Seduction in Mind (10 page)

Neither was capable of restraint after that, and in the grip of such fierce desire they moved in a greedy, fevered flux and flow, rocking the seraglio bed, exploring the extremity and dimension of their need, avaricious—famished—frenzied.

She discovered he was as good as rumor maintained—better, in fact, and beyond his practiced skills and expertise, he had all the natural gifts—breadth, width, length—to bring a woman extraordinary pleasure.

But her fleeting moment of appreciation was interrupted by his next powerful downstroke and any further reflection was swamped by glorious sensation, by the hovering imminency of orgasm. The explosive pleasure broke, shocking, violent, so intense it rocked her senses, burned through her body, inundated her soul with glowing rapture—was beyond anything she'd ever known. And blissful moments later, panting, flushed, her senses still reeling, she marginally lifted her lashes and met the viscount's faint smile.

"Tell me when it's my turn," he whispered.

She was about to speak, but he moved just then and she caught her breath, a delirious splendor riveting her attention. And when he glided a fraction deeper, she cried out, ravishing sensation jolting down every nerve and pulsing tissue.

"No," she breathed, overwrought, overwhelmed.

"Yes," he said almost as softly, and sliding his hands under her bottom, he lifted her into his next downstroke.

She screamed—the sound filling the canopied bed, the room, echoing through the high-ceilinged studio. And she came again in a wild, agonizing convulsion that brought tears to her eyes.

He kissed away her tears afterward, murmuring sweet love words along the dampness of her lashes, down her cheeks, across her parted lips, and her body warmed to his caresses as he knew it would. Whether it was chivalry or politesse or a novel degree of affection for the lady in his arms, he indulged her easily incited senses with both patience and gallantry three times more before he allowed himself his own indulgence and withdrew to come on her stomach.

The afternoon sun was low in the sky, a lemony light pervading the room, bathing their sweat-sheened bodies. Contentment was palpable in the air.

"This must be an enchanted bed," Sam whispered, brushing her cheek with a kiss.

She smiled up at him. "Now it is."

"The world has taken on a cloudless charm." His gaze was warm, close.

"All because—"

"I saw you in Leighton's painting at Grosvenor House."

"I was going to say… I invited you in."

"Definitely because of that," he agreed, lightly running his fingertip over the curve of her lush bottom lip. "And because I had to have you."

"And I you."

He smiled. "After I overcame your reservations."

She shook her head gently. "When I no longer could resist."

"That I understand," he simply said. "Because I'm not leaving anytime soon. Don't go away." Rolling off her, he leaned on his elbows and surveyed the room, looking for a towel.

"Over there." Half raising her hand, she pointed toward the door to her bathroom.

"I hope you can read my mind. I wouldn't want to think this was so routine, you—"

"If it were routine, darling, I'd have the towels close by."

"Excellent answer. You're eligible for a prize."

"I hope you can read
my
mind," she noted playfully, "in terms of prizes."

He was already halfway across the room. "No problem there."

"Good. Bring extra towels."

"I don't suppose it would do any good to mention that men don't like women who tell them what to do."

"If you don't mind being told that women abhor dictatorial men."

"I'd say you need some schooling in the finer points of courtship," he observed playfully. "Aren't women supposed to be pleasant and agreeable?"

"I doubt what just transpired was courtship. Unless the word has taken on a new meaning since last I heard?"

"I meant it in the broadest sense." Looking back, he wet his finger with his tongue and ticked off an imaginary mark. "Another demerit, Miss Ionides, to add to your list. You may not receive your reward if you're not more complaisant."

"Perhaps I can think of some way to please you," she purred.

He disappeared into the bathroom and reappeared quickly, carrying several towels. "See, you're learning already."

Her small moue was enticing. "If you weren't so well endowed, my lord, I wouldn't be inclined to listen to you at all. However…"

"I am—with all due modesty." His gaze was amused.

"Lucky me."

"Lucky us," he said. "But if I offend you with my teasing," he added with a new gravity, "let me know. I don't wish to offend you."

"Don't worry, darling. I have no trouble speaking up."

He liked the sound of
darling
when she uttered it, the endearment gentle to his ear. And their benevolent mood may have continued indefinitely had not a man's face at the window brought him to a standstill. Tossing her a towel, he gruffly muttered, "Jesus God, he's back."

She turned, following the direction of his gaze, and found herself looking into Harry's soulful eyes. Suppressing the exclamation that came to her lips, she quickly swiped the towel over her stomach and, rising from the bed, wrapped the sheet around her. "Excuse me."

"Will you be gone long?" A contentious note rang in his words.

"No, but if it's a problem for you, you're excused."

"Maybe he brought you more flowers."

With Harry, one never knew. "I'll be right back."

"Fucking hurry."

She turned at the fiat in his tone. "I beg your pardon?"

He glowered for a fleeting moment and then said with exquisite restraint, "I'd appreciate if you'd return as soon as possible."