Vermillion (The Hundred Days Series Book 1) (37 page)

Matthew grinned. “I could say the
same about you.” He jumped from the mattress, growling, scooping her up over
his shoulder. She made a valiant effort, twisting side to side, but it was
hopeless. Matthew's arm pinned her vice-like to his body. She hammered at his
shoulder blades, but her fists only pounded loose his laughter, not his
obedience. “Put me down! Matthew –” Giggling turned to panting, wrestling
against the vice of his arms. Finally, he relented and dropped her.
Stocking-clad feet slipped against the rug, and Kate was sure of landing on her
backside. She shrieked, laughing as his arm snaked around the backs of her
knees. Matthew scooped her up, cradling her against his chest.

“Put me down!” She jabbed two
fingers into his armpit. It was a dangerous move, Kate realized too late.
Matthew's arms went slack at her assault and he nearly dropped her in earnest.

“Witch! If I let you go, then what?”

“Set me down. Let me look at you.”

Matthew moved his arm, tipping her
feet gently to the rug, and stepped back.

Catching her breath, she eyed him
over, calculating her assault. She rested a hand on the shoulder of his blue
wool coat, taking small steps around him. Matthew dressed like no man she had
ever met. Understated enough that it might have been plain, except that his clothes
were cut to flatter the man beneath. Almost a pity, she thought, brushing
fingers across his shoulder blades, that she was about to take them all off.
Kate finished her circle, stopping in front of him. She was certainly going to
enjoy it, though. “Take off your coat,” she ordered.

“So that's the game?” Challenge
burned in his eyes. Two good shrugs got it off. Matthew launched it on top of
her stays, forgotten in the chair. “And now?”

Tucking her fingers into the knot at
his throat, she worked loose the linen of his cravat. She took her time,
unwrapping the fabric until it hung over each shoulder. Wrapping her fists in
the material, she used it as a yoke, tugging Matthew close. His lips twitched,
anticipating a kiss but Kate buried her face in his neck instead. A groan in
his chest rumbled against her cheek, and she inhaled the bite of cedar on his
skin. Pulling away, she snapped the open vee of his neckline with a finger.
“Shirt.”

“I tremble and obey,” he breathed,
mouth just inches from hers.

She pressed a finger to his lips,
and smiled. “You're not allowed to use my words against me.”

He grabbed the tail, rolling crisp
linen up his arms. As it wriggled up over his head, Kate traced the flat plane
of his stomach, rigid muscles of his chest, but only with a look. She denied
the twitch in her fingers a little longer.

The shirt landed atop her dress.
Matthew kicked them both aside. “Boots?”

“Very well.” Kate lifted her chin,
pretending that was her plan all along.

He employed some sort of magic,
using the heel of one boot on the toe, then his bare toes on the other, prying
them off before Kate could really grasp what the trick was.

Matthew held his arms wide. “Now
what would please m'lady?”

There was a saucy twitch to his
mouth which merited punishment. She licked her lips, deciding his fate, and
poked a finger into the mattress. “Lie on the bed.”

“In every way agreeable.” He passed
by slowly, eyes fixed to hers and leaning in just enough that Kate half closed
her lids, waiting for his lips. Instead, she got a chuckle and an 'oof' as he
fell back onto the quilt.

She circled a finger in the air,
vowing not to let him get the best of her again. “No. The other way.
Long-wise.”

He tucked and rolled with athletic
grace, coming to rest against the pillows. “Acceptable?

“Perfectly.” Hopping onto the bed,
she gathered what was becoming an annoying froth of petticoats up to her knees.
Swinging one leg over Matthew's waist, she straddled him, feeling like a
conquering hero. The supple buckskin of his breeches clung at her thighs as she
settled on him. His impatient fists grabbed at her skirts, pulling her against
him hard enough to free a groan. She gasped at the familiar shape of him
pressing up into her, only a layer of fabric separating their bodies. Somehow
it felt more illicit than bare flesh. Matthew lifted his hips off the bed a
little, creating friction with the soft leather hard between her legs. His
fingers bit the curve of her back when she arched against him.

“You cannot tease a man so without
some result,” he murmured.

She dragged a fingernail from his
breastbone to his navel, enjoying the sharp rise of his chest. “A pity for that
man, as I'm not done teasing yet.”

Matthew's brows lifted. “
That man
can give as good as he gets, you know...”

Kate ground her hips against his
until she tore free a gasp. “I've been reminded a time or two.”

He traced the end of his ribbon,
dangling just below her throat. When she made no move to stop him, Matthew
tugged out the bow. She steeled herself for the delicious sensation. Silk
slipped warm around her neck, whispering down between her breasts and pooling
on Matthew's stomach. She left it there, in reserve until she was ready.

Splaying fingers, Kate snaked them
over his biceps, brushing the bend of his arm and circling his wrists.
Matthew's eyes pressed shut. Lifting one arm, then the other, she raised them
to the pillow, resting his hands above already disheveled hair. The tip of his
tongue drew a damp line up the bottom of her breast the moment it was in reach.
There was nothing but that sensation for a moment, and she nearly gave in to
his distraction. Shaking off his earlier taunts, Kate pulled her nipple from
between his teeth and sat back with a touch more pressure than was necessary.
He stiffened, grabbing at the blanket, and his head fell back. Kate purred her
satisfaction and picked up the ribbon.

Matthew cracked one eye. “What are
you about?”

She fitted herself over him,
pressing breasts to the skin of his chest. Sawing the ribbon back and forth
against the pillow, she worked it behind his hands and looped the ends into a
knot.

It was nothing more than suggestion.
He could move his arms, slip free at any time, but she trusted him to be a good
sport.

There was heat in his eyes, gray
ashes over what smoldered beneath. “When I was a young colonel in India, I
heard tell of a pleasure house in a city down the river. Full of the most
beautiful women. They would bind a man with silk scarves and proceed to torment
him in every
indirect
fashion until he was satisfied. But he was not,
under any circumstances, permitted to touch his captors.”

“I approve of their methods.” She
looped the ribbon back on itself, snugging up the tail.

“Mmm. I thought you might.” His head
fell back against the pillow.

“And did you investigate the truth
of this rumor?”

His sigh was tinged by an amusing
measure of regret. “No opportunity. Though I confess it has ever intrigued me.”

Something animal surged inside. A
desire to please Matthew and to possess him. “Perhaps we can sate your
curiosity.” Her lips began their conquest at his newest scar, a ragged pink
line half concealed by his breeches. Tender skin twitched under her mouth. She
flicked at the corded, newly-healed flesh with her tongue, then licked the salt
from his stomach, tracing Matthew's waistband. His hips bucked, silently
begging. Kate felt his arms raise from the pillows and smacked a hand to his
breastbone. “Mm-mm.” She finished the warning by pulling her mouth away,
letting her breath heat and cool the trail she'd painted.

“Kate. Oh, God,
Kate
...”
Desperate contrition shredded her name on his lips. She felt him ease into the
mattress, muscles trembling with the effort. His hands stayed put. Lucky, too;
if he had pressed things just then, Kate knew she would have been too weak to
resist.

She slid up Matthew's torso,
trailing wet kisses to his shoulder. His late-day stubble dug at her lip as she
grazed his jaw. Kate stroked palms around his taut arms, holding her mouth
above his, catching his ragged pants. It had been hours since their last real kiss.
Too long. She wanted to make him wait, to draw it out, but had reached the
limits of her discipline. Instead, she raked his mouth and darted away, again
and again, until Matthew's head came off the pillow to catch her.

Matthew brought up his knee, pressing
it firmly between her legs until she cried out. His hands might have been
forbidden, but Kate realized she should have expected him to bend the rules.

Her tongue traced the back of his
teeth. She kneaded the heel of her hand against the inside of his thigh,
Matthew's animal groans vibrating in her throat. He matched her, her every move
earning a lift of his leg, a roll of his ankle, knee grinding against her
throbbing flesh. She brushed fingertips along his temple, through the sweat
that had beaded in his hairline from self-denial.

She broke off their kiss, a little
disappointed that her enjoyment of Matthew was obviously nearing its
conclusion, and breathless at what was to come.

Sitting up, Kate scooted down his
hips and onto his thighs. She hadn't seen him look so wild-eyed since the first
night he'd come to her.
She
had done that to him. Kate marveled at the
power she had over Matthew, running hands over his chest. Some day she would
have to test just how far her power went. He arched sharply at her touch.
Just
not today
. Chuckling, she scraped a nail over the unabashedly straining
front of his breeches, tearing lose a swear that would have made a midshipman
blush.

Kate popped each button without
lifting the fabric, slowly, watching Matthew study her progress in half-lidded
anticipation. She felt it too, a heat in her breasts and belly spreading
outward like wildfire. It fed something primitive inside, whispering,
suggesting all sorts of wanton acts.         Bending her head to his waist,
Kate obeyed the whisper and dug her teeth into his flesh, just below his hip
bone. Working a hand greedily into his breeches, wrestling with the damp
clinging buckskin, she caught the length of him, freeing him with a tug that
brought Matthew clear off the bed. Grasping him firmly, she nipped and licked
down the inside of one thigh. Taut skin went rigid against her palm, coaxed by
her breath.

Matthew's fingers twisted in her
hair, pulling her mouth away. The game was over. Not that she minded in the
least. His grasp hooked her beneath the arms, dragging her to lie atop him.
“The time for
those
diversions has passed,” he whispered. His tongue
plowed her lips apart, leaving no room to mistake his meaning.

She bent an arm, reaching back and
yanking at the suddenly small, impossibly knotted tie of her petticoats.
Matthew's fingers interfered with practiced skill. He had the job done properly
in seconds, hands cupping her buttocks until she rolled beside him.

Suddenly fabric was everywhere, and
she swore the undergarment must have doubled in length since that morning. It
took an eternity to shimmy it down her legs while Matthew wrestled with the
quilt, draping it over them. She kicked the bundle of skirts free, then twice
more at the foot of the bed with frustration of more than one sort. Beside her,
Matthew's back was half turned, both arms shoved under the blanket, no doubt
working with the same fervor at his breeches. She slipped a hand into the space
between them, feeling for the band of her stocking.

He threw a desperate glance over his
shoulder and grinned. “Don't you dare pull those off, not after what I just
endured. I believe I've earned a reward.”

Matthew
had
been a very good
sport. Kate let her garters be and wriggled under the quilt. Her want of him
coiled tighter in her belly, heat spreading between her legs and down her
thighs. She hit the pillows just in time for Matthew to roll over, coming to
rest cradled between her knees. His arm hooked beneath her leg. Fingers gripped
her thigh, raising her from the sheet and thrusting with a force that jarred
her belly. She grabbed at his neck, shuddering. There was a throbbing deep
inside as her body adjusted to his rough entry, muscles already grasping,
trembling against him.

He might have been wounded, had she
guessed by his ragged cry alone, but she could see absolute satisfaction in the
steeled lines of his face when her eyes fell open again. For a moment he sank
limp against her in relief, Kate knowing it would have been the same for her,
were their positions reversed. There was a completeness when they were together
that made it impossible to do anything for a moment.

She wriggled against his weight,
raising to have more of him, and finally he worked up onto unsteady forearms.
“I swear to God, Kate, you've taught me more about discipline in twelve weeks
than the army has in twelve years.”

“Discipline is not what either of us
wants...” She tried to circle her hips against his, but Matthew relaxed his
weight, pinning her beneath. Kate was dimly aware, through her pleasure and
desperation, that Matthew had gotten the upper hand at some point.

“I want to enjoy you, Kate,” he
insisted. Raising slightly, he worked a hand between her legs, one finger
playing at the swollen flesh there. Panting, she raised from the bed, drawing
him deeper inside. He murmured something in her ear, hot and ardent, but the
words were foreign, so far away. Her entire existence was sensation. She
grabbed for anything: his hair, the bedding, and his name was a cry just
moments from her lips when he stopped. Every inch of her body ached with
disappointed need.

“Matthew please. Don't...” Kate had
no idea how to link the words to form her desperate plea, beg him to finish
what was so nearly done.

He pressed into her, slow and
relentless. “This, is this what you need?”

“No.
No
.”
Not this
.
She struggled under Matthew, her body entreating him for something more. Force,
hunger, to use and be used – anything but gentleness. His hips moved against
her again, just as easy and deliberate. She held him with her knees, gripping
his hips with frustrated pressure. He knew exactly what she wanted, and he was
making her beg.