A Taste of Seduction (An Unlikely Husband) (28 page)

Dear God, give me strength
.

“Is something wrong, Alexander?”

He shook his head, narrowing his gaze on a crack in the middle of the white wall. It ran along a jagged path, dipping and disappearing behind her. He blinked hard.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

“I will,” he said. “I need a moment to collect myself.”

“Collect yourself?”

“Only a moment.” He closed his eyes against the temptation of her naked body mere inches from him. If he stretched out his hand, he could touch her soft silkiness.

“Don’t you want me?”

His eyes flew open. “Want you?” he croaked. He let out a harsh laugh that held no humor. “That’s the problem. I want you too much. I want you so much I’m afraid I won’t be gentle enough and I don’t want to hurt you.” His gaze ran the length of her body. “I’m trying to ‘collect’ myself so I can behave like a proper lover should, with care and concern.” He cleared his throat. “And restraint.”

Francie closed the distance between them and touched his arm. “Perhaps I wouldn’t mind so much if you weren’t such a ‘proper’ lover,” she said, her voice melting over him like warm honey. “Perhaps, I would rather enjoy an ‘improper’ lover. But I think what I would enjoy most of all,” she said, her sky-blue eyes meeting his, “is making love with Alexander, the man, and not some image or expectation. Just the man,” she whispered, rising up on tiptoe to brush her lips against his. “Just you.”

That was it. He let out a growl and pulled her into his arms, plundering her mouth with his tongue. He wanted her so badly and she’d just offered him the greatest gift of all—herself. His hands were everywhere on her body, learning, possessing. He edged his way to the bed and eased her onto the counterpane, breaking the kiss only long enough to kick off his boots and untie his cravat. Skin to skin, that’s what he needed. His fingers trembled as he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside.

“Let me feel you, Alexander.” Francie reached up and urged him toward her. “Let me feel your skin against mine.”

The most seasoned courtesan couldn’t have spoken more sensual words. Heat shot through his body, burning his blood, pounding over him and into him. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking.” A fine sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead as he fought for control. And lost.

“I’m on fire. Everywhere you touch me,” she whispered. “I need...I need...”

“I know what you need,” he murmured. He rolled to his side and laid a hand on her flat belly. She sucked in her breath as his fingers inched down, tracing the inside of her thighs.

“Oh, Alexander,” she said on a sigh.

He stroked the swollen flesh of her nubbin, first fast, then slow, then fast again, delighting in the way her hips moved with the rhythm of his hand.

“Oh, no,” he murmured, brushing a kiss against the slender column of her neck. “Not yet. We’ve only begun to explore.” He trailed his hand to the opening of her woman’s heat and inserted the tip of one finger.

She moved against him and moaned. He loved the soft little mewls she made when he touched her. In the dim glow of the candle, he watched her face flush with arousal. His wife-to-be would prove a most exhilarating bed partner. How very fortunate for him. Leaning over, he took a pale pink nipple in his mouth.

Francie cried out in unmistakable pleasure and buried her hands in his hair.

Alexander laved the peak, his tongue circling and flicking her flesh. She felt so good, so right. He wanted more.
He wanted all of her
. He worked his finger into the depth of her heat, so slick and hot. So ready for him. As he stretched her, his thumb stroked and circled the peak of her desire. Once. She let out a long moan. Twice. Her hands dug deeper into his hair. Three times. Her hips jerked off the bed. Four. She screamed and her whole body shook with tiny spasms.

Yes, he was very fortunate indeed.

He pulled Francie into his arms and cradled her, planting tender kisses along her brow and forehead.

“Was that what you needed, Francie?” She buried her head in his chest. “Look at me.” He lifted her chin with his finger. “Never be embarrassed with me. I love giving you pleasure.” One side of his mouth curved upwards as he added, “And I hope to give it to you every night, from our wedding night on.”

“And what of you? I want to give you pleasure, too.”

Spoken with such absolute innocence. Alexander cleared his throat.

“Let me give you pleasure.” Her voice dipped to a husky whisper, and his erection jerked in response. “Teach me how. Will you do that, Alexander?” she asked, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek. “Will you teach me to give you pleasure every night as well?”

“Of course,” he croaked. It was all he could manage. The notion of making love to Francie every night robbed him of all sensible thought.

“Thank you,” she murmured, smiling at him.
Thank you?
She was thanking him for allowing her to make love to him? He blinked hard. If she didn’t stop saying those things in that low, velvety voice of hers, the lesson would be over before it began and she’d have thanked him for nothing.

“I’m a little nervous,” she confessed.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised.

“Just be you, Alexander. That’s all I want. That,” she said, running her hand down his arm, “and a kiss. I love the feel of your lips against mine, your tongue in my—”

She got no further. Alexander devoured her with his mouth, his tongue plunging into the sweet recesses, mating with hers. Her fingers yanked at the waistband of his trousers, found the buttons and fumbled with them until they popped opened. He groaned when she slid the trousers from his hips and his erection sprang free. When her hands found his penis, he thought he’d explode.

He dragged his mouth from hers and said in a ragged voice, “For God’s sake, Francie, I’m only a man. I can’t take much more.”

“You feel like velvet,” she whispered, stroking the tip of him, “so hard...and yet so soft.” Her fingers worked the length of him, circling his shaft until he thought he would die. Or explode. Or both.

When she tightened her grip, he growled and pulled her hand away. “I have to have you. Now. ” He yanked off his trousers and settled over her, spreading her legs wide. He’d never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Francie. He grabbed her hips and pushed into her heat with slow, steady strokes until he reached her maiden’s barrier. “I’ll try to be gentle,” he promised.

She smiled and touched the jagged trail of his scar. He pushed into her then, breaching her maidenhead with one deep plunge. Her face contorted in pain and she cried out. Alexander gathered her to him until the cry melded to a whimper and disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her hair. “If I could have saved you from the pain, I would have.”

“It...it’s starting to ease,” she murmured. “It doesn’t hurt as much now.”

Alexander brushed a tangle of red hair from her forehead and searched her face. “Next time will be better.”

“Next time?” The disappointment in her eyes could not disguise the truth. She didn’t want to share his bed again.

“Well, yes.” He stumbled with the words, forced them out again, “Next time.”

“Oh.” She looked away, gnawed on her lower lip.

Alexander drew in a deep breath and sighed.

“Alexander?”

“Hmm?” He didn’t trust himself to speak yet.

“When you said next time,” she asked, her voice both shy and curious, “did you mean we’re finished? Because I thought there’d be...more...” her voice trailed off.

His head shot up. “More what?”

She gave him a helpless look. “More. Just more.”

Oh, thank God
. Alexander threw back his head and laughed, something he didn’t do very often and certainly never in bed with a woman. But the laughter rolled over him in gulping waves and soon Francie laughed, too.

“What did I say?”

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “It was the way you said next time, as though you were dreading it. I thought you hated having me inside of you.” He traced the swell of her breast. “And I thought you wouldn’t want me there again for a very long time.”

She lowered her voice and said, “I thought it was over and frankly, I was a little disappointed.” She wriggled her hips. “As for not wanting you there, well, it’s quite pleasant once one becomes accustomed to the sensation.” She moved her hips again and laughed when she saw him clench his jaw. “Yes, I’d say
quite
pleasant.”

“Witch,” he growled, capturing her mouth in a fierce kiss as he drove into her. “My lovemaking is not pleasant.” He nipped at her breasts. “Pleasant is a word used to describe Sunday afternoon rides in the park.” His tongue rolled around a pale nipple. Francie gasped, as he grabbed her legs and lifted them over his back.

He thrust into her with long, steady strokes, deeper each time.

“No...
not...pleasant...” Francie panted, trying to speak through her desire. “You’re incredible. You...feel...incredible.”

Alexander pulled out slowly and then plunged into her again.
And again. She moaned and jerked her hips toward him, her face a vision of pure ecstasy.

He came undone, one delicious moan at a time. Francie scorched his very soul. Her silky skin under his fingertips teased him, the taste of her breasts tormented him, the sight of her wild and free in his arms pushed him past the boundaries of sensuality. He drove into her one last time and cried out her name as he spilled his seed deep inside her.

She jerked her hips and screamed his name in a release that made him hope half of Amberden hadn’t heard her.

“Oh, Alexander,” she murmured, snuggling into the shelter of his arms.

He sighed and buried his face in her hair. He’d never known such utter contentment in his entire life.

Francie raised her arms above her head and stretched, letting out a loud, unladylike yawn. Soon, Mr. Pib would inch toward her from the foot of the bed, eager for his
“good morning” scratch behind the ears and rub on the stomach.

Her eyes flew open. Mr. Pib would not be coming for his morning scratch because she was
not
at Drakemoor. She was at Amberden. In her old room. In her old bed. She looked down. Naked. She pulled the covers up to her neck.

Visions of last night bombarded her in bright, bold,
intimate
detail. Heat poured over her, stealing her breath as she remembered how she’d given herself to Alexander. Several times. Several ways. He’d shown her things she never could have imagined possible. And then, when they were lying in each other’s arms, exhausted and still trying to calm their breathing, desire would roll over them again. How could she ever have thought making love with Alexander as pleasant?

“Good morning.”

She jerked her head toward the door and yanked the covers to her chin. The object of last night’s pleasure stood in the doorway holding two steaming mugs. His black hair stuck out in places, though from the look of it, he’d tried to wet it down. He hadn’t shaved either, which gave him an even darker, more brooding appearance than usual. His partially buttoned shirt bore several wrinkles and his trousers were just as unkempt. He looked wonderful.

“Good morning.” Shyness overtook her as visions of last night flitted through her head. There was no way to act ladylike now, not after everything they’d done. He walked into the room and handed her a mug. She held out one hand while clutching the blanket with the other.

Alexander’s mouth twitched when he saw her predicament. He leaned over and said in his too-low voice that made her hot and cold at the same time, “Francie, there’s nothing under there I haven’t already seen.” His gaze swept the length of the blanket. “Or touched.”

Her cheeks burned. Of course he knew she wore no clothes. He’d removed every stitch of them, hadn’t he? But did he have to remind her?

“Or kissed,” he continued. Yes. It seemed he did. He kissed the tip of her nose. “Don’t be embarrassed. We shared something beautiful last night, beautiful and very rare.”

That drew her attention. “You mean…” She darted a glance at him. “That’s not what normally happens between a man and a woman?”

He lifted a black brow at her question. “No,” he said, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Not normally.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh,” he repeated, raising the mug to her lips.

She took a sip of tea. “Thank you,” she murmured, considering what he’d said. If what happened last night between them did not normally happen, then...what did? How was it different? Most of all, had Alexander ever experienced that same “not normally” feeling with Lady Printon?

“What happened last night between us...” She pushed past her embarrassment. “Has that ever happened to you with Lady Printon?”

He stared at her as though she’d asked him if he’d ever considered wearing a gown and pantaloons. “That is not something a gentleman discusses, especially with his betrothed.”

Her shoulders slumped. Of course, he wasn’t going to tell her. And she’d bet it wasn’t just because of gentlemen’s discretion. Lady Printon was a widow and she’d been Alexander’s mistress. She knew much more about men than Francie’s little thimble of knowledge. A woman like her knew about the “not normally” of intimacy. Had she thought he’d actually say, “No, Francie, I’ve never experienced anything like I did with you last night”? Well, she’d gotten her answer and he hadn’t even uttered a word.