A Measured Risk (19 page)

Self-preservation urged her to close her eyes and pretend that everything was normal. Emotionally safe. That she was alone. However, she couldn’t tear her eyes from his sleeping face.

For two weeks, she had lain in her bed, longing for him. Now he lay next to her and she felt as distant from him as she had then. Maybe more so
.

His face looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen it. His cheeks were covered with stubble, the chocolate colour so much darker than his ash blond hair. She reached out and touched his cheek, brushing her fingers lightly over the roughness.

His hand shot up and captured hers. She gasped and tried to pull it back.

“It’s really hard for you to admit, isn’t it?” His deep voice resonated directly in her lower stomach. The very pit of her womb. God, she was aching for him.

“What?” She feigned a light tone.

Under the covers, he touched her thigh and stroked sensually. “That you missed me every bit as much as I missed you. That you burned for me each night as I did for you.”

Mortification burnt through her. “I-I thought you were asleep.”

He moved closer to her and cupped her buttocks, pulling her close. “How could I possibly sleep with your lovely body so near mine?”

His erection pulsed against her hip, hard and hot, and her traitorous cunt contracted and grew wet. She couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to have him inside her. Would it be different than with William?

Of course it would. Everything had been different so far. Different and dark and delicious.

He caressed her hair. “I know it’s frightens you, Anne. You have lived in such isolation from other people
,
even while living amongst them. However, you must be brave. I can’t help you if you won’t stay open and trusting with me.”

“This is easy for you.”

He chuckled softly. “Is it?”

“Yes, you’ve had heaps of love
affaires
.”

“Have I?” His voice was rich with humour.

“Do not insult my intelligence, you’ve had scores of women.”

“Bedding many women doesn’t equate to having had heaps of love
affaires
.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No, I don’t let just anyone into my life, Nan.”

His answer put curious warmth into her chest. How pathetic. She bristled all over at herself.

He lifted her hair and placed his lips to her nape. “I didn’t visit my mistress.”

Another burst of warmth blossomed in her chest. She hadn’t believed he’d be faithful a moment past Russell Square.

“You didn’t?” she asked, barely breathing now. The idea that he wanted her badly enough to have endured two weeks of celibacy was the most arousing thing she’d ever known. Hope beat at her without mercy.

Don’t be a bird-wit over this.

“I wasn’t even tempted.”

She laughed but the sound came out weak and uneven. “Now you’re shamming it.”

“That settles it,” he said, his voice suddenly gone firm. He jack-knifed up and leapt from the bed.

Her heart leapt into her throat and she gaped at him. Had he suddenly taken leave of his senses? “Jon?”

“I shall have to prove it to you.” He bent down and put his arms about her and lifted her, sweeping her into his arms.

Chapter Eleven

Jon carried Anne into the other chamber, moving with such speed that everything flew by her in a dizzying array of light and shadow.

She screamed. Not because she was afraid—even though she
was
a little afraid. But mostly because the excitement and emotion overwhelmed her; demanded a release. He laid a slap on her buttocks, none too gently. “Hush, now wench.”

She squealed loudly.

He chuckled and smacked her even harder. The cracking sound echoed in the chamber. When he spanked her again, the sensation of his hand on her arse sent thrills through her pelvis. Sharp pain blossomed into pleasure and she laughed—no, she giggled just like a girl. She never giggled. Never. Now she was doing so all the time. However, there was something about being here with him that made it seem safe to be girlish.

He was so tall, so strong, so utterly masculine in his manner—how could any woman feel anything but feminine and yes, delicate even, in his arms? It was dim here
,
for the fire had died to embers and the cheerful checked curtains were partially closed. He set her on her feet and immediately found the buttons on her nightgown. Soon it fell, a dark silk puddle at her feet. She stood there staring up at him, trying not to shuffle her feet in her uncertainty. Would she ever become accustomed to being naked in front of him?

He pressed on her shoulders
,
gently but firmly. “Kneel for me, you ill-mannered little hoyden.”

Electrical thrills shot through her and her knees went weak, making it easier to obey than to argue or run or do anything else. She knelt, feeling oddly restive yet languid as she did so. As she clasped her hands behind her back, she was aware of how it made her breasts jut out. She’d never been all together comfortable with them. In Mayfair during her seasons, at Mama’s urging, she’d kept them bound, for they were too large—not fashionable in an age when perky little teacups were so highly prized.

But even in the dim light, she could see his eyes riveting on them. Her nipples came instantly erect and he cupped their softness, grazing the stiff peaks. He moved closer to her, his cock brushing her cheek, all velvet over steel. She tilted her head, pressing against its hardness.

He gently squeezed her breasts together, sliding his cock between them. It was shocking, wicked. He thrust his hips back and forth several times. Then he paused, breathing heavily. “You have the most beautiful breasts I have ever seen. I’ve wanted to push my cock between them
,
just like this
,
from the first time I saw you in a low
-
cut bodice.”

His words heated her blood. She arched her back, unable to get enough of his large, slightly roughened hands as he handled her to suit his fancy. He took her hand and wrapped it about his erection. “I am going to come all over you, like this. Do you want that?”

A most ardent desire overcame her and she moaned her assent loudly, not capable of modulating her need. She could feel his cock surge, a pumping sensation. The first jet of seed hit her under her chin, hot and fierce, full of vitality. She cried out with the shock. He pulled himself from between her globes and took hold of himself, stroking his cock as further jets of thick, creamy seed erupted from him and poured warm rain over her bosom. His groans were like harsh music in her ears.

When his climax ebbed, he took several deep breaths. He was staring at her as she knelt there, drenched in his seed.

His gaze was strangely soft and under it, she felt beautiful and filled with a strange sort of power she had never felt before.

“My Lady Cranfield,” he said breathily.

He backed away, returned and wiped her off with a linen towel. The rhythmic strokes of the cloth over her skin lulled her. Filled her with warmth. She wanted to crawl into his embrace and curl into him.

Then he touched her head, dropped something over her eyes.

All her shimmering elation vanished. “Oh, don’t…”

He touched his finger to the tip of her nose and made a sibilant sound. Then he continued securing the cloth at the back. He let her go.

She touched the cloth, her fingers gliding over the pure silk.

“Don’t touch that,” he growled low.

She let it go as if it were afire.

“Good girl,” he said and her stomach turned over in that pathetic
,
flippy-floppy way it seemed to do every time he praised her like that. “Open for me.”

She complied, leaving herself exposed and vulnerable, a fact that both unsettled her and caused a fresh surge from her channel.

He inserted his leg between hers, his hairs tickling her as he parted her thighs even further. “Don’t close them even an inch.”

She could hear him moving about, building up the fire in the large stone hearth. From the warmth, the popping and cracking sounds, there would be firelight now. He would be able to see her
,
yet she was still in darkness. From the quiet, she suspected he was observing her. Gooseflesh rose over her at the thought.

“Why must I be blindfolded?”

“Because I will it.” His voice, firm and commanding, set her channel clenching. After a few more moments, he took her hands and placed them in front of her. “Clasp them.”

He looped something several times around her wrists. Then he was tugging. She tried to pull her hands apart.

“They’re bound, Nan.”

He touched her shoulders. “Move backwards.”

“Why?”

“Because I will it.” He moved, pushing her shoulders, forcing her to walk backwards, on her knees. Blindfolded. Bound at the wrists. Why was he insisting on this?

They moved in a complete circle. Once, twice, three times. She lost her sense of direction
.
Then he was behind her, pulling her back slowly. The blindfold made everything so dark. The sensation was like free
-
falling
.
Her heart pounded in alarm. It was silly but she couldn’t help feeling a little afraid. Instinctively, her hands jerked, trying to free themselves and reach for the floor.

“Easy now, I’ve got you,” he said softly.

“I don’t like this,” she said.

“I know.”

Her back touched something soft and slightly scratchy
.
She arched up and her whole body went stiff.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated.

He let go of her shoulders and held her head in his palms, still lowering her. Then he slipped his hand away. Her head landed and sank into something soft and seemingly groundless.

Her heart beat jarringly for several moments as she seemed to float and spin on the air. Then she realised she was on the floor, her head on an extremely fluffy feather pillow. She laughed in both relief and release.

He brushed her ear with his lips. “Do you see? It is not so unpleasant to trust in me completely, is it?”

He untied her wrists and she immediately reached out to her sides, feeling the soft flannel blanket. His hands touched her stomach, gliding with warm
,
silky sensation. Sweet coconut oil permeated the air. Slowly, rhythmically, he massaged every part of her. She went limp and her eyes grew heavy.

At the touch of two of his long, oiled fingers sliding deep into the softness between her legs, she bolted awake. She was already wet, already swollen and aching with desire. A moan forced its way from her throat, long and low.

His fingers moved slowly and steadily, back and forth in her channel. She’d never known arousal like this before. Needed to come immediately.

“Please, please,” she begged.

He withdrew his fingers and his large hand cupped her whole quim. “This belongs to me now. Do you realise that?”

“Wh-what?” she asked, barely able to comprehend his words, much less decipher what he wished to hear in return.

“I want to hear you say it, Nan. Say my cunt belongs to Jonathon Lloyd.”

Beneath her excitement, her hackles rose. After last night, all the stakes had been raised. Such comments were no longer a game. “I can’t possibly say something like that.”

“You will,” he said with perfect assurance.

His hands touched the insides of her thighs and
,
automatically, her legs parted wider and her hips writhed uncontrollably. His finger traced the outer edge of her cunt. “Damn, you get so wet. I knew you’d be a little hussy. I knew it on the first day we met. From the first time you gave me one of your deep and penetrating glances. You wanted me then, didn’t you? You wanted me to touch you like this.” His tongue snaked, warm and moist, along her inner folds. “And like this.” He flicked her straining nub. “Didn’t you?”