To Seduce a Rogue (29 page)

“Why
are
you saying these things? Why are you doing this?”

Her breath unwittingly teased his hair. “God, you smell wonderful. Like flowers and sunshine, and that damn dirt you love so much. It invades my dreams like you would not even believe.”

She bumped against his shoulder as she moved past him. He lifted his head and watched her walk to the window behind his desk. If he could touch her like he wanted to. Just once. Would it be possible to satisfy his hunger with one passionate, fleeting encounter?

She turned slowly, her arms wrapped around her stomach. Her breasts, propelled by her defensive gesture, peeked from the lace-edged neck of her nightdress. She shivered. Not from a chill, he guessed.

He crooked a finger at her.

She didn’t move, only stared at him. He was close to vaulting to his feet, anything to get to her when she dropped her arms and came forward. Instead of fleeing like she should have, she slipped her spectacles off, laying them on his desk as she passed it.

He pulled her to her knees when she reached him, not giving either of them time to think. He looked into her face, losing every bit of reasoning he possessed as the blatant desire reflected on her face rolled like a wave of heat over him. Exhaustion, hunger and loneliness battled within him. He could not deny them any longer. He thrust his hands into her hair and brought her to him. She didn’t fight, rather, opened her mouth when she felt his touch. Then she flicked her tongue against his lips, against his tongue. She was learning so quickly—exactly what he liked.

He groaned deep in his throat and clutched her tighter. He had to get closer. Slanting his mouth, he deepened the kiss. He ran his tongue along her lips, explored the inside of her mouth. She tasted of cinnamon and magic.

She tangled her tongue with his and his heart jumped. He tightened his arms as she swayed into him. Or, perhaps he swayed into her. It didn’t matter. He was not going to lose contact with her. At that moment, he didn’t give a damn if everyone in the house came tumbling in upon them.

He wanted her more than he had ever wanted another woman in his life.

Want
did not even begin to explain the sensations rocking him.

Taking control, he circled her waist, his other arm wrapping around her shoulders. In one deft movement, he turned her to her back.

Suddenly, she was lying under him, warm skin and cool silk, her body blending so well with his. She arched her back and squirmed, all the while murmuring meaningless words.

He laughed softly, kissing his way down her neck, nipping the tender skin with his teeth. “Slowly, love, slowly,” he whispered as his hand settled upon her breast. His laugh had come out, in part, due to fear. In a dark corner of his mind, he was afraid she was going to abandon him. Although the groans she emitted and the adventurous way she pressed herself against him were the actions of someone whose need was as great as his own.

“Your legs. Open you legs.” With his finger, he drew a circle around her nipple. She moaned, hardening as quickly as he.

She did as he asked, and he settled himself between her legs, his throbbing erection pressed to her, heat joining them. Two thin layers of silk and one slightly thicker layer of linen separated bare skin. Too much separated them.

Purely on instinct, she wrapped her legs around the back of his knees, locking him to her. She arched, her hands sliding to his waist where she wrenched his shirt from his trousers. He sucked in a breath as her hands crept inside his moist cotton shirt. He should have known better than to think he would frighten her. She was the most daring person he knew. As if to prove that declaration to a further degree, she sucked a piece of cloth-covered skin, a sensitive spot just below his collarbone, biting and groaning as her hands clutched his back.

His mind spinning, his control slipping, he lowered the neck of her dressing gown past her shoulder and gazed at her. Her breasts were beautiful, the nipples erect, perfection. He dropped his lips to one, sucking it through the nightdress. He moved his hand to the other, stroking the puckered tip.

He wanted to share everything a man and woman could with her. Taste her. Lick. Suck. Bite. Kiss. Stroke. Caress. Only, he didn’t know how much longer he could last. Clothing still covered them, and he felt like a schoolboy about to burst.

She tugged at his waistband. “Take off...your trousers.”

He blinked, placing his palms flat on the floor on either side of her head. Her eyes were wide, the pupils swimming in a sea of deep, deep, blue.

“Trousers?”

“Your trousers,” she said, her breath rasping in his ears. “I think I can get...your shirt off. You’ll, you’ll have to do the trousers.”

“The door’s not locked.” He said this as calmly as he could despite his own excitement. Said it logically, too, like he had not been thinking about stripping
her
clothes off only moments before. “We’re on,” he looked up before glancing back at her, “the
floor
.”

“You mean you haven’t ever done this on the floor before?”

“Well, no, I didn’t mean—”

“Or that we can’t do this on the floor?”

“No, I didn’t mean that, eith—”

“You mean we aren’t going to...oh, Chase.” She sounded disappointed, heaven love her.

He mind started a slow tilt. “No. I most certainly did not mean
that
.”

She stared, her face flushed, her gaze expectant.

He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t know what I meant. I just never expected you to come right out and ask me to...take off my trousers.”

She frowned. “Does this have to do with the etiquette problem? I didn’t know I had to act the lady with a man sprawled on top of me.”

He kissed her, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth in a gentle caress. “Charlotte Whitney, I can honestly say that you never have to act the lady with me sprawled on top of you.”

His usual gracefulness thankfully restored, he rose to his feet. He extended his hand, which she refused with a quick shake of her head.

“No.”

“Get up.”

“No. I want to finish.” She met his direct gaze with one of her own.

Soft laughter bubbled from his throat. Kneeling, he slipped his arms beneath her, lifting her high against his chest in one swift motion. “We’re going to finish.”

She smiled, shyly for her, as a blush crept up her face. “Nothing is going to leave, is it?” She directed a pointed look down.

He kissed her soundly on the lips. “No, nothing is going to leave.”

He walked through the entrance hall and took the stairs two at a time, holding her tight against his chest. He stopped at his door and slid her from his arms and slowly down his body. She caught his hands and lifted up on her toes to press her lips to his.

He yielded, shoving her against the door. Bringing his tongue into her mouth, he lifted her hands high above her head and pressed them against the wood. In response, she rubbed her pelvis against his. If he did not know better, he would have thought her a very experienced woman.

“Wonderful,” he said.

Crumpling silk in his fingers, he laid his palm on her bare hip. She let her arm fall from high atop the door and grasped the silk from his hand. In an action he would remember his entire life, she jerked the dressing gown and nightdress over her head, leaving herself completely naked in the hallway in front of his bedroom door.

“Jesus.” He placed himself in front of her and looked in the direction of Mrs. Peters’ room. “Jesus,” he repeated.

He glanced back to find her face turned up to his, a sly smile turning her lips. Her desire did not scare her. Nor did his apparently. She was
enjoying
this.

Heart thumping, he let his gaze roam the length of her, like a child in a candy store who had not expected to be in the candy store yet. Marilyn’s voluptuousness flashed through his mind. He found it hard to believe he had ever found Marilyn attractive.

The woman standing before him was perfection: breasts, petite, upturned, well formed; stomach, flat and full of shadowed hollows; hips, straight, boyish, with a gentle curve at the widest point; thighs, sleek, tight, athletic; calves, small and curved. To have those legs encircling his while he thrust...

He reached behind her and opened the door with a savage twist of the knob. He grasped her shoulders and pushed her inside the room, slamming the door behind them with a swift kick. She stumbled, but he held her steady as he captured her lips beneath his.

His hands were everywhere at once. She met the challenge using her fingers, her lips, her teeth. He could barely hear her sighs over the blood pounding in his head.

“Your clothes,” she murmured.

He released her and dragged his shirt over his head. Hopping on one foot, he pulling his trousers and underclothing off, mindlessly throwing them to the floor.

She drew a fierce breath as she looked at him. He hoped her first look at any man. She followed the trail of hair down his body, her eyes widening as they reached his arousal, erect and jutting. She didn’t pull her gaze away, her eyes hot and smoldering.

As he watched her watch him, he actually felt himself
blush
. Her look was not that of a modest virgin, nor one of a courtesan, which Marilyn sometimes employed. Charlie’s look was gentle, lustful, honest...awe-struck.

“Come here,” he said, his voice hoarse.

She came, her hand extended, her palm sliding up his chest. She stopped at his nipple, her fingers teasing it as he had done to hers. “Charlie,” he groaned and pulled her into his arms, lowering his lips to hers, putting all the emotion he felt for her in the kiss.

He walked backward with her toward the bed, but she stopped him with a touch to his cheek.

“Let’s stay in the light. I want to see you. I don’t want to cover up with sheets and darkness.”

He closed his eyes. He actually got harder, if that was possible. He was so desperate that her words were enough to make him lose control. Her goddamn
words
. But, who loved words more than he and Charlie?

She stepped into his arms. “I don’t want anything to stand between us tonight.”

“No.” He placed a kiss on her hair, then lifted a thick lock to his nose, inhaling the clean, earthy scent of her, running the silky strand across his lips. He bent and nibbled her neck, dropping to the hollow between her breasts. He captured her nipple with his finger, then his teeth. She gasped and arched against him as he drew it between his lips, where he sucked one, then the other.

Her hands gripped his shoulders. “Please.”

With a final taste of her, he sank to his knees, pulling her to the floor with him. He could not wait much longer. He had waited much too long already.

She spread her legs, allowing him full access. He intensified the kiss, beginning a slow grind against her. Up and down. Up and down. She groaned, writhing, asking him in gasping mews for
more
. His mouth left hers, his lips finding and locking once again on her raised nipple.

She bowed her back, running her hands through his hair. “Chase.”

Her hips began to imitate his movements until he was burrowed quite snugly between her soft folds. She was wet. He knew they were close, so close to
finally
discovering what it was going to be like between them.

He lifted so he could see her face. Her eyes were closed, her skin flushed, her lips swollen and so beautiful. He trailed his hand between their bodies as he gazed at her. His thumb found the part of her that he knew, if he touched, would send her over the edge. He wanted to make sure she felt pleasure. He knew this would be painful, and he also knew he would not be able to last very long once he was inside her.

She snapped her eyes open as he slid his finger inside her, moving his thumb deliberately back and forth across the hidden nub. She looked bewildered and impatient all at once. Her mouth fell open as she tilted her head against the thick rug. She shut her eyes, her tongue running frantically along her lower lip.

“Let it come,” he whispered against her ear.

She moaned in reply.

And, then, he felt her pulse about his finger. Her breathing picked up until she was making continuous, almost cat-like purrs, deep in her throat.

“Let it come, sweetheart, let it come.”

Her hips lifted to meet his hand. “Ohhh...Chase...please.”

She wrapped her hands round his arms, digging her nails into his skin. He welcomed the pain that would, for the moment, separate him from the enticing scene of Charlie Whitney, wild and naked, beckoning. He could not tear his gaze from her, not when she was quivering and shaking, her body betraying her, leaving her for him.

As her climax began to consume her, she pushed her head into the side of his neck and whispered against his skin, “I...don’t know...what...
it
...is.”

“You will,” he said as he fit her nipple between his lips and slid his finger deeper.

Her body tightened, and she allowed the wildness to take her.