Never Kiss a Rake (18 page)

She could feel the laugh shake his body as it pressed against her. He was huge, overwhelming, warm skin everywhere. He was so solid, not soft like her at all, not soft like anyone she’d ever been close to. His chest was hard against her, his stomach flat, his… Shock hit her, as she realized what else she was feeling. She shouldn’t even know what it was, but she did. That didn’t feel like anything she’d seen on the Elgin Marbles.

“So my new housekeeper has a fondness for drugs?” he murmured in her ear, his breath as warm as his skin. “You should have told me sooner. I could find all sorts of things for you to try.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, holding herself very still. Not that she had much choice. He was so much bigger than she was, so much stronger, with all that hot, sleek flesh. And she certainly didn’t want to do anything that would put her in closer contact with
that
part of him. “And I was in pain.”

His soft laugh should have annoyed her. Instead it only increased that treacherous stirring deep and low inside her. “I’m sure you were, my precious. You don’t mind me calling you my precious, do you? I tend to use endearments to anyone who’s lying beneath me in my bed.”

“I’d just as soon not be in your bed, my lord.” Her voice came out slightly strangled but there was nothing she could do about it.

He laughed again. “No, I imagine so. Don’t worry, my pet. There are plenty of other places we could do it.”

“Do what?” she said, mystified, before she realized what he meant. She started to struggle then, not caring what part she hit. “Let me up.”

He caught both her wrists in one hand and hauled them above her head, his hips pinned hers, and his legs trapped her own. “I didn’t invite you here,” he pointed out. “You simply waltzed in, in the middle of the night, and I’m never a man to turn down such a generous offer.”

“I told you, I was looking for laudanum!” She was trapped beneath him, even more thoroughly than she had been before, and she knew she should be terrified. She couldn’t decipher what she was feeling. Fear was part of it, certainly. But so was a strange sense of longing she didn’t quite recognize. Her breasts were pressed against him, and they ached. Everything was aching in an entirely different way than it had been before. Her entire body felt hot, restless, edgy.

“Beneath my mattress?” His voice was like a purr. “I promise you, my very dear Miss Greaves, I don’t hide my vices. I keep them in plain sight for any curious housekeeper to come across.”

“Your laudanum was in the drawer,” she said before she could consider the wisdom of it.

“I don’t like laudanum. It’s a watered-down drug for ladies. Is that what’s digging into my hip?” Before she realized it he’d reached between their bodies, his hands brushing against her stomach as he searched for the pilfered bottle, and heat and shock exploded through her. He found her pocket and pulled out the bottle, holding it up to the tiny shaft of moonlight that speared in through the curtains. And then he really did laugh, so hard that he released her, falling against her, convulsed in such mirth that she was able to shove him off her, almost able to escape before he caught one wrist and hauled her back.

“That’s not laudanum, my precious. That’s something else entirely, and you would have been very sorry if you’d tried to drink it.”

She wasn’t going to ask him. Damn it, she wasn’t going to say a word. “Then what is it?”

“It’s an interesting oil from the Far East that helps intensify certain… pleasures. I’d be more than happy to demonstrate, but with such a puritanical virgin I think a simple fucking would be more than enough for the first time.”

She froze at his offhand words. She tried to speak, but when the words came they were shamefully weak. “Are you going to rape me?”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t have to. I could have you eating out of my hand if I set my mind to it.”

She ground her teeth. “I am not a virgin, I am not puritanical, we are not going to have any kind of… carnal debauchery at all. Now let me up.”

He didn’t laugh at her this time. He fell back against the mattress with a weary sigh, still holding on to her wrist. “Now that’s the damnable problem, my angel. I’m all set to play the villain, have my disgusting, delicious way with you to both your pleasure and mine, and you say something completely adorable like ‘carnal debauchery.’ How is a man to react to something like that?”

“He’s supposed to release me.”

“I ought to,” he said. “If I had any scrap of decency left in me.” He turned his face, and she could see him in the shaft of moonlight, his skin white gold. It was then she realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Realized that
he wasn’t wearing anything at all. “Fortunately,” he added, “any decency is long gone.” And he pulled her over on top of him.

“If you keep this up I’m going to get dizzy.” This time she managed a satisfactorily dry, cautious tone.

He put his lips to her ear, and she could feel his hot breath against her skin. “You already are dizzy, my dear Miss Greaves. Your heart is pounding, your pulses are racing, and your nipples are hard. I’m willing to bet my sweet little virgin is wet.”

She frowned, ignoring the nipple part. “Wet?”

“Between your legs. It’s a sign of arousal, your body readying itself for mine.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“That’s delicious,” he corrected her. “Shall I see?” And his hand slid down her thigh to the hem of her nightdress. She slapped at him, but he simply caught that hand with her other. “This isn’t going to hurt, precious. I just want a taste. A forfeit, since you were the one who decided to come to my bed.”

“Your bedroom,” she corrected, “and I told you, I was looking for—”

“Yes, you told me, and I don’t believe you.”

“Let me up,” she said fiercely.

“Not yet. I require two things before I release you.”

“Name them.” She would make a bargain with the devil to get away from him. Before she didn’t want to leave at all.

The bed was so warm, and soft beneath her. It smelled wonderful, of spice and wood and Kilmartyn, some scent all his own, and it would be so easy to lie back and let him do what he wanted. There was even a certain sense to it—if she had relations with him he might lower his guard. It wasn’t as if she ever planned to marry—the loss of her virtue would be no loss at all, and it would slake her endless curiosity.

She was mad! She needed to get away from him—these thoughts were insane.

Before she realized what he was doing he’d slid one arm around her waist, pulling her against him, and his other hand moved up to her throat, his long fingers cupping her chin, stroking. He moved closer, blotting out
the fitful light, and she thought, now I am going to be kissed, really kissed, and she closed her eyes, preparing herself.

Instead, his mouth moved to her ear, and his teeth bit down on her earlobe. Instead of pain, warmth flooded her body, and her eyes flew open again. “Just so you know there are other, surprising places that can be almost as much fun as lips,” he whispered, before his mouth closed over hers.

She’d been expecting the kind of kiss she’d given him that first night when he had passed out, the pressing of lips against lips, with the possible addition of some excited grinding. This was entirely different.

His mouth merely brushed hers, so softly it was feather light, and she knew a moment of disappointment. Until he did it again with a mere touch, so tantalizing that her body began to rise to meet his. She kept herself still, as his lips traveled over her jaw, her cheek, across her closed eyes, and then back to her mouth again, so softly, like a butterfly exploring a flower. And she was forgetting to breathe, entranced.

She could feel his breath against her, and then the totally surprising touch of his tongue against her lips. Why? But his hand was still cupping her chin, holding her gently, and his long finger caressed her jaw. She automatically opened at his urging, just as his mouth covered hers again, his tongue swept inside her, wet and hot and seeking, and she knew she should be disgusted, knew it as her tongue slid against his, tasting him. This was what she’d been waiting for, though she hadn’t known it. This was what she had needed.

It wasn’t a kiss of domination, strange as it was, it was a kiss of discovery, of tasting and touching and teasing, of utter joy and promises of oh, so much more, and she sank into it, danced into it, reveling in its unexpected delight. She didn’t want it to end. She couldn’t breathe, and she didn’t care. He was everywhere, all around her in the warm bed. He’d slid his hands down to her shoulders, holding her, and then they moved down her arms, and she didn’t care. She wanted him to touch her, touch her everywhere. In the darkness her scars were invisible, in the darkness this beautiful man wanted her, and she would endure anything for the bizarre glory of this deep, draining kiss. She made a low moan of
protest as he lifted his head, and she realized that at some point she’d reached up to clutch his shoulders. Naked shoulders, strong and well muscled, naked as the rest of him. He was looking at her now, breathing heavily, a surprised expression on his face. “Well,” he said in rough voice. “Well, now.”

Before she could say anything he kissed her again, no teasing this time, just a hungry demand, and she felt her body tremble with longing that she didn’t understand, could only feel. She wanted this man. She wanted to stay here, lie beneath him, have him push between her legs and take her as a man took a woman. It was wrong, it was selfish, and it didn’t matter. Everything about her ached with need, and she slid her hands up his arms, clutching his shoulders, arching into him. She wanted to tell him not to stop, it didn’t matter if she couldn’t breathe, if he was crushing her, and she felt his hands sliding down her legs.

Her nightdress had ridden up, bunching around her thighs, and he moved his hand and pressed it, low and flat across her stomach. She liked that too, the warmth from his big hand filling her, soothing her, and for the barest moment she relaxed, sliding into the wonderful feeling. Safe. Wanted, when it seemed no one had ever wanted her. Protected.

And then he moved his hand down between her legs.

She tried to let out a shriek of protest but his mouth still covered hers. She tried to buck at him, but he simply lifted his head and smiled at her lazily.

“You might actually like it, my precious.”

She tried to kick him, but he stilled her thrashing legs with one of his. She could feel the strong, warm, hair-dusted leg holding her still, the sensation momentarily distracting, and he used that distraction, stroking her, until she felt a powerful sizzle of reaction blaze through her.

It took more strength of will than she would have thought she had to shove him away. “No!”

“No?” he repeated gently. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

She was breathless, aroused, and she knew she should be ashamed. She wasn’t. “I’m not supposed to know what I’m missing,” she said tartly.

“And you a widow?” He laughed softly, but she was past worry about a slip of the tongue.

“We had a very restrained marriage,” she snapped.

“I imagine you did,” he said. Before she could stop him he’d cupped her face, sliding his long fingers into her hair, and kissed her again.

How could there be so many different kinds of kisses? This time it was a claiming, pure and simple, except there was nothing pure about it. She hadn’t even realized she’d put her arms back around him, moving underneath him, kissing him back without any hesitancy, tongue and teeth and lips, and she wanted him to slide his hand down again, this time she wouldn’t stop him, she wanted him to touch her there again.

But then he stopped, suddenly, and a moment later he lifted his head and rolled off her, sitting up in the bed. “Now that,” he said, “is going to cause a very great deal of trouble.” His voice was dazed, speculative, and reality came crashing in.

He’d been playing some sort of game, of course. Even in the darkness she was imperfect. She started to scramble out of the bed, but he caught her arm and hauled her back, staring down at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

She swallowed. She wanted him to kiss her again, to strip off her clothes and kiss her everywhere. She wanted him to let her go. “Was there anything else, my lord?” she inquired, the perfect servant.

For a moment he said nothing, just watched her out of oddly troubled eyes. Then he spoke. “One more thing. Ask me nicely.”

She stared at him in shock. More games? Of course—that was all he ever did. Still, could it be that simple?

“All right,” she said. “Let me go. Please.” She ground out the last word, hating it.

He released her. “If you insist.” And he slid his arm away, turned over and proceeded to fall asleep.

Or at least she assumed as much—she wasn’t waiting to find out. She scrambled off the bed, almost falling on the floor, and she was across the room in a matter of moments. She opened the door silently, slipping through. And then, at the very last moment, she slammed it as hard as she could.

The Earl of Kilmartyn rolled onto his back, amusement still fighting with arousal over his endearingly clumsy spy. Really, if he had to have someone infiltrate his house to try to find out his secrets he couldn’t have chosen a better one. There was no question who would win their little battle of wills. She was going to find nothing about his darkest secret. But she was going to give herself to him, body and soul.