The Heart Breaker (28 page)

“Was it so very bad?” Heather asked sympathetically.

“I’d rather ride herd in a cattle stampede than attend another one of those,” Sloan admitted.

Her lips curved in amusement. “I’m afraid if you’re elected, you will have to attend more than a few of those functions.”

“Maybe I won’t run after all.”

“You don’t really mean that.”

“No.”

Her faint, sweet scent teased him as they strolled along the street, lit now and then by gas lamps. From somewhere—a highbrowed dance hall, perhaps—the tinkling sound of a piano escaped to faintly serenade them.

“There was only one thing that made the evening bearable,” Sloan added in a low voice.

“Oh?”

A groove deepened in his hard cheek as he half-smiled at her. “You. Watching you in that fancy gown. Wondering what you were wearing underneath. All through dinner, the only thing on my mind was stripping it off you and seeing what I could find underneath.”

“Indeed?”

“Are you wearing drawers, duchess?”

“Perhaps you should discover for yourself.”

She was flirting with him, he realized, his pulse quickening. The thought of following her advice interfered with his breathing and made his loins grow heavy. The duchess was standing there calm and cool as a nun, while all he could think about was bringing her to passion. He wanted to completely shatter her control, wanted her digging her nails into his back while she screamed with pleasure....

Abruptly Sloan pulled her into the shadow of a crab apple tree. His arms came around her to hold her, lightly, possessively.

“Sloan, I didn’t mean here…” Heather protested a bit breathlessly.

His mouth hovered over the sweet temptation of her lips. “Then where?” Preventing her answer, he brought his mouth down on hers. His tongue danced, dueling with hers, making her feel his urgent desire.

Heather repressed a moan, feeling her breasts tighten and swell. With effort, she placed a restraining hand on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, feel his heat. “Perhaps we should conduct this discussion in private.”

Drawing back, he gave her a slow wicked smile. In the light of the street lamp she caught the flare of undisguised lust in his eyes. Heat rose inside her, inflaming the tips of her breasts, arousing a heavy ache in her lower body.

Silently they turned and continued the short distance to their hotel. As they passed through the lobby and ascended the stairs to the second floor, it was all Heather could do to keep from touching him. Anticipation made her feel hot and restless, while her blood moved heavily through her veins. When they reached their room, Sloan would take her… She bit her lower lip, remembering the feel
of that sleek, hard body moving over her, within her.

The hotel room was white with moonlight when they entered, the damask-covered bed illuminated by a faint glow. Sloan didn’t light a lamp, but turned on her, pressing Heather back against the door. His urgent kiss nearly took her breath away, while his hands came up to cover her swelling breasts beneath the stiff corset.

“I’ve wanted to do this all night,” he murmured against her lips.

“Is it all you want to do?” she challenged, her mood reckless.

“Hell no, that’s not all… Take off your clothes for me,” he ordered.

“I shall need help with my gown.”

He obliged, making short work of the task, letting the elegant creation fall to the floor in a whisper of silk. But he merely watched as she finished undressing. Shoes and stockings went, followed by camisole and corset and lacy underdrawers. Finally Heather stood only in her chemise and the pearl choker.

“Now your hair,” Sloan said, watching her through narrowed eyes.

She pulled out the pins one by one with unsteady fingers, tossing them on the dressing table. Then she shook her head till her long, golden hair swirled about her shoulders.

She smiled then, and Sloan damned near stopped breathing. With that seductive smile, so sensual and lovely, Heather was pure temptress. His dream lover in the flesh.

Possessiveness surged inside him, and for once he didn’t try to fight or deny it. He felt wild. He wanted to take her hard and fast… no, he wanted
to draw out the moment till they were both crazy with need.

He wanted to make love to her slowly, kissing every hollow and pulse. He wanted to tangle his fingers in that cloud of pale hair and savor the taste of her silken skin. He wanted to see those tresses spread across his pillow as Heather lay waiting for him, her lush graceful body bare, her eyes filled with passion....

A deep ache settled in his loins. He intended to make her pay for teasing him so.

Rapidly he stripped off his coat and tie and shirt. When he was naked to the waist, he moved toward her purposefully, the image of virile strength, his bare torso strongly muscled, his bronzed arms hard with sinew. His potent energy was so strong, she could feel it wrap around her before he even touched her.

Her body tight with anticipation, Heather lifted her face to his. She thought Sloan would kiss her, but instead he put his hands lightly on her shoulders and turned her slowly to face the full-length mirror. Watching in the glass while he stood behind her, he drew down the neckline of her chemise to expose her proud, thrusting breasts.

The cool, white light was unforgiving, as was Sloan’s hard assessment of her body; her skin shone as pale and luminous as the pearls at her throat.

Heather drew a shaky breath. With her breasts scandalously bare, she felt deliciously sinful and desirable. It was all she could do to remain still as the strong bronzed fingers rose to cup her ivory flesh. She was scaldingly aware of Sloan’s near-nakedness, of his heat at her back, of his hard thighs grazing her soft bottom.

His splayed fingers pushed the mounded swells upward, exaggerating their already lush abundance,
squeezing lightly. “So beautiful,” he murmured.

His eyes were smoky and warm with desire, mesmerizing her. With excruciating slowness, he brushed the taunting crests with his thumbs, making her bite back a whimper at the sensitiveness of her nipples.

“You like that, duchess?” His voice, male and sensual, washed over her. “You like it when I play with your tits? Answer me.”

“Yes … I like it.” Weakly she leaned back against him as he fondled her, watching her own seduction. His long, callused fingers tugged on the distended peaks until her face flushed, until arousal seared through her, hot and thick.

“I like it too. I get hard every time I even think of touching you,” Sloan admitted, his voice dark and husky.

“Are you hard now?” she whispered in return, shocking herself.

His eyes flared, bright and intense in the moonlight. “Why don’t you find out?” When she hesitated, he murmured in her ear, “I’m tired of doing all the work.”

Her senses trembling with need, she turned to face him. Her shaking fingers fumbled with the buttons of his trousers, but she managed to open them. Boldly then, her hand slid inside the parted fabric and closed over him, her palm soft and warm.

His eyes half shut, Sloan gave a soft groan. “Take it out.”

Willingly she obeyed. His erection was long and hot and throbbing. Heather shivered uncontrollably as wanting flamed inside her. She could only think of how Sloan would feel when he plunged into her, how his splendid arousal would fill her.

Bewitched, every nerve in her body on edge, she caressed him, stroking the hard, hot tumescence.

“You keep that up,” he rasped, “and I’ll spend in your hand.”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

His smoldering gaze met hers with a promise of burning pleasure, but to her surprise he pulled back. “I would. I’ve got something else in mind for tonight.”

“What?”

“Punishment. You’re going to pay for teasing me all evening.”

“But I didn’t—”

“Sure you did, duchess. I had to sit through that interminable meal while you laughed and flirted with all your dinner partners and ignored me.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

“But you paid me no attention. You’re lucky I didn’t slip under the table and come up under your skirts.” He grinned.
“That
might have been interesting.”

She watched him questioningly as Sloan moved to the damask wing chair beyond the dressing table. Sitting down, he tugged off the rest of his clothing and settled back, naked and relaxed, his upthrusting manhood blatantly masculine between his parted, sinewed thighs.

“Remember how I taught you to ride me?”

“Yes.” The word was a hoarse whisper.

“Why don’t you come here, and we’ll see how much you’ve learned?”

His dark, husky voice beckoned to her. Her gaze fixed on his rigid, straining arousal, Heather moved slowly toward him, drawn by some invisible, irresistible force.

He flicked the hem of her chemise. “Take this off. I want you naked.”

Without a word, Heather drew the undergarment over her head and let it drop to the floor. His hot eyes traveled over her slowly, boldly appraising.

Slipping an arm around her waist then, Sloan pulled her down to sit sideways on his lap. She could feel his hard length against her buttocks; he was all warm, taut muscle against her softness. Yet he remained motionless.

She twisted on his lap, seeking to nestle her breasts, so naked and sensitive, in the crisp golden hairs of his chest. He skimmed his fingertips down her arms, delicately stroking.

“Sloan,” she murmured.

“Yes?”

“Don’t torture me.”

“Why not?”

His thumbs slid upward and brushed the underside of her breasts, sending sparks shooting through her.

“Please…”

“What do you want, darlin’?” He lightly pinched her flushed, sensitized nipples.

Heather gasped, arching her slender back, taut breasts thrusting out, wanting him, aching for him. Her soft flesh clamored for release. She was fully, painfully ready for him—and Sloan knew it. Yet he refused to do anything about it.

“You… I want you.”

“You can have me … eventually. When you’re hungry enough.”

His fingers slid upward, sinking deep into her tangled mane, but instead of kissing her, he merely nibbled at her lips, his tongue tracing the parted outline.

A streaking heat shuddered through her. She wanted to scream at his prolonged method of
arousal. She needed him to put an end to the restless, hot longing.

“Sloan … I
am
hungry…”

“Not enough. Not nearly enough.”

Her breath caught in her throat when he reached down and trailed a hand along the inside of one leg. Eagerly, her bare, moon-bathed thighs fell open to accommodate his touch. Unhurriedly his fingers raked downward through the soft triangle of curls. She was wet silk between her legs, her body already anticipating the pleasure of his possession. His lean fingers glided easily over the flushed, feminine lips, seeking and caressing.

Heather bit back a moan when he found the tiny sensitive nub of female flesh, quivering with the throbbing urgency spiraling up from his expert touch.

“You see, duchess, I want you begging me.”

He rubbed her sex with a featherlight pressure, making her tremble. Her eyes closing, she let her head fall back, her mouth parted in small, panting breaths. Yet his raw-silk voice aroused her as much as his exquisite stroking.

“Are you hot for me?” His dark words only fueled her desire and left her weak with wanting. Her eyes were half-lidded against the heat coursing up through her body. She was soaking wet for him, aching for him. Almost desperate, she squirmed in his lap, seeking to get closer to the heat and promise of that swollen, rigid shaft.

“Please, Sloan … take me.”

He gave her a lazy smile. “No … not yet.
I’m
not ready for
you.”

“Yes, you are.” She couldn’t believe he could make such a claim when she could feel his rock-hard erection stiff against his stomach, throbbing and pulsing.

“Touch me,” he ordered tauntingly. “Make me harder for you.”

She tried to obey. Her fumbling fingers slid between their bodies, down his hair-roughened chest and flat belly to his groin. She wanted him so badly, she was actually shaking. She found the splendor of his arousal, but her hand slipped on the pulsing crest.

“Greenhorn,” Sloan goaded softly into her mouth.

“Sloan … please…”

She strained against him, her taut nipples scraping his chest, and he relented.

“Easy, honey, I’ll take care of you.”

Sliding his hands under her arms, he lifted her up to pull her astride his thighs. “I’ll give you the wildest ride of your life.” Deliberately he rubbed the hard ridge of his manhood against her soft mound, making her shudder in torment. Finally, though, he lowered her onto his thrusting erection to satisfy her passionate need.

Shivering and grateful, Heather settled over him, sinking down to envelop his shaft. Her eyes closed in ecstasy as she savored the feel of the hot, sweet length buried deep inside her.

“That feel better?” he murmured, though he already knew the answer. She was on the edge; he knew he could finish right now with no more than a hard thrust of his hips.

When she rocked her body against him, seeking to impale herself harder, he stopped the soft surge of her thighs with his hands on her hips.

“No, be still,” he commanded in the slow, deep tones of arousal. “I haven’t given you permission to move.”

Heather quieted, but it required a fierce effort. She could feel a desperate tension building in her
body. There was something about maintaining that utter stillness that heightened every sensation.

Sloan seemed not to care that he was driving her mad. Indolently, he shut his eyes and leaned his head against the chair back while he grew very hard and heavy inside her. She could feel his pulsing throb like a heartbeat.

Still lazily, he bent his head to nuzzle her nipple. Heather whimpered, instinctively pushing her breast against his hot, loving mouth. When his lips closed over the aching peak, she sighed in a deep, almost painful satisfaction. Her hands closed in his hair, clutching him to her.

The soft sound of his suckling was powerfully erotic. And with every rasp of his tongue on her budded nipples, she felt a throbbing echo deep within her.