The Skilled Seduction (12 page)

Tristan had been petrified when he found his sister unconscious, paralyzed by the possibility of losing her. What if those precious few seconds he wasted by doing nothing meant the difference between life and death for Gwen?

“I am not an honorable man, Victoria!” Tristan knew it to be true. “I abandoned virtue long ago.”

“You protest far too much,” she insisted.

Victoria’s blind devotion was more than he could tolerate. Tristan grabbed a fistful of fabric at her bodice, pulling her closer to him. “Would a noble man do this?”

“You’re not the man you pretend to be,” she countered, her eyes clear and fearless.

As he clutched the bunched material at her bodice tighter in his fist, the rhythm of her ample bosom rising and falling beneath his hand reminded Tristan that he was still alive.
 

And he loathed himself for it.
 

He was healthy while his sister fought for her life. Sharp talons of rage clawed at his hardened heart with the realization. Tristan hated God for choosing to take Gwen away from her family while his own tortured soul remained on this earth to further suffer.

Desperate to take it out on someone, anyone, he again tightened his grip, pulling Victoria towards him before pressing his lips against hers. He expected her to pull away, to acknowledge that he was indeed depraved – just like his father. Instead, Victoria gently parted her lips, welcoming his assault.

Her kindness almost killed him.

Punish me
, Tristan silently demanded as he thrust his tongue into her mouth yet she did no such thing. Instead, she welcomed his ravenous kiss as she clutched his shoulders.

He knew not how much time had elapsed but, when their lips parted, both were breathless.

“I take what I want,” he assured her, his tone menacing. “Is that the man you believe me to be?”

“You are no monster,” she countered, her chest heaving against her bodice.
 

He glared at her in challenge. “What do you know of monsters?”

“I have firsthand experience with one.” Victoria’s eyes remained fixed upon his, “You are no monster, Tristan.”

He didn’t know why he was testing her but he couldn’t stop himself. Tristan tore the soft, silk fabric of her gown open at her bodice, the buttons popping free of the fabric. “Do you have faith in me now?” he goaded as rain continued to lash against the windowpanes, the hard droplets pounding as violently as his own erratic pulse.

“I’m not frightened of you.”

“Perhaps you should be,” his voice was laced with danger. So much so that he almost didn’t recognize it. His scrutinized her, searching
 
for a hint that she was bluffing, for a sign that she was indeed frightened of him or repulsed by him.
 

He found none, flooding his tortured conscience with relief.
 

The novelty was short-lived, as Victoria pulled away from him, causing Tristan’s chest to constrict. He expected that she was at last going to flee, to run as far and as fast as she could from him. He wouldn’t have blamed her one bit. Lesser women would have fled long ago.

Instead, Victoria’s fingers trailed to the ripped bodice of her gown. With great care, she inched it open even further, tantalizing him with the hint of bare flesh beneath her chemise.
 

Tristan’s breath caught in his throat as his gaze roved downwards, to the rosy globes surrounding her nipples, stretched beneath the thin fabric, resting just above her corset. His erection hardened in immediate response.

“Is this what you want from me?” she asked, her chest rising and falling in quick breaths. “Will dominating me ease your grief?”

He remained silent, shamed by his answer. In truth, he hoped it would, but never expected Victoria to call him on it. Nor did he want to force her into humbling herself.

Heavy rain continued to whip against the window panes, tempered only by the rolling rumble of thunder, as Victoria shrugged out of the shoulders of her gown revealing more ivory skin. He longed to caress her, to learn if her body was as soft as her hands, her neck, and her lips.

He’d bet riches that it was.

“Will disgracing me diminish your pain?” she murmured, pulling the pins from her auburn tresses, shaking her hair until it cascaded in waves over her bare shoulders.

Tristan’s erection was now throbbing for her. He could take her right now. Not only was she willing, but she was handing control to him.

Domination no longer mattered, he realized, as Victoria’s fingers traced a path to her back, where he knew her corset laced. Tristan reached for her, encircling her in his tight embrace, halting her lest she further humble herself to him.

He caressed the creamy flesh at the nape of her neck with his fingertips, noting with a thrill of excitement that her skin was silkier than he remembered.

If he believed in fate, Tristan would have thought that Victoria was created just for him.

“You shouldn’t lose faith in your sister,” Victoria whispered, flattening her palm against his chest.

“You heard the doctor,” he replied, surprised at how calm he sounded. Even frightened for his sister and incensed with God, Victoria brought out the best in him. Or perhaps she suffused him with it, for he didn’t think he possessed it of his own free will.

“Regardless of what any physician says, you and I both know that Gwen can accomplish anything when she is determined.” Victoria caressed his chest. The slow, circular motion seemed so simple, so effortless, that for one brief second Tristan wondered if Victoria was even aware of the action.

“She’s half of me, Victoria.” The words escaped his lips in a ragged whisper. He could no longer carry the weight of his increasing panic, which was now battering him like a rough ocean current. “We were born minutes apart and have spent our lives together, as a pair. Gwen can’t leave me alone.”

Raw emotion rose to the surface as molten tears burned the back of his eyes. He squeezed them shut, willing them to subside. He would never have made such an admission to anyone else, but somehow he knew Victoria would understand.
 

She was like a drug to him.
 

“I am sorry, Tristan,” Victoria buried her head against his chest, her own tears dampening the thin fabric of his shirt, “for you, for Sebastian, and for the twins. No child should grow up without their mother.”

“What will we do without her?” Tristan didn’t expect Tori to have an answer for there wasn’t one. At least none that made even one iota of sense.

Her response was barely audible. “I don’t know.”
 

Neither did he. The only thing Tristan understood at this particular moment was that Victoria was warm, supple, and suited him to perfection. She also understood him and, on this night, that came as a relief. For once, he didn’t have to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. Victoria comprehended his loss and he longed to connect with her, seeking a diversion from his grief and fear.

Tristan kissed the top of her head, offering her the same comfort he sought. He then raked his fingers through Victoria’s silken tresses, inhaling the heady scent of gardenias. Intoxicated, his languorous kisses traced a path to her face. He kissed one eye, then the other, the taste of her salty tears lingering.

At last he reached her lips, swollen from their previous kiss he noted with satisfaction as he gently traced them with his tongue. Victoria’s breath hitched, sending a surge of exhilaration through him as she granted him entrance. Her tongue sought his, heightening his urgent desire as it lightly brushed against his.

A sharp flash of lightning clashed with a deafening boom of thunder, nature’s fury causing the glass window panes to tremble, shaking him to his very core.
 

Or perhaps it was Victoria’s impassioned kisses that caused his every nerve ending to tremble in response?

With each kiss, each stroke of her tongue against his, Tristan knew he was closer to the point of no return. This woman, who he’d known for years, affected him like no other and drained him of all reason. Ever since their first kiss, he had tried to forget her, tried to replace her. Yet no one kissed him with such a ravenous desire or caused his body to respond like Victoria.

Tristan knew he should go no further. Struggling with his persistent conscience, he even tore his mouth from hers in an attempt to do the honorable thing. Laughable, really, since Tristan was far from honorable. Yet, he did so just the same, pressing his forehead against hers as he battled to calm his frantic pulse.

Several seconds passed, perhaps even a minute as a steady rain lashed against the window panes, the turbulent rhythm attuned to his rapid heartbeat. Tristan thought he’d conquered the urgent desire that coursed within him. However, instead of the relief he expected to feel, a blow of disappointment pounded against his temples like an anvil.

It was pure madness.
 

He was certain of it, until Victoria’s hand brushed against the bare flesh of his chest causing his body to shudder in response to her delicate touch.

Victoria continued to unbutton his shirtfront, her fingers trailing downward, causing his shaft to harden in response.
 

Did she have any idea the inferno she was igniting within him?

He met her hooded gaze. Never had he witnessed such intensity in her azure eyes. Victoria continued her exploration lower, her gentle fingertips grazing his abdomen, tracing a path towards his waist, towards his manhood, which was throbbing for her, having long ago reached the painful stage.

The flames of passion that burned within him ignited as Tristan reclaimed her lips in a hard, demanding kiss. He no longer cared about honor, motivated only by his fervent need to possess her, to fill her.

Tristan reached under her skirts then placed his hands on her buttocks and raised her onto his lap. She wore very few skirts, he noted. She must not have taken much care in dressing after they found Gwen.

Gwen.
 

Christ, he needed to forget.

He groaned as he tore his lips from Victoria’s long enough to yank her tattered gown above her head, his mounting desire seeking release. It was obvious that Victoria sensed the change in him as she straddled him, shoving his shirt open, exploring his chest with her soft fingertips until his shirt fell askew off his shoulders.

Tristan shrugged out of the garment as Victoria grasped the nape of his neck, leaning into him. This time, her lips devoured his with such urgency that it surprised him.

His was a voracious hunger, like nothing he’d ever imagined. It motivated Tristan to lift Victoria up off his lap and press her backwards until she reclined against the carpeting beneath them. Though he had briefly considered the bed, it was nothing more than a fleeting thought. Instead, he stood long enough to remove his breeches, consumed by his need to possess her.
   

Her gaze lingered as she watched him undress, his body reacting with waves of heat and a surge of desire.
 

Lying beneath him, bathed in a combination of muted candlelight and lightning flashes that streaked through the turbulent sky, with her hair fanning her face, dressed only in her corset and her chemise, Tristan had never seen anyone more beautiful.

Nor had he ever wanted anyone more than he wanted Victoria.

Fear once again seized his chest as he tossed his breeches to the side. This time, he feared that Victoria would change her mind.

As if reading his thoughts once again, Victoria sat upright and turned. In a slow, seductive gesture that caused Tristan’s blood to rush to his manhood, she pushed her hair over her shoulder. She was allowing him to unlace her corset, he realized, as he dropped to his knees.
 

In spite of his trembling hands, Tristan managed to unfasten each lace. Once his task was completed, he removed her corset and inched his hands around her waist then upwards cupping her full, rounded breasts through her gauzy chemise.

Victoria gasped when his hands made contact with her breasts and arched her back against his naked form. Tristan kissed her neck as his fingers teased the taut buds beneath her chemise. She reached for his hands, cupping them in her own before shifting her weight and turning to face him.

Placing her palm against his cheek, Victoria flattened it against his stubble. He hadn’t shaved since this morning but she didn’t seem to mind. Instead she leaned into him, a small gesture but one that thrilled him. In response, Tristan buried his hands in her thick tresses.

The intensity of his heated gaze emboldened Victoria to claim his lips in a gentle kiss, using everything she’d learned from his previous kisses against him by tracing his full lips with her tongue.
 

Tristan was quick to grant her entrance.
 

Longing to comfort him, she made a concerted effort for this to be the most sensual kiss he had ever experienced. Slow and seductive, Victoria wanted to help him forget his grief if only for a moment by driving him mad with desire.

As if sensing her yearning, Tristan deepened their kiss, tracing the length of her spine with his fingertips. Even through the soft fabric, her skin quivered beneath his dexterous touch.