Confessions at Midnight (15 page)

Again he tried to speak, but again she robbed him of the ability when she pushed off from the door and moved toward him with a sway of her hips that could only be described as sinful. He was helpless to stop his body's swift reaction, and he inwardly shook his head. Hard as a damn brick and she hadn't even touched him. She halted when an arm's length separated them, and if he'd been capable of moving, he surely would have snatched her against him.

"I believe I was the last one who spoke," she said, sounding faintly amused.

He had to swallow twice to locate his voice. "No doubt because you've rendered me speechless. You look so… so…" Once again his gaze skimmed down her form and a groan rose in his throat. "Like a wicked angel."

"You sent me some lovely gifts this morning."

"If this is your way of thanking me, I'll empty my conservatory of flowers every day."

Mischief danced in her eyes. "I haven't even begun to thank you."

The aplomb she'd momentarily stolen returned-thank God, because she'd reduced him to a slack-jawed gawker-and he erased the distance between them in one step. Sliding his arms around her waist, he drew her closer, until they touched from chest to knee. He lowered his head until his lips hovered just above hers then asked, "What did you have in mind?"

"If I tell you, it will ruin the surprise." She entwined her arms around his neck and rose up on her toes to brush her mouth against his.

A shudder ran through him, and it required every ounce of his strength not to simply back her up against the wall and drive himself into her. Bloody hell, the way she repeatedly stripped him of his mastery over himself, reduced him to such a state and so damn quickly completely unsettled him. Although there was no denying that this playful, seductive side of her delighted as well as surprised him.

Yet even as it did delight him, he couldn't help but wonder if she was truly thinking about
him
, seeing
him
-or if he were simply a stand-in for Edward.

A spurt of unreasonable jealousy rippled through him at the thought of her thinking about Edward while she kissed him. Then he shot himself an inward frown. Bloody ridiculous to be jealous of a dead man. He didn't want her heart and soul. Only her body. And clearly he was going to have his wish. He couldn't ask for anything more. He didn't care if she pictured Edward in her mind.

Did he?

No, of course not.

He lifted his head and wondered if something of his thoughts showed on his face because a small frown creased her brow. Leaning back in the circle of his arms, she asked, "Are you displeased?"

His gaze lingered on the generous curve of her breasts pressed against him. "Hardly. In fact, I'd be willing to wager that I am currently the most pleased man in the entire kingdom."

"Excellent." She stepped back and his hands fell to his sides. He locked his knees to keep himself in place. As much as he wanted to drag her to the floor, strip off that robe, and touch and taste every inch of her skin, he also very much wanted to see what she would do next.

He didn't have long to wait.

His gaze dropped to her waist, where her fingers played with her robe's knotted sash. "Your plans for us this afternoon-were they urgent?" she asked.

"Nothing that can't wait."

"Do you like my robe?"

"Very much."

"Would you like me to take it off?"

His gaze lifted to hers.
Only more than I want to draw my next breath
. "Very much."

Mischief glittered in her eyes and she nibbled on her bottom lip. "The only problem is I'll be… naked."

"Personally, I fail to see how that's a problem."

"Well, it is in so far as you
won't
be."

"My very dear Carolyn, are you asking me to…
disrobe
?" He said the last word in an exaggerated, shocked tone.

"If you wouldn't mind too terribly."

"Not
too
terribly, I suppose-if it will please you."

"Oh, it will please me very much. Although there is one thing that would please me more."

"Hmmm. I'm beginning to think you're rather demanding."

Her lips curved upward in a teasing smile. "Wait until we're both undressed."

A quick laugh that turned into a groan of pure lust escaped him. He'd known from the first time he kissed her that a passionate woman lurked beneath her very proper exterior, but he hadn't anticipated this delightful creature standing before him, her eyes gleaming with wicked impishness. "I cannot wait. What is your request?"

"I'd like to help you undress."

He blew out an exaggerated sigh. "A truly monstrous demand, but I'll endeavor not to complain overly much."

She reached out and traced the outline of his erection with a single fingertip, a whisper of a caress that nearly stopped his heart.

"Good," she said, her voice a sensual purr. Her fingers glided upward, to lightly tug at his jacket. "Would now be convenient?"

"Now is perfect."

She helped him off with his jacket, then carefully laid the dark blue garment over the back of one of the wing chairs. When she applied herself to his cravat, he offered up a quick mental thanks that he hadn't employed a complicated knot.

Still, she seemed to be having trouble, and after several aborted attempts her fingers stilled and she looked up from her task. All traces of mischief in her eyes had been replaced by a serious and suddenly unsure expression. "I… I haven't done this in a very long time," she whispered.

He gently took her hands and lifted them to his lips. "I know. Take your time. There's no need to rush." He gave her a light, teasing nudge with his pelvis. "All physical evidence to the contrary, I'm not in a hurry. I love the feel of your hands on me."

"But what if…" That look of uncertainty grew more pronounced. "What if I don't please you?"

If she hadn't looked so utterly worried, he would have laughed at the absurdity of the question. Releasing her hands, he framed her face between his palms and brushed his thumbs over her smooth cheeks. "Carolyn, there is no possible way you could displease me. If you have any concern, it should be that I will keep you in this room for the next fortnight. Or two. Possibly even three. Maybe more." He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers. "Don't stop. And if your hands shake a bit, know that mine are shaking as well. From wanting you so very much."

She lifted her head, and he was relieved to see her eyes no longer held traces of concern. "How do you always know the right thing to say?"

"I don't. You simply inspire me." He glanced down at his cravat. "Care to continue what you started?"

"Will you help me?"

"With pleasure."

While she worked on his cravat, he removed his waistcoat and pulled his shirt tails from his breeches. He then settled his hands at his sides and forced himself to wait patiently while she finished. When she finally completed her task, he helped her pull his shirt over his head. The garment sailed to the floor and she settled her hands on his chest. That first touch dragged a low groan from his tight throat.

"Oh, my," she whispered, slowly smoothing her hands upward, over his shoulders.

Oh my, indeed. Her gentle explorations were driving him mad. "I've fantasized about you touching me like this," he said, a shudder running through him.

"You have?"

"More times than I can count." Surely he shouldn't have admitted that, but he couldn't seem to help himself. "The fantasy was always good, but the reality is much more pleasurable than I ever imagined."

Her fingers lightly skimmed over his abdomen, and his muscles jumped in response. "You're very… nicely made."

He settled his hands on her hips and lightly squeezed. "So are you."

She traced the line of skin just above the waist of his breeches. "I'd very much like for these to come off."

"We are in complete agreement." Taking her hand, he led her to the couch, where he sat and pulled off his boots and stockings. Then he stood and together they unfastened the front placard of his breeches. He quickly skimmed them and his smalls down his legs then stepped out of the garments.

The relief he experienced by freeing himself from the constricting confines of his breeches instantly evaporated when she brushed her fingertips over the head of his erection. His eyes slammed shut and he sucked in a hissing breath, one he held when his lungs ceased to function as her fingers slowly glided up and down his length.

Just when he didn't think he could take any more, she stopped, which left him on the brink of begging her to continue. Forcing his eyes open, he watched her pluck the rose from the silver vase. The look she gave him made him feel as if fire licked beneath his skin.

"You demonstrated a new use for roses last night." She slowly circled the velvety flower around the head of his erection. "Turnabout is only fair."

A low groan escaped him. "Turnabout is going to drive me mad."

"I have a confession to make," she whispered, wrapping her fingers around his shaft while she continued to tease the flower around the head.

He locked his knees and released a slow, careful breath. And once again had to recall how to speak. "Confession?" he managed.

"Yes. And it's nowhere near midnight."

"I'm afraid I won't make it that long. Especially if you keep doing-
aaaahhhh
… that."

"Just as well. You told me confessions at midnight lead to danger."

"Danger. Yes." Which precisely described his current situation-he stood in imminent danger of losing the remainder of his rapidly vanishing control. He gritted his teeth against the intense pleasure her touch and teasing strokes of the rose inflicted upon him. He endured the sweet torture until the need to climax approached overwhelming. Then with a shuddering breath he reached out and lightly grasped her wrists.

"If by danger you mean I'm at risk of arriving unfashionably early to the party." He placed the rose on the table, set her hands at her sides, then reached for the sash on her robe. "You said earlier that it would be a problem if you were the only one who was naked. Now I'm afraid I must say the same thing to you."

"You want me naked?"

He flicked a pointed look at his erection. "Obviously."

A devilish gleam lit her eyes. "How much?"

If she had any idea how much, it might very well scare her. God knows it scared him. The knot came free and he slipped his hands inside the satin and skimmed them up her smooth back.

"I'd be hard pressed to think of anything I want more at the moment," he said, slowly easing the material off her shoulders.

"A million pounds?" she suggested in a teasing voice.

The satin slipped down her arms and pooled at her feet with a quiet
shush
, and Daniel's avid gaze roamed. Over smooth, creamy skin. Full breasts topped with aroused coral nipples that seemed to beg for his touch. The gentle curve of her waist and indent of her navel. A triangle of honey-gold curls at the apex of lush thighs that tapered down to slim ankles and the dainty arch of her bare feet.

"Once again, I believe it is your turn to speak," she said.

"I would, except it appears I'm completely out of words. Except to say that you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." Reaching out, he cupped her breasts. "The softest I've ever touched." He stepped forward then leaned down and touched his lips to the curve where her neck and shoulder met. "You smell so good." His fingers caressed her taut nipples. "Feel so good." He ran his tongue over her plump bottom lip. "Taste so good."

"That's quite a few words. All of which I liked…"

Her words drifted off into a vaporous sigh when he leaned down and drew a nipple into his mouth. While he'd spoken the truth, it would have been far more accurate to say no woman, ever, had felt so good. Tasted so delicious. Ever.

She threaded her fingers through his hair and arched her back, offering more of herself, an invitation he instantly accepted. He drew the tight bud of her nipple deeper into his mouth while his free hand skimmed down her back to cup the enticing curve of her bottom, urging her closer. His hand wandered lower and hooked beneath her thigh, lifting her leg and settling it high on his hip. His fingers glided over her sex and a growl vibrated in his throat.

Lifting his head, he looked at her flushed face and closed eyes. "You're so wet." He slipped two fingers inside her and she gasped, then groaned. "So tight and hot."

And he was so damn hard and she felt so damn good and he'd wanted her for so damn long. He simply couldn't wait any longer. Bloody hell, he was practically shaking. Slipping his fingers from her body, he scooped her up in his arms then gently laid her on the couch, following her down with his body. Settling himself between her splayed thighs, he propped his weight on his forearms and leisurely rubbed the head of his penis along her wet cleft, watching every nuance that passed over her flushed face.

"Open your eyes, Carolyn."

She dragged her lids upward and their gazes met. Her eyes were glazed with arousal, but she somehow seemed more focused on the act itself rather than who was making love to her. And he wanted her aware, very much aware, of who was making love to her.

"Say my name," he demanded, his voice hoarse, muscles straining with the effort to hold back.

She blinked, then studied his face. After several long seconds she finally whispered, "Daniel."

Something that felt like relief washed through him. He slipped just inside her, then paused. "Say it again."

"Daniel."

He glided in another inch. "Again."

She reached up and sifted her fingers through his hair. "Daniel." Arching beneath him, she repeated, "Daniel… Daniel."

With a groan, he thrust deep. His gaze never leaving hers, he slowly withdrew, gritting his teeth against the erotic, tight pull of her body. Then he stroked her deeply once more, the slow, slick glide into her wet heat peeling away another layer of his control. Again and again he sank into her, each thrust deepening, quickening. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, meeting his every movement. His lungs burned with his rapid breaths, every muscle straining with the effort he expended to hold off his release until she climaxed. The effort damn near killed him.