Wedding of the Season (26 page)

“You do?”

“Yes.” She shrugged, letting the cloak fall away from her shoulders as she turned toward him. “Because I’m the one who’s usually in that position on these adventures of ours, and you’re the one who’s all breezy and confident.”

“Yes, well, that’s often just an act.” He raked a hand through his hair as she halted in front of him. “Pure bravado on my part.”

She slid her arms around his neck. “There’s nothing to be nervous about, you know,” she said, stood up on her toes, and kissed him. “I don’t bite.”

He cupped her face, and when his lips parted, hers did, too. He took her mouth in a long, slow kiss, then his hands slid between them. As he unbuttoned her jacket, his knuckles brushed her breasts, and arousal flared instantly, like lighting a match. But he knew he had to keep it in check, for he had a long way to go tonight if he was to win more than her body. Even as he reminded himself of that, he paused to cup her breasts in his hands, and as his palms embraced them, he realized she wasn’t wearing a corset.

He knew what her breasts looked like, for the image of her disrobing in front of him a week earlier was still vivid in his mind, and as he imagined it again, shaping her breasts in his palms, his arousal deepened and spread.

After a moment, he reluctantly slid his hands away from her breasts. He yanked the hem of her shirtwaist out of her Turkish trousers, and he broke their kiss so he could see what he was doing as he began unfastening the buttons down the front of her shirtwaist. It was an agonizingly slow process, for the buttons were tiny, and there were dozens of them. It didn’t help that his hands were shaking as he strove to keep his desire in check.

“Just so you know,” he said, trying to sound terribly man-of-the-world, “next time I tell you I’m going to seduce you, wear something easy to unfasten.”

She sniffed. “Well, next time,” she said, matching his blasé tone, “I might not let you seduce me at all.”

He stopped, chagrined that he already seemed to be taking her for granted again. “No?”

“No. I might seduce you first.”

He laughed at that, and the tension inside him suddenly broke apart. “You just might at that,” he said, desire replacing nervousness as he unfastened the buttons down the front of her shirtwaist. “It won’t take much,” he assured her. “Just smile and say hullo the minute you see me.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all. I’ll be putty in your hands after that. Trust me.”

“Trust you?” She tilted her head, as if considering it. “I’m not sure when you are unbuttoning my shirtwaist, you can be trusted.”

He laughed again, a low, throaty chuckle. “You have a point.” He slid her shirtwaist off her shoulders, and as it joined her jacket on the floor, he caught his breath, for he could see the faint circle of her nipples beneath the thin lawn fabric of her chemise, and his arousal ignited into full-blown lust. He had to see her breasts again. Right now. He couldn’t wait a moment longer.

“Lift your arms,” he ordered, and when she did, he grasped the hem of her chemise and tugged it up over her head, baring her body from the waist up.

His throat went dry at the sight, for she was even lovelier now than the image in his mind from their night at Angel’s Head. He cupped her breasts again, savoring the lush, full shape of them in his palms. He toyed with them, caressing the satiny white skin and velvety pink nipples, until he could hear her breath coming in little catching gasps.

“You love me,” he said, rolling her nipples in his fingers. “You do. Admit it. Say you’ll marry me and come to Egypt with me.”

She shook her head, and he knew she wasn’t ready to concede anything yet. Her hands came up, pushing his aside. For a moment he thought she was pushing him away, but instead, she began to unbutton his shirt, and it was her turn to start issuing orders. “Take it off.”

“I can’t.” He lifted his wrists. “You didn’t undo my cuffs.”

“Oh.” She laughed and reached for one, fumbling with his silver cuff links, and as she turned to drop them onto his dressing table, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

She turned back around, and when she did, she immediately reached out to touch him. He inhaled sharply, tilting back his head at the feel of her hands on him, wondering how he was going to bear this long enough to get them both undressed.

But he endured it, for it was sweet, unbearably sweet, to feel her palms glide over his skin as she touched his arms, his shoulders, and his chest, but by the time she reached his abdomen, he couldn’t take any more.

Gently but firmly, he took control back from her. “If you keep torturing me this way,” he said, grasping her wrists to pull her hands down, “this is going to be a very short seduction.”

She slanted him a wicked look. “And that would be bad because . . . ?”

“Because you haven’t told me you love me yet.” Before she could reply, he captured her mouth with his, kissing her deep and slow as he unfastened the buttons of her trousers. “I’ve told you that I love you,” he went on as he shoved the trousers down her hips, “and I’m waiting for reciprocity.”

He didn’t get it. She leaned forward to press a kiss to his chest instead, and lifted her hands to the waistband of his trousers as if to unfasten them as he had unfastened hers. But he knew he couldn’t let her. He was rock hard, and if she started touching him there, he’d never be able to hold out long enough to do this properly. They had waited years and years for this, and he had no intention of spoiling their first time by going too fast. Besides, he had another objective in view, one that was just as important to him.

He gently but firmly pushed her hands aside. “I love you,” he said, and slid his palms up and down her hips. “Do you love me?” She didn’t answer, and he slowly eased one hand between her thighs to cup her mound.

She gasped and her knees dipped a little, but she still didn’t say what he wanted to hear. He maneuvered his fingers into the slit of her drawers, ignoring how her legs instinctively clamped together around his hand, but when he touched the silken wetness of her core, he realized he’d moved too fast, for he hadn’t even gotten her boots off yet.

Reluctantly he pulled his hand back. “The footboard is behind you,” he told her, and maneuvered her backward to sit on its edge.

She did, her fingers curling around the brass railing as he knelt in front of her. He lifted her foot, grasped the heel and instep, and pulled off her riding boot. After he’d repeated the process, he tossed both boots to a corner of the room, and pulled her trousers all the way off. He then pulled off her garters and slid off her stockings, tickling the backs of her knees. She breathed his name on a sigh.

“Like that, do you?” He slid his fingertips in slow, coaxing circles.

She nodded, tipping her head back as he ran his hands up her thighs to the waistband of her drawers. He untied the ribbon and began pulling the garment down. “Lift your hips a little.”

When she did, he was able to pull the drawers down, and as they slid to her ankles, he sat back on his knees and took a long look at her.

He’d seen her in so many ways, and in every way she was beautiful, but now, this way, with her head tilted back and lips parted with desire and her body fully bared to him for lovemaking, she had never seemed more beautiful. Her breasts rose and fell with her rapid breathing, round and full, their nipples a rich brownish-pink in the lamplight. The curls at the apex of her thighs were dark gold, and her skin was like warmed alabaster.

Again he touched her breasts, caressing them, shaping them, toying with them. Her breathing quickened further, her arousal heightening, and he took advantage of the moment. “Love me?” he asked, leaning in, one of her breasts cupped in his palm as he opened his mouth over the other.

She moaned, arching toward him, and he suckled her nipple, then pulled back to flick it teasingly with his tongue, striving to keep his desire in check as he worked to stoke hers as high as he could. “Do you?”

She didn’t answer, but her hand slid into his hair, cradling his head, trying to draw him closer. He didn’t come closer. Instead, he decided it was time for more ruthless tactics. He began kissing his way down her stomach.

Her fingers worked convulsively in his hair. “Will,” she wailed softly. “Oh, oh.”

He pulled back long enough to draw breath, then he pressed his mouth to the golden curls at the apex of her thighs. She cried out, her hips jerking, but he grasped her hips to hold her still and began to caress her with his tongue, stroking the crease of her sex over and over, lightly, gently, relentlessly.

He eased his hold on her hips, and her body responded at once, moving against his mouth. Her breath began coming in little gasps. He kept lashing her with gentle strokes of his tongue until she was trembling all over and those soft, sweet wails of climax were coming from her throat.

With a final, shuddering gasp, she collapsed, panting, and he stood up, catching her before she fell, lifting her into his arms. He carried her to the side of the bed and laid her down. His gaze locked with hers, he began to strip off his remaining clothes. “Do you love me?” he asked, yanking off his boots.

Wordless, she stared at him. She wanted to answer, say no. But she couldn’t. Nor could she say yes. He was demanding something that she couldn’t give him. She could give him her body. Indeed, that was why she’d come tonight. But she couldn’t give him her heart. Because he was leaving, and if she gave him her heart, she might never get it back.

Her gaze lowered to his hands as he unbuttoned his trousers. As he slid them down his hips along with his linen, she had to look. When she did, she inhaled a sharp, surprised breath at the sight of him so flagrantly aroused. Good Lord, she thought, with sudden understanding of just how he’d done what he’d done the other night. Seeing him like this explained it all.

He waited, letting her have a good, long look, then he bent down to retrieve that black velvet pouch from the floor and removed one of those rubber disks. She stared in amazement as he slid it along the length of his shaft, sheathing himself with a thin veneer of rubber. She made a choked sound, and felt her courage slipping.

He sensed it. He leaned over to kiss her mouth, and eased his body down onto hers before she could change her mind. She opened her arms, a bit reassured, thinking she knew what to expect next. He rested his weight on one arm, suspended above her, and his hand eased that hard, aroused part of his body between her thighs.

“Beatrix, listen to me.” His voice sounded hoarse, his breathing labored. “I can’t contain this any longer. I love you, and I was going to wait, hold out until you admitted you love me, too, but I can’t. I . . . just can’t.” He smiled, but she could tell it was forced. “You know me. So impatient.”

She touched his face, kissed him. She didn’t want to hear any more, because she couldn’t give him what he wanted and she wouldn’t use love as a way to make him stay. “Don’t apologize,” she whispered, moving her hips, appreciating how tempting it would be. “Just do it, Will. We’ve waited long enough.”

He shook his head. When she moved again, sliding her thighs against his shaft, he gritted his teeth. “Don’t, for the love of God. Don’t move. Listen.”

He took a deep breath, as if striving for control. Sweat glistened on his chest, on his forehead, and his breathing was becoming harsher by the moment. “No adventure we’ve ever been on has hurt you, but this one will, Trix. It’s going to hurt. No getting around that.”

As he spoke, his hips began rocking slowly against hers, and she could feel the hard part of him rubbing the place he had kissed her and stroked her before, and that delicious pleasure washed over her again. She arched into him as she had done before, and the pleasure grew stronger, hotter. She moaned.

“Christ,” he breathed, and shifted his body to rest his weight on his forearms, burying his face against her neck, and flexed his hips against her. That hard part of him pressed deeper onto her and then, just as before, into her.

She didn’t understand. She was caught up in a sensuous, bewildered haze, and as his body entered her, it felt just the same as it had before. It didn’t hurt. Perhaps she’d misunderstood.

Suddenly he thrust hard, shoving himself deeper into her, and she heard herself cry out as sudden, burning pain seared her from the inside. She hadn’t misunderstood, she realized in hot chagrin. He’d told her the truth.

He covered her mouth with his, catching her sob of shock and pain in his kiss. He held himself rigid above her, kissing her everywhere—her hair, her throat, her cheek, her mouth. “It’ll be all right. I promise it will. I love you, Trix. I love you.”

As he spoke to her and kissed her, the pain began to recede. “I’m all right, Will,” she whispered, wriggling her hips, trying to accustom herself to this coupling business.

He began to move, slowly at first, then more quickly, his thrusts against her becoming stronger and deeper. His eyes were closed, his lips parted, and it was almost as if he’d forgotten about her, but he was stroking her hair and saying her name, and she realized he was simply caught up in the pleasure of her body. She smiled, liking that.

She pushed upward, and he groaned, his arms sliding beneath her as if to pull her closer when he already seemed as close to her as he could possibly be, and she began to think perhaps this part of it might be tolerable after all. She felt sore inside, but that first searing pain had passed. She thrust up again, striving to move with him.