Succumb to Me (14 page)

The words halted the ascent of her arm, which
she hadn’t known she held ready to strike. Dear god, she was going
to repeat her mistake. Hadn’t she learned better by now to control
her mindless urges? He was driving her insane. Never before had she
thought herself prone to violence, yet every encounter with him
left her wanting to throttle him.

The heated longing of his look made her
realize he wasn’t promising her injury. The awareness almost made
her want to test him to find out what he’d do ... almost. His
actions were steadily escalating to bolder conduct. Did she truly
want to find out what revenge he would choose to take? Realizing
she did not, she slowly dropped her arm back to her side, the
insane urge subsiding.

He nodded, satisfied with his victory. “Let
us go before we are over late.”

* * * *

Arriving after the majority of the audience
was seated, Logan showed Winter to his private box just as the
ornate chandeliers were dimmed and the play began.

He helped her remove her cloak and they sat
in the back of the box, their faces hidden from the crowd by
shadows and a partially drawn curtain. On the stage, the Capulets
and Montagues began fighting, immersing those watching in their
drama.

Logan had no interest in the play. He could
think of nothing but Winter, of how innocent and alluring she
looked with each new discovery. Rubbing a thumb over his jaw line
in thought, he studied her as she grew steadily more comfortable in
her surroundings, engrossed in the play, completely relaxed—so
enchanted with the play that he was certain she’d forgotten she was
in his company.

It was exactly what he’d hoped for when he
had arranged to take her to the play, that she would let down her
careful guard in the certainty that he was no threat to her in a
public place … that she would relax and become more receptive to
his overtures and more vulnerable to her own desires.

Despite the fact that Winter was no longer
the innocent young girl he had once known, she had had little
experience with a man’s desires and none with her own. She was ripe
for the plucking, and yet he had allowed himself little enough time
with her to explore her sensuality.

Moreover, he had allowed his heart to rule
his head, holding back for fear that his own desires would push him
to press too hard too fast and he would lose the tenuous foothold
he’d gained on her trust by doing nothing more threatening than
forcing her to become accustomed to his nearness and his touch. If
he was to win what he sought, he would have to break the dam of
reticence she’d built around herself with a flood of feeling. The
challenge was tantalizing … nearly as irresistible as she was.

His shaft grew hard as he followed the even
rise and fall of her firm breasts with each breath she took, her
breasts straining the thin fabric of her dress, taunting him. For
some moments he was tempted to ignore the protestations she was
certain to make if he approached her and bury his face in their
deep valley, to bury himself deep inside her without a care who saw
him take her ... or what repercussions he would suffer.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, regaining
control of his libido with an effort, realizing, not for the first
time, that his ‘torture’ of her was far more tortuous to him than
to her. After days of sucking cake from her fingers, looking at her
naked form, and feeling her bare flesh against him, he had only to
think of the slumberous desire that filled her eyes each time they
‘had tea’ to grow painfully erect.

Thinking of the pleasure she’d evoked with
her mouth only took him to a new level of depravity. He found
himself engrossed with the idea of plumbing every hole of her body,
making her know that she was his in every aspect.

She just did not realize it yet.

He should have progressed to the next level
long before now. He’d never intended to allow her to get off so
lightly. He’d meant to press her, seduce her to the point that she
wanted him as much as he wanted her. And yet, he had not been able
to bring himself to do more, not when he saw she came willingly,
saw the desire blossom in her cheeks as she watched him.

He looked at her. She was leaning forward,
her lips parted in excitement as she watched the drama unfold on
the stage. He knew then what he wanted … tonight. He wanted to see
more of her and taste the forbidden, desired it more strongly than
he had ever wanted anything in his life.

Logan leaned closer, breathing in her
delectable scent as she continued to ignore him, risking his ire.
It made no difference. She could do nothing to dampen his desire
for her. Six long years had built the fantasy, this longing. He was
as unable to resist giving in to it as she was to allow it.

“Lift your skirt. I want to see your legs,”
he said low to her ear, the hollow curve behind begging for the
stroke of his tongue.

She looked at him from the corner of her eye,
unaware of his absolute seriousness. “I will not. Someone will
see.”

“That was not a request.” He twirled a loose
curl of her white gold hair around his fingers.

She glanced at him speculatively. “If I do,
will you grant me a boon?”

He chuckled. “You have learned something in
our time together, I see. I would do anything for your
happiness.”

“Then release me.”

He sat back, studying her in the dim light
for a long moment. “That would not truly make you happy, would
it?”

“It would.”

“Then you lie to yourself as well as to
me.”

She shifted, uncomfortable with his
directness. “Take down that awful painting then, if you will not
grant me leave. I wish that none may see it.”

“Done.” He looked at her, waiting
expectantly.

From her profile, he could see her fine
arched brow draw down in anger. After several long minutes of
internal debate, she complied, lifting the blue skirts until her
petite ankles showed.

“The bargain was for a view of your legs,” he
said dryly. “If you want the painting taken down, then lift your
skirts all the way up. I want to see your thighs.”

She bit her lip, as though in pain, and
slowly drew the fabric up until her legs were bared.

A small sweep of light cut across her lap,
revealing her flesh for him to devour with his eyes. His mouth grew
dry at the sight of her toned thighs and pale, translucent skin.
Delicate silk stockings encased her legs enticingly, held in place
by lace garters that begged removal with his teeth. Blood pounded
in his groin, and he felt his member swell and push painfully
against his tight breeches.

The desire to touch her was overwhelming ...
to see if her virgin skin was as soft as it looked. Giving in to
his craving, he placed a hand on her thigh.

She gasped, trying to push her skirts back
down. “You said nothing of touching me.”

“And I did not say I wouldn’t.” He grabbed
her wrists, stopping her.

“You
promised
,” she whispered accusingly.

Logan wanted to say he’d lied but didn’t. “I
gave you my word that you would not lose your reputation unless you
thwart my desires,” he pointed out. “But I also stipulated that you
were to be entirely open to my commands. If you will not hold to
your bargain, then I feel obligated to point out that neither will
I feel compelled to uphold my terms.”

He stood abruptly, as if he meant to
leave.

Winter caught his hand. “No. I’m sorry. I …
I’m just not used to….”

He looked down at her a moment. Taking his
seat once more, he grasped the hem of her dress and drew it up.

She flinched, making an aborted attempt to
stop him and finally gripped the arms of her chair tightly, her
knuckles white. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, as if she could
hide behind her lids.

Satisfied, he splayed his hand over the taut
muscles, testing the velvet texture of her flesh. He slipped his
fingers teasingly under her garters, enjoying the contrast of lace
and skin. She squirmed under his caress, but he held her still with
his free hand, even when he wanted to devote his whole being to
loving her.

Slowly, he nudged her skirt up to see the
true prize he sought. She yelped and nearly jumped from her
seat.

“Be quiet! Unless you want to be discovered?
How would your mother feel when she found out you came here with
me?”

“You bastard,” she gritted out, clenching
tight fistfuls of her dress but offering no resistance.

“Miss Stevens, I am surprised at your
language.” He chuckled and continued his pursuit, until her skirts
rode up around her hips. She was breathing heavily now, holding
perfectly still as she awaited his next move.

Her descent into his world was inevitable ...
a world of feeling ... of pure lust. He would soon have her craving
his touch instead of shying away. The possibility made his groin
throb with painful pleasure.

He leaned over her, until her sex was
revealed to him. As a perfect lady, she wore no scandalous garments
over her nether region.

A pale triangle of curls captured his
hungry gaze, and he knew looking on her wouldn’t be enough this
time. He had to touch her ... smell her ...
taste
her.

“Spread your legs.”

She shook her head violently, trembling. “I
can’t. Please don’t ask this of me....”

“You must.” He gripped her thighs and eased
them apart. “I want to see you. All of you. Inside you.”

“Please,” she whispered, nearly whimpering,
and he was struck with a pang of guilt. Then he remembered she had
no sincerity, no true feelings of her own. They’d been lost to
her—she had proven it time and again. Unless he’d been wrong....
And that was something he would never admit.

“I made a promise ... and I will keep it. You
will enjoy this,” he said softly to assure her. Slowly,
torturously, he moved his hand between her legs until he cupped her
sex. He made a small grunt of pleasure when he found she was
already soaked. She wanted this. There was no denying it now.

* * * *

Winter wanted to deny the pure lust
overriding her sense, but she couldn’t. And she couldn’t control
it. Almost against her will, her thighs parted further for him as
he cupped her sex and ran a finger teasingly up and down her moist
cleft, slipping in the damning juices slickening her thighs and the
petals of her sex.

Her heart beat a tattoo, blood pulsing
through her veins and in the nub that nestled in her core, begging
for his touch. He’d teased her before with his touch. She wondered
now how far he would take this, when at any moment they could be
discovered.

He plunged one long finger past her swollen
lips, inside her tight passage. Her flesh stretched around him, the
virgin territory unused to penetration.

Winter moaned without thinking and grabbed
his arm in a vice grip. Her hips jerked, moving towards him with a
will of their own.

“Does it feel good, my ice princess?” he
whispered close to her ear, taunting her.

She nodded wordlessly, unable to speak,
unable to think of anything but the tightness of his finger moving
inside her. He curled the digit, rubbing against a hidden spot that
evoked a slew of sensations to swarm her thoughts.

Her hips rose off her chair. The muscles of
her thighs and sex clenched.

He bent and kissed her neck, pushing his
finger slowly in and out, stretching her to the limits. Dragging
his teeth up her neck, he sucked her lobe into his mouth, rubbing
his tongue over the sensitive flesh as he slowly worked another
finger inside her.

“It’s too much,” she whimpered, pressing
against his hand with unconscious volition.

“Are you so certain?” He breathed hotly
against her ear and flicked his thumb over her clitoris, moving in
a tight circle.

Gasping for air, Winter arched her back,
pressing into his palm as a wave of torturous pleasure enveloped
her. Logan nipped the hollow behind her ear and sucked against the
tender skin until he’d left his dark mark of possession.

She scarcely noticed the sucking of his
mouth, could only feel his hand moving in her sex, rubbing her as
he had done before. Tension built within her, tightening her
core.

He kissed her, sliding his tongue past her
lips as he pumped his fingers into her. She moaned against his
mouth and sucked him greedily, kissing him with mindless
abandon.

He broke away, trailing hot kisses over her
jaw before dropping to his knees. Pushing her chair back, he
settled himself between her thighs. She clutched his shoulders,
pulling him toward her, needing more. Not fully understanding what
was happening, instinct guided her movements.

Would he pleasure her with his mouth as she
had him? Was it something that women enjoyed? She couldn’t know,
but she ached to understand.

He continued thrusting his fingers into her
even as he kissed her inner thigh and lightly sucked at her flesh,
breathing the light, musky scent of her desire.