Seducing the Rake (Mad, Bad and Dangerous Heroes) (31 page)

“Yes. Oh, yes, I’ve never been so sure.” In the candlelight her skin shone gold, tinged with a hectic flush of arousal.

“Ah, Cricket. You’re all gold and silk, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And I don’t think I can wait much—”

“Don’t—please.
Don’t
wait!”

His fingers slid into clinging silk. Into forbidden heat.

Chessy gasped, bit by a blinding wave of desire.

“You see, I always have loved you, Cricket.” His voice was harsh with strain. “Even when I disgraced a friend to think of his daughter in such a way. But now you’re a woman, and I mean to have you. I want to drink your moans against my lips, then watch you shudder and catch fire when I take you straight up into starlight.”

As those rough, tender words settled over her, it seemed that she was a creature of sea and night, caught in webs of silver, anchored by tides of desire. And with will and reason shattered, she could not find the strength to swim free.

Morland’s eyes never wavered as he palmed her. “A thousand forbidden dreams—a thousand torments. But they were worth it for me to feel what I’m feeling now. To touch you like this and watch your joy.”

And then deep, so deep. Heat on heat and never enough.

Body on fire, Chessy twisted, seeking all he had to give and all that she could give in return. Her choked sigh hung in the air as passion exploded through her anew.

She cried out, lost to anything but him and this blinding sensation he showed her. His strong fingers moved, parting fold upon liquid fold until he found the throbbing pearl where sensation flooded.

Chessy cried out at his touch. Her eyes flew open as passion broke through her in blinding waves.

Tony had to close his eyes then, denying himself the sight of her wild beauty. He shifted, trying to ease the ache where his manhood rose in painful arousal.

Closing his eyes didn’t help, of course. He still saw her. He still
felt
her.

And then he could wait no longer. He pushed her thigh high. His eyes darkened and breath came hoarse and heavy as he brushed her hot, wet haven. She arched beneath him, her foot driving against his rigid thigh as she fought for a deeper release.

Morland drew her up again, letting her hunger build through the struggle cost him more and more. Her breathy little whimpers were driving him mad, making him shudder with the need to pound deep and claim his own release.

She was hot, so tight.

Her nails curved and sank into his hips.
“Tony!
You must—I can’t wait.”

Morland shuddered. Sweat dotted his brow.

Now. Oh, yes, now…

Deep he fell, then deeper still. In a long slide of purest velvet he drove through the wet, swollen petals of her sex.

And then he felt the barrier. The threshold she still had to cross to leave behind her maidenhood.

His jaw locked. So there had been no others. He was truly her first. He stiffened, feeling guilt cut through him. She ought to have more. She ought to have someone much younger, much stronger. A man without shadows and regrets.

“T-Tony?”

He groaned. Guilt and regret fell away forgotten as he felt her tighten urgently around him. “It’s—it’s going to hurt, Chessy. Just a little. Just—at first.”

She twisted. He wondered if she even heard him. Her fingers were clinging, trembling.

“But not for long, I swear it.” Carefully he moved, feeling the barrier beneath him. He eased deeper, giving her time to grow accustomed to his size.

Then he rose up and plunged swiftly, driving through the thin membrane in one smooth thrust. Despite his care he felt her go rigid beneath him, her nails driven hard against his back while she gasped.

Morland cursed the dark tides of pleasure that screamed for him to move, to shove, to take and take and take until he drowned in her heat.

But he didn’t move. He didn’t do any of the things his blood screamed for him to do. What he needed right now was not to
take
but to
share.

Finally he heard Chessy draw a shaky breath. Her voice was unsteady, but full of forced optimism. “So … that was it. It was not … not precisely what I thought it would be. Still—that is … perhaps I’m not experienced enough.”

Tony cut her off with a swift, hard kiss upon her trembling lips. “You sweet, idiotic fool, how much you delight me! And your experience shall begin now.”

He smiled down at her and began to move once more—slowly, easily this time, now that the barrier was gone. He gave her slow heat and shimmering friction. Restless, lapping desire.

“Oh!” She squirmed, suddenly breathless. “But I thought it was over.”

“No, it’s not over, my foolish one. Not
nearly
over. Did you think I would leave you wanting, my wonderful, innocent, stubborn beauty?”

With a moan she pressed upward and he sank down to meet her. He had to move carefully, for she was small and so utterly tight that he wanted to scream with the pleasure of her body where he rode her deep.

“Tony! You’re so—it’s too—”

He shuddered at the husky catch of pleasure in her voice. He concentrated on the rich contralto of it, holding his own need at bay.

Every hot glide of friction left him rock hard. Every husky gasp from her throat left him aflame.

He felt her tremors begin, deep where she sheathed him. Her heels dug into the sheets, and her back arched.

“I’ll be your heart,” he whispered as the passion took her high and free and soaring. “I’ll be your friend, Chessy. Your forever friend.”

He locked his jaw and fought his own desire, watching the beauty of her passion, feeling it break over him like a long-forgotten promise.

I’ll be the man who loved you first and best, my sweet Chessy.

Then he began to move again, while her woman’s flesh still clung, while her eyes still shimmered, blind with passion.

Shock, joy, awe flashed over her face. “T-Tony?”

“Here, beauty. No dreams this time. No more fantasy. Just me. Just
this.”

She wrapped her legs around him. Her head slid back and her hair spilled against him in a wild, smoky tangle. “I wanted you, I wanted this.”

The passion rode him now, vast and blind and rocking, so he almost didn’t hear her.

Then perception came—not with his ears, but with his heart.

“I choose—
you.”
She sheathed him in sweetness, her body rigid in its crest. “Oh, yes—
this.
With you. Always.”

And always was where he fell, captive in her sweetness, warrior to her sultry Eve. Hero in her adoring eyes.

It was the
worst
thing he’d ever done. The Englishman knew that already.

But at that moment, with Chessy’s soft cries ringing in his ears, with her legs locked around him and release slamming through him like a giant velvet fist, the Earl of Morland found that he didn’t care.

~ ~ ~

He was dressed when she awoke, standing before the window and staring out at the darkened streets.

“Tony? Are you—”

“I’m fine.” He turned and gave her a small smile. “Perhaps not quite
fine,
but I’m no longer feeling as if I’d just died—or I’m just about to.”

“But why are you dressed?”

He sighed. “A runner came from the Foreign Office. Whitby came up to tell me. I tried not to disturb you.”

Chessy yawned and stretched. “I had absolutely no idea. I must have been beyond hearing.”

“You’ve been rather
busy
.”

“Yes, I quite have been.” Her voice was husky with pleasure.

The sound made the fine hairs on Morland’s neck prickle. It made every muscle in his body tighten. But he tried valiantly to ignore his response. “Did I say thank you? I hope so.”

“You did, my lord. Fifty times already.”

But he did not smile, not even at her teasing. Chessy saw the grimness in his eyes, and it frightened her. “What is this all about?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it? It’s about pride, I suppose. And honor. Long ago I made you a vow, Chessy. I said I’d be your warrior against all foes. But this—this thing between us won’t go away. I’m too jaded, too battered to be any good for you, my love. Right now you should be running from me as hard and fast as you can.”

“Would that help?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure I could give you up even if you ordered me to.”

Chessy sat up slowly. Lithe muscles rippled at calf and shoulder with a sleek beauty that made Morland’s groin tighten.

“I’m glad to hear that.” She rose and ran her fingers over his cheek, stiff with a faint edge of stubble. “My father always said destiny is made in men’s hearts, not in the stars. If so, then I would have
you
be my destiny.”

Morland scowled. “Unfortunately, your father is often a fool.”

Chessy traced his hard, stubborn mouth. “On the contrary, he is a genius. It is
you
who are the fool, Anthony Morland, in spite of all your experience.” Her gaze fell, locked on his mouth. “My foolish friend. My forever friend.” Her voice turned deep and husky. “My dearest love.”

She slid open the first button on his shirt.

He shuddered. “Don’t, Chessy. Don’t make it any easier for me while I’m trying to tell myself all the reasons this is wrong. Your father would tear out my heart if he knew what I’ve been doing to you in this bed tonight.”

Chessy’s lashes dropped, black silk over shining amethyst. Her voice turned wistful. “Are you sorry for what just happened?”

“By
heaven
, no.”

“Then … you do want me? Just a little?”

“A little? I could keep you here for years and never become tired of you.
Want
isn’t nearly the word for what I feel for you.”

Chessy’s gaze fell to the straining cloth at his thighs. Slowly her untutored mind put two and two together. She frowned. But then she decided words would tell her nothing.

Instead she circled Morland’s neck. Two more buttons slid free at his shirt. Smiling, she pushed him down beneath her onto the bed.

“What are you—”

“Be quiet, English barbarian.”

“Chessy, you can’t—you deserve someone far better.”

“Do I?”

His jaw locked as her mouth explored the warm tangle of hair at his neck and trailed lower.

Chessy blinked, staring at the tanned skin. What she wanted now was to taste him. Everywhere.

She started at his jaw. He was salt and citrus, smoke and shadow, with just a tinge of her medicinal ginger.

“Chessy—” His voice was raw, slurred. “Chessy, help me do the honorable thing for once.”

Only what we choose or don’t choose…

She chose him. She chose feeling all of this. And if tomorrow brought tears, so be it. Life was too short for regretting. The swift, unexpected violence of two nights before had taught her that.

She pulled off his shirt and brushed his chest with her tongue, thrilled when she felt him shudder, felt his big hands slip around her waist.

“Do you … was that…what you like?”

He gave a dark sound that was laugh and purest pain. “Was it what, my little thief? Was it paradise? Was it the best damned thing I’ve ever felt? The answer is yes.”

Emboldened, she tangled her fingers in the bronze hair and brought her head lower, down where the dark pelt narrowed and his breeches lay taut, stretched over throbbing muscle.

Her hair lay against his chest, blue-black upon bronze, a cloud of softness upon unalloyed hardness.

At that moment Morland gave up fighting. He slid his fingers deep into that dark cloud, afraid to believe that this was really happening, afraid that this dream too would vanish.

Her fingers danced over him, whisper-soft. She searched awkwardly over the cloth that restrained him.

Then she found the first button of his breeches. Slowly she slid it free.

His hands tightened as another button followed. By now he was huge, so swollen that the cloth clung tight. He smothered a curse as he felt her warm breath play over his waist, leaving him in torment. He yearned to pull away and rip the offending cloth free so that nothing came between them.

But he didn’t. Because this was
her
fantasy now, just as much as it was his.

Only what we choose and don’t choose…

He groaned as she eased down a taut corner of cloth. And then her breath fell hot upon him.

“Am I—does this—”

“If you choose it, take it, my heart. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.
From
you.”

Her lips curved up. He could feel the smile, light and fragile where her mouth brushed his straining skin. Then her fingers were at the cloth, moving at a pace that was nothing short of agony.

Or paradise.

Finally the swollen length of his sex sprang free. He locked his mouth against the fury of it, aching to shove her over and drive inside her.