most wanton woman on the face of the earth. And then she felt one of his fingers slip inside her, filling her the way she longed to be filled. “Yes,” she sighed as he moved in and out. His other hand released her breast and came down to stroke some magical part that sent sparks flying.

“You’re just like I imagined,” Lucien murmured. “Better even. So responsive . . . so welcoming . . . so ready. Come for me, Kate. Reach for your pleasure. Let yourself go.”

His words, coupled with his touch and the erotic image they portrayed in the mirror, buzzed along her every nerve, building the pressure within her until, on an unexpected pulse of energy, a thousand tingles burst through her. “Oh God!”

“That’s it,” Lucien murmured, his lips tenderly kissing her shoulder as he wrought every last bit of pleasure from her until she felt well and truly drained. He held her quietly for a brief time after, before turning her in his arms and lowering his mouth over hers, his kiss fierce with passion.

Katherine clung to his broad shoulders, reveling in the thrust of his tongue, the primal demand and possession it signified. “Lucien,” she gasped when his mouth left hers to kiss its way along her jawline. She needed to tell him how momentous the moment between them had been—sensed that it was of the utmost importance that she did so. So she placed her hands firmly against his chest, gave him a little nudge and took courage. “I cannot offer you my innocence,” she said, embarrassed by the subject but knowing that she had to put the feeling aside and tell him the truth.

He shook his head. “I know that, Kate.” He moved to kiss her again, but she wouldn’t let him.

“What I
can
tell you is that no other man has ever made me feel the way you just did. I mean, I’ve never . . .” God, this was difficult. She sighed, closed her eyes and whispered, “I didn’t realize it could be so incredible.”

Strong arms came about her waist, holding her close. “Thank you, Kate. You’ve given me a beautiful gift—one that I will always cherish.”

His breath was raspy, and she suddenly became aware of the hardness that pressed against her. He needed her just as much as she needed him, and she wanted suddenly, quite desperately, to do for him what he had just done for her. She’d never undressed a man before and felt a little uncertain about doing so now, but then she reminded herself that Lucien could be trusted and that he would not ridicule her for anything. She knew that now, and the thought that she’d recently feared he might felt remarkably silly.

Reaching up, she went to work on his cravat, an intricate knot that was really quite annoying when haste was of the essence. Cursing the piece of linen, she evoked a laugh from Lucien, who was watching her with merriment dancing in his eyes. “Should I help?” he asked.

“No need,” she said, determined to finish the task on her own. With a slight tug, she managed to loosen the fabric, and it eventually gave way. She smiled, pleased with her achievement.

Lucien stared down at her. He could scarcely believe that this was really happening, that his foremost wish had finally come true. Katherine was his after all these years. It was miraculous. Joy flowed through him, filling him until he felt his heart might burst. Unable to keep away from her, he reached out and placed his hand upon her waist while she went to work on the buttons of his shirt. He needed the closeness, the contact, the evidence that she was really standing naked there before him in spite of her insecurities.

She’d placed all her trust in him this evening, and the notion humbled him beyond measure. He realized just how difficult it must have been for her to undress in his presence, with the fear of rejection so forceful in her mind. But the marks that had coiled themselves around her and held her prisoner were of no consequence to him. He loved her for the woman she was, for her kindness, her sense of humor, her devotion to those she cared about and for her intellect. Physically, she would always be the most beautiful woman of his acquaintance. Nobody else would ever compare.

His groin tightened with the need to claim her, to love her as much as he possibly could. Christ . . . to watch her face as she found her release once more, this time with him inside her, almost had him shoving her aside so he could make haste with his clothes. Her confession earlier . . . knowing that he was her first meaningful lover had spoken to his male ego and filled him with pride.

His shirt finally slipped from his shoulders, and, shrugging his arms out of it, he let it fall to the floor. “Allow me to remove my boots,” he said, stepping back so he could give one of his Hessians a hard tug. Tossing it aside, he quickly removed the other as well, along with his socks. He stood before her now, in nothing but his breeches and not the least bit embarrassed about the proof of his desire, evident as it was beneath the snug fit of the fabric. Her fingers came toward him hesitantly, the touch of them as light as fairy dust as they skimmed along the edge of his waistband.

Lucien sucked in a breath and raised his hand to one of Katherine’s breasts, delighting in its fullness. He’d be damned if he would be the only one getting tortured, and he delighted in the sigh of pleasure that escaped her when he found her nipple and squeezed. “The faster you get me out of these breeches, the faster we’ll both be able to find what we seek,” he murmured.

“I . . .” A blush rose across her chest and traveled to her cheeks. She paused and held completely still.

Lucien studied her closely. The fingertips that rested at his waistline were trembling ever so slightly, and there was something apprehensive about her—a nervousness to complete the task she’d set for herself. It dawned on him then, so forcefully it was almost as if he’d been punched in the chest: not only was this the first time she’d experienced the pleasure of lovemaking but it was also her first time undressing a man . . . touching him like this. “Take your time,” he soothed, reigning in his urges, “there’s no rush. However, I want you to know that I crave your touch. I long for you to be bold, Kate, and I promise that you’ll get nothing but gratitude in return.”

She nodded, still hesitant, it appeared. Lucien held his breath, waiting for her to proceed and wondering if she would. The last thing he wanted was for her to back away, so he drew on every ounce of patience he possessed, immensely relieved when she finally began unbuttoning the fall. Happily, her fingers began moving with increased confidence and speed until he sprang free, brushing against her hand. With a startled gasp, Katherine pulled away, but Lucien caught her lightly by the wrist, halting her retreat. “Relax,” he whispered. “It’s just me, the same person you’ve known your whole life. I’ll never judge you for anything. You’re safe with me.”

“I know that, Lucien, truly I do. It’s just—”

“I love you.” There. He’d said it. With three little words he’d torn away whatever barriers remained between them, hoping that their powerful meaning would be enough to save Katherine from the burden of her past.

She gazed back at him with wonder pooling in the depths of her eyes. Lucien’s heart knocked against his chest as he stood there, completely vulnerable in every conceivable way, with his manhood thrusting toward her and having just offered her his heart. Would she reciprocate? Did she even feel as strongly for him as he did for her? Fear reared its ugly head, and he opened his mouth to speak—to offer her a way out of the awkward moment he’d just created. But then she spoke, cutting him off, and the words that slipped from her lips were like a concerto rising through the silence. “Oh, Lucien, I love you too. So very much my heart aches with it.”

His own heart soared with elation and he brought her hand back to the waistline of his breeches. “Then don’t hold back. Know me the way you know yourself—let the last barriers between us fall away. Explore me just as I’ve explored you, because truth be told, I’m really quite desperate for you to do so.”

A smile captured her lips and a small chuckle escaped her. She took a deep breath, and then, gloriously, she tugged his breeches down over his hips, freeing him completely. Stepping out of them, he raised her hand to his lips and placed a kiss against the back of her wrist before lowering it to his aching manhood. “Don’t be shy,” he murmured when he felt her flinch. “There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing.”

Tentatively and with his guidance, she curled her fingers around the hard length of him. The pleasure of her touch upon him was intense, and when he showed her how to move her hand smoothly back and forth, it was all he could do not to stop his eyes from rolling back in his head from the sheer ecstasy the movement wrought. He ran his hand over her hip, squeezing the flesh of her left buttock before continuing down behind her. She groaned with pleasure when he found her center once more, his fingers fueling her lust and increasing her wetness until she was more than ready for him.

Unfurling her hand, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, where he placed her gently against the pillows before climbing up between her thighs. He kneeled there, gazing down at her while his hands roamed up over her legs, over her hips, across her belly and onward to her full breasts. She sighed when he cupped them, arching against his touch as he kneaded that tender flesh. “Tell me you want me,” he said, desperate to hear her invitation spoken aloud.