Deceived (16 page)

She shook her head. “That is not possible.” She blinked several times but he never looked less than utterly serious. “That cannot be true.”

“But it is,” he said softly as he reached out a hand to trace the curve of her cheek. “You are beautiful, Josie, desirable.”

“I have curves that aren’t fashionable,” she said, though it was hard to think when his fingers were stroking her skin like that.

“When it comes to men, curves are always fashionable,” he whispered. “In truth, that is likely the cause behind any teasing that still goes on. When women see men look at you that way, they would be fools not to be jealous.”

“Jealous of me?” Josie snorted, but the words touched her. “That is a laugh.”

“Laugh all you want.” He leaned closer and his breath whispered over her lips. “It’s true.”

His mouth brushed hers, light and gentle, and it took everything in her not to melt against him, surrender to him. Instead, she stepped back.

“If they all want me so much, then why do I have no suitors?” she asked.

“When was the last time you were asked to dance?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. In London. Some god-awful gathering at Almack’s, I suppose.”

“Did you say yes?”

She frowned. “He was the brother of one of my tormentors. I declined.”

“I see. When was the last time you actually said yes to a man who approached you?” he pressed.

She shifted. “I…I don’t rightly remember.”

He smiled as he reached out to tap her lightly on the tip of her nose. “That may be your answer, Jocelyn Westfall. You have made yourself very mysterious, which men find alluring, I assure you. But you have also made yourself unreachable.”

Was that true? She had turned down partners because she had doubted their motives. She had doubted herself. Was Evan right that in doing so, she had cut herself off from true connection?

“I…I built my own wall?” she whispered.

“Perhaps. Though you were the prettiest flower along it, I assure you.”

She felt like she couldn’t breathe. “What you say makes no sense to me.”

He nodded. “I know. Because you let what others say about you as a girl sink into your skin. You began to doubt yourself, to believe them. And eventually it was your own voice that berated you.”

She dipped her head. “That—that might be true, yes.”

“You can stop that voice any time, Josie.”

She stared at him. Here he was, so utterly handsome, and he could not possibly understand. “It isn’t so easy as that.”

He stepped closer once more and her heart all but stopped as he reached out to take her hand. He lifted it to his chest and held it there so she could feel the steady throb of his heart.

“If your voice refuses to be kind, then replace it with mine.” He squeezed her fingers gently. “Jocelyn Westfall is beautiful. And desirable. And kind. And so very arousing. Jocelyn Westfall, you deserve better.”

She blinked and all thoughts of her childhood troubles or her current embarrassments faded. In that moment all she could see or think about was the man before her. The complicated, frustrating, wonderful man who held her hand and confused the hell out of her.

“What are we doing?” she whispered.

His eyes went wide at the question, and for a moment he didn’t speak. She saw him struggling, trying to find the answer she herself didn’t know or understand. Finally he shook his head. “I’m not quite certain, Josie? Are you?”

“No,” she admitted as she allowed him to draw her closer. “But I like it.”

His eyes went wide and his smile broadened. “Even though you hate me?” he teased gently.

She refused to tease back, not when he was so close. Not when everything in her world was tightening in concentric circles to just him. Only him. Always him.

“A lady doesn’t hate,” she murmured.

He laughed, but his focus never wavered from her face. “Strongly despise me?”

She reached up to cup the back of his head and gently drew him to her. Just before she touched her lips to his, she whispered, “Not anymore.”

Josie leaned up into Evan’s lips, drinking him in like he was water and she had roamed the desert for days. Being apart from him seemed like forever. Being with him now felt like the only thing that mattered.

He was stiff for a moment, almost surprised by her kiss, but then his arms came around her and he molded her closer, tilting his head so he could angle their kiss deeper. She opened to him and explored him in return, tasting every inch of him with all the passion she had ever felt.

All the love she was beginning to feel.

But no, she would not think about that. Not right now. Right now all she wanted was to feel Evan’s arms tighten, to feel his passion rise, to give in to pleasure and desire and everything that boiled between them.

She arched against him and he let out a low moan that broke their kiss.

“You are killing me,” he muttered.

“It’s only a little death,” she whispered back.

He leaned away. “And how do you know about
le petit mort
?”

“I read books. I told you. And you’ve taught me plenty about it, haven’t you?”

He made a low growl deep in his throat—it was a possessive, masculine sound, and her body clenched as moisture began to pool between her thighs.

His mouth covered hers again and she drove her tongue against his, tasting him, feeling him, drowning in him. He pushed her backward across the room until her legs touched the settee. She trusted him as he lowered her against it and covered her body with the solid weight of his own.

She cupped the back of his head, holding him steady as he made love to her mouth and set her body on fire with longing. She arched beneath him, rubbing her body on his, and he moaned with pleasure and pain mixed.

“Josie, we can’t,” he murmured even as he dragged his lips down her neck. “Not here.”

“Please don’t deny me,” she whispered, grasping her own skirts and tugging them up between them. “Not when I need you so very, very much.”

He shook his head, but she could see he was lost. She had power over him, at least when it came to this. He had needs, and right at this moment, she wanted to use them.

She wanted more than he had ever given before. She wanted it all.

His hands slipped under her rapidly rising skirts and he found her sex. He stroked one finger across the wet slit and shuddered out a sigh.

“Damn it,” he growled beneath his breath.

She smiled at his frustration. “Sit up,” she whispered. “Perhaps we can pleasure each other together.”

He stared down into her eyes, seeking out something there for so long that she feared he might see into her very soul. Then he did as she asked. He tugged her to a seated position and placed himself next to her. With a flick of his wrist, he unfastened his trousers and popped free, already hard and heavy.

She couldn’t help herself. She reached for him, taking him in hand and stroking him from head to base once, twice. His eyes squeezed shut and he rested his head back on the settee with a moan.

“Josie,” he whispered, her voice a warning, a prayer, a caress.

She continued to smooth her hand over him, studying his face as he lifted into her, watching as desire and pleasure rolled over him. As she worked, he stole his own hand back between her legs and began to gently stroke her.

She sighed with pleasure, but deep within her there was something else. Frustration. Oh, she knew they could bring each other to completion this way, sitting next to each other, their hands free to explore. But she didn’t want that. She wanted more. She wanted everything.

She wanted it now.

She thought of that book she had stolen all those years ago, thought of the pictures it showed. Of women straddling their men, taking them inside for that final act of passion that Evan denied her.

She jolted against his questing fingers and cast a side glance at him. His eyes were still closed, he was focused on the pleasures they each gave. In a moment, she could straddle him, open to him. He had denied her that final act before, but what would he say if she was right there, her wet heat teasing him, demanding what she wanted?

He might be angry later, but she wanted this. She wanted to know pleasure and possession now in case she never had this chance again.

She held her breath as she swiftly moved, straddling him in one fluid motion. His eyes flew open as she positioned her sex against his cock.

“Josie!” he gasped, his pupils dilated with excitement and pleasure mixed with horror.

“Please,” she whispered, arching over him, feeling the tip of his cock nudge her and aching for more. “Please let me.”

“You can’t,” he murmured, but she ignored him and began to slide over him. “My God,” he growled as he grasped her hips. “You are like heaven.”

She met his gaze and held it there. “Please, Evan. Please don’t stop me. Please don’t turn me away.”

His lips parted and she could see his struggle. Animal versus gentleman. Future versus present. Need versus reason. And in the end, he let out a shuddering sigh. The grip on her hips tightened and he began to gently ease her down over him. There was a burst of pain almost immediately as he slipped inside, and he held steady.

“There,” he said, his voice low and gentle. “Now you have been claimed.”

She swallowed as the pain began to fade and she was aware of his width in her, stretching her, making them one body. The thought aroused her further and she looked down at him.

“That is all?”

“No,” he said with a grim smile. “Not even close.”

He lifted up slowly and more of him entered her, more and more until she felt their bodies fully meet. Her eyes went wide as she stared down at him.

“It is very full,” she whispered, flexing her hips a little to test the feeling. A shot of pleasure met her at the act, and she gasped.

“Oh God, that was what you need to do,” he moaned. “Move just like that. Over and over, Josie. Move like that until you come.”

His rough voice, the desperation in his tone, spurred her on, and she did exactly as she had been told. By instinct, she rolled her hips over his, finding the places where the movement gave her pleasure, observing how it affected him. He watched her as she did it, his eyes wide and filled with lust. That look drove her, the feel of him inside of her drove her and she thrust over him in a ceaseless rhythm that lifted her higher and higher.

So high that she could almost taste release. She could feel it coming, and then it was there. With a soft cry, she was overcome by the bursting dam of pleasure, the rippling spasms of her body.

He groaned and in a smooth motion, he caught her by her backside and flipped her over on her back on the settee. He was still inside of her, and as her pleasure rolled over her he began to grind his hips against her, thrusting relentlessly, lifting her orgasm to even more intense plains.

And just when she thought she could take no more, just when her vision began to blur and the world tipped precariously out of control, he let out a groan and she felt the wet heat of him fill her.

He collapsed against her, holding her tight to him, his body still molded within her. She curled against him, spreading her fingers against his chest to feel his heart pound in time to her own.

It was done. She was no longer a virgin. She had experienced passion at its fullest extent and oh, how she had loved every moment of it. Loved every moment with Evan. Now, even when this was over, she would still have this memory to cling to on nights when she was sad to be a spinster.

Evan shifted, and suddenly he pulled away from her. Their bodies parted and she shivered at the loss of his warmth. She watched as he stood, tucking himself back in place, buttoning his trousers, removing all evidence that they had done something so beautiful.

Finally, he looked at her. Glanced at her, really, for he would not hold his stare on her for too long, and her heart sank.

“Josie,” he began.

She pushed to her own feet, smoothing her gown over herself. “Oh, please, Evan. Please don’t say this was a mistake.”

“But it was,” he whispered, turning his face from hers. “What I have done.”

“You’ve done nothing.” She reached for his arm. “Look at me.”

He did so, but slowly, like he didn’t want to face her. “You know what you say isn’t true. As a gentleman, I should not have allowed this.”

“I asked you to have me,” she insisted. “I knew what I wanted and you gave it to me.”

His lips pursed and he pulled his arm from her grip and paced away. She watched him move restlessly about the chamber, watched his unhappy face whenever he turned and allowed her to see it.

“Evan, I do not expect anything from you,” she whispered. “This was not a trick, not a trap. I wanted to feel passion and you gave me that gift. Now I know what it is like to be desired and claimed and I can live with whatever the future brings. Think of this as a gift you’ve given me. I thank you and I absolve you of any guilt you may feel over what just transpired.”

He stopped pacing and looked at her. Really looked at her, and she felt like he was almost seeing her for the first time. She shifted under that hard, focused stare.