What A Gentleman Wants (29 page)

Marcus swept one hand down her belly, over the silk folds of her nightdress. Her skin was softer than the silk, and he moaned. Or perhaps that was her voice, ragged and breathless in his ear. He kissed her, his fingers exploring, hungry and impatient. She sagged in his arms, her hands tightening convulsively on his shoulders, and he bent her backward. It barely even penetrated his fastidious mind that he was making love to her on a table, both of them still clothed. She was under him, her eyes glazed with desire, and Marcus had reached his limit. Then she reached between them and curled her hand around his erection, and he tumbled over the precipice. He closed his hand over hers, helping her guide him.

“I never meant to let you go,” he breathed. Hannah’s lips parted in surprise, and he thrust into her so hard she gasped, astonished at the raw strength of his desire. He cupped her hips in his hands, holding her in place. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she gasped, still adjusting to the feel of him inside her. “Do it again.” He did, and she moaned, throwing back her head as the first ripples of impending climax tightened her belly. His arm slid under her thigh, spreading her open, and Hannah bit back a scream as he drove into her again, so far she could swear he touched her heart. There was nothing gentle about it, but Hannah felt it in her soul like she never had before. She came with a shattering sense of splitting open, biting down on Marcus’s shoulder to keep from shrieking. He growled, moving once more before grasping her by the back of the neck and bringing his mouth down on hers in a kiss so hard she didn’t even realize he was shaking until he tore his lips from hers with a gasp.

“Holy God,” he rasped, his shoulders heaving, his face pressed into her neck.

Hannah smiled without opening her eyes. She could feel the hard, heavy beat of her heart against her eyelids. “Yes, indeed.”

The rumble of his laugh vibrated through her, making her laugh, too, even louder when he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He set her down, then just stood there, gazing at her, his hands on his hips and his eyes burning with desire. Hannah wet her lips. “We’re a little overdressed for this.”

He was already tugging his cravat loose, peeling off his shirt. “We shall have to remedy that.” For a man accustomed to being dressed and undressed by a valet, he made short work of his clothing, Hannah thought, her eyes roaming over his chest, his arms, down his waist and hips. He was lean and hard everywhere, his skin sleek and golden in the candlelight. Dark hair covered his chest, narrowing down his stomach. His eyes never left her, those dark, dark eyes she couldn’t look away from. He put her in mind of a powerful animal, muscles taut and coiled, ready to spring—at her. Her breath caught in her throat as he sat down beside her and pulled off his boots and trousers. The duke of Exeter was naked, in her bed. Her stomach contracted with desire, and fluttered with excitement at the same time.

“Laggard,” he said softly, getting to his feet and pulling her to hers. Hannah blinked, realizing she had done nothing but watch him undress. And now he was undressing her. She shivered as he untied the satin ribbon laced up her side, loosening the nightdress. He kissed her as he dragged up the long skirt, the hem trailing along her thighs with a sensuous whisper, then broke the kiss to turn her around and whip the gown over her head. Dazed, Hannah felt his fingers running through her hair, combing out whatever remained of the neat braid she’d put it in for bed.

“I wondered…” he murmured, sliding a hand down her spine.

“What?” she managed to gasp. He wound her hair around his fist and tugged, turning her head to expose the side of her neck.

“I wondered how far,” he breathed in her ear, releasing her hair to fall over her shoulder. “Your skin…” He kissed that place right below her ear and Hannah sucked in a ragged breath, trying not to melt on the spot. “Was golden.” His hands swept up her sides to close over her breasts. “And what you did outside to make it so.”

“I…” Hannah’s head fell back against his shoulder as he kissed her neck again, his hands on her breasts, kneading her flesh, rolling the nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. “I always…” He nipped her earlobe between his teeth. “I… Oh!” He pulled her back full-length against him, and she felt him, thick and hard, against her bottom. Her knees felt weak.

“Yes?” He released her breasts, his palms skimming down her ribs, until his hands wrapped around her waisL “What did you do, darling?”

“I forgot my hat,” she blurted. His arms were around hers, and she couldn’t move them. She wiggled her hands ineffectually—or so she thought until he exhaled sharply and pushed her forward. The carved wood of the bedpost pressed into her belly as he held her in place.

His mouth lingered on her neck; he seemed to know how it affected her. His fingertips raked lightly down her back, and she gasped. Her back had always been virtuously in contact with the mattress every other time she’d made love. But Marcus was making love to her back, with just his mouth and the tips of his fingers, and it was driving her wild.

He kissed her shoulder, tracing her collarbone with his tongue. Hannah looped an arm around
the
bedpost to keep her balance. He kissed his way down her back, his palms sliding over the curves of her hips, his teeth nipping at her spine. Hannah rested her head against the post, her breath coming in short, shallow sighs. Then he dipped his head—she felt the brush of his hair on her waist—and licked the crease at the top of her thigh.

Hannah moaned. He gripped her hip with one hand, still kissing every inch of her back, as his other hand slid between her legs, easing them apart. Her legs trembled, and she made a halfhearted effort to move, but he merely took advantage of her off-balance weight to push one knee forward, so that her foot now rested on the bottom rail of the bed.

She had never felt anything like this. She had to put her other arm around the post, or fall over in a paralysis of ecstasy. Now he was pushing his fingers inside her, touching her even more insistently, his mouth still moving over places that had never been kissed before. A shudder ripped through her, and she gulped back a sob.

Just when it seemed he would drive her over the edge, he stopped. Swaying on her feet, her head swimming, she let him turn her, until she looked down at him kneeling at her feet.

There was something almost fierce in his expression, concentrated on her. “Why are you frowning?” she whispered.

His brow cleared at once. “Frown? That was no frown.” A wicked smile curled his mouth. “I was merely deciding which part of you to devour first.”

She couldn’t stop a smile, even as her breath caught in anticipation. Just the sound of his voice did wicked things inside her.

“That settles it, then.” He surged to his feet and caught her around the waist, tossing her onto the bed. “It will have to be all of you.”

“All at once?” she managed to say as he lifted her leg up and hooked it over his shoulder, driving into her in one smooth motion and causing her to arch like a bowstring underneath him.

“As near as I can manage.” He brushed the hair from her forehead, those piercing eyes searching her face. “I can’t seem to help myself.” He leaned down to kiss her, letting her knee slip down his arm until Hannah curled both her legs around his waist. And then neither spoke again for some time, too caught up in exploring each other.

This was not the gentle joining she had known before; this was possession. Only, she wasn’t quite sure who was conqueror. One moment he would stretch her beneath him and drive into her with long hard thrusts that left no doubt who was mastering whom, and minutes later their positions would be reversed, and she would be straddling him, fully in command.

It was thrilling, she found, to be in control, to hold him in her thrall and know that he knew it, too.

When they finally lay, sated and spent, Hannah truly did feel devoured. Her legs felt like jelly. Her insides felt like warm butter. Her mind was incapable of forming or holding a thought, it seemed, and when Marcus pulled her into his arms, nesding her against him, her only response was to snuggle closer and yawn.

“That’s that, then,” he said with a sigh.

“Hmm? What’s what?” she murmured, fighting off sleep. After all the excitement of David’s return, then this… discussion with Marcus… She giggled softly to herself, calling it a discussion when they’d barely said two words all evening… What had she been thinking? Oh, yes… she was utterly exhausted.

“Nothing, darling,” he said with a rumbling laugh. He curled his other arm around her waist. “I’ve just decided which country manor I should give you. I did promise you one, after all. I believe Ainsley Park would suit you very well.” He yawned. “Very well indeed.” Hannah just smiled without opening her eyes, and fell asleep with his breath warm on her shoulder.

The first thing that crossed Hannah’s mind when she woke the next morning was what a wonderful dream it had all been, Marcus telling her he never wanted her to leave, taking her into his arms, making love to her on the dressing table with a raw passion that made her body tingle in remembrance. She could swear she still felt the glide of his hands along her skin…

His fingers moved along her arm up to her shoulder. When he turned her over onto her back, she shivered. Not a dream, but a fantasy come to life. He kissed her lightly, his lips lingering on hers.

“Good morning,” she whispered. He smiled down at her.

“A very good morning indeed.” She twined her arms around his neck, pulling him back to her. He came into her arms very naturally, very easily.

He lowered himself onto his elbows above her, his body settling atop hers. His hands slid over her arms, until his fingers insinuated themselves between her own. As his kiss grew hotter, deeper, as he moved over her in potent foreshadowing, he pried her hands apart, stretching her arms above her head until she was stretched flat beneath him.

“Hold on,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the blood pounding in her ears. She dimly felt him winding her fingers around the carvings of the headboard. “Don’t let go,” he added, his eyes crinkling in a faint grin. Hannah could only nod once, jerkily, as his hands swept down her arms, his fingertips scoring the sensitive undersides. Her body arched all on its own, and she thought he chuckled softly as he palmed the swells of her breasts. Then he bent his head, and Hannah lost whatever awareness of such things she had left.

This was… Oh, heavens. This wasn’t making love, this was worship. He knelt between her knees, head bowed over her as his wicked, wonderful mouth moved down the contours of her throat, over her shoulder, ana onto her breast. He didn’t just kiss her; there was an insistent pull in his lips, as if he were dragging her with him deeper into a whirlpool of sensation, drowning her…

Even though she went willingly, Hannah knew a moment of fear. She was out of her depth here, with him. Her first marriage hadn’t prepared her for the intensely physical reaction she had to this—to him. Just from his kiss, and the look in his eyes, her body had reacted with astonishing speed; he could make love to her this instant, easily, even though he had yet to touch her intimately. It was dangerous, and frightening, how fierce and visceral her response to him was. It was more than the natural reaction of a female to a male. It was more than the emotional bond she’d had with Stephen. It was… rapture.

His teeth grazed over her nipple, and every nerve in her body jumped at the shock. Unconsciously, her grip on the headboard loosened. He sucked once, gently, and she gasped for air. He shifted his weight, pushing her knees higher and wider, and she shuddered at the image of herself open before him, wait ing for him, ready for him.

She must have said his name, or made some similar sound, because he stopped then, looking up at her. His dark hair was tousled every which way, his face taut. He looked dangerous and reckless, not at all like his usual controlled self. “You have no idea,” he said, “how much I want you.”

“I think… I think I may have some idea,” she said breathlessly. His hand had moved down to rest lightly between her legs. She could feel the warmth of his skin against hers, and it wasn’t enough. Her hips rocked involuntarily.

Without taking his eyes from hers, Marcus touched her. Her eyelids dropped as her neck arched, her body undulating to push his fingers deeper. For a long moment he stroked her, but she was already slippery wet. It was wildly exciting to realize her desire for him matched his for her—or nearly so, Marcus thought, bracing himself on one arm and pressing into her. He didn’t think anything could compare with how much he wanted her.

He meant to be gentle—gentle and patient and kind, a gentleman. More like the man she had once loved. Last night had been so frenzied and desperate because he had been… frenzied and desperate. After yesterday, when he had thought he would lose her forever, he’d utterly lost his mind and made love to her with a ruthlessness that shocked him; he wasn’t like that. A
gentleman
wasn’t like that. He had never lost control of himself that way, with a woman or with anyone else. But her uninhibited response had also shocked him, not only for being unanticipated but for being more arousing than he had thought possible.

That had been the moment he realized he had fallen for her, unexpectedly and inexplicably—but also, he suspected, irrevocably.

He had woken in the middle of the night, Hannah sound asleep in his arms, and lay awake a long time trying to figure out what had happened to him. She wasn’t the woman he had ever pictured at his side— two months ago he would have laughed at the idea of even knowing such a woman—but she was the one he found he couldn’t do without, the one he wanted more than anything or anyone he had ever wanted in his life. He didn’t give a damn what society said about him for it. She was good for him, he had realized; she was perfect for him. And he meant to do anything to keep her with him.

But as he moved slowly, gently, inside her, Hannah wasn’t having it. She didn’t want him restrained and proper, she wanted the hungry, devouring lover he’d been last night. Like champagne, she liked the taste of it at once, and wanted more. She raked her nails lightly down his back to clasp his backside. He stiffened, looking down at her in surprise. Hannah flexed her spine and pulled him tighter against her. “I’m not made of glass, you know,” she whispered.