When We Meet Again (33 page)

"Nonetheless. " She stepped closer to him, concern shining in her eyes. "You will not do anything foolish, will you?"

"Anything foolish?" Blast it all, he was more than ready to do something extremely foolish. With her. Right now. "There are any number of things I should like to do that one might consider foolish."

"Anything dangerous then."

He was certain she had some feelings for him, even if she might still feel a little something for that idiot Penwick. Precisely why being together now would just make it more difficult to be apart when the time came. For both of them. "I shall avoid anything dangerous."

"Dare I believe you?" Her gaze searched his.

On the other hand, being together now would give them both something to look back on in the years to come. "Yes, of course."

"May I have your word then?"

And it was not as if they had not shared his bed before. "You may have whatever you wish." She stared up at him. "Whatever I wish?"

He nodded.

She rested her hand on his chest, and he tried not to jump. "Anything at all?"

"Anything at all. " He grabbed her hand, pulled it to his lips, and kissed her palm. "But you should leave now."

"I don't want to leave."

Nor did he want her to leave. Regardless, it was in her best interest for whatever it was between them to go no farther. Before he broke her heart. Before she broke his.

He released her hand and stepped back. "Pamela, do you not understand what will happen if you remain here? In my bed chamber? At this hour of the night? Dressed like... like that?"

"I understand completely."

"I am not a saint. Do not forget my reputation. And I am not used to denial."

"Excellent. In that we agree. I, too, am not fond of denial. " Her gaze met his. "You did say anything at all."

"That might have been another mistake on my part."

"Do you think so?" She drew a deep breath, unfastened her robe, pulled it off, and dropped it to the floor. "Pity."

"Yes, I think so, " he snapped, scooped the robe up and tossed it at her. "If you are trying to seduce me, I warn you, you will not be successful."

She held the robe out by two fingers and let it drift back to the floor. It was perhaps the most seductive thing he had ever seen. "Oh?"

"Do not play games with me, Pamela."

"But I rather like games. " She stepped closer.

"I do not. " He stepped back until his back was pressed against the post of the bed. "I am trying to... to save you."

"Save me?" She slipped her hands through the opening of his dressing gown and ran her fingers lightly over his chest. His stomach clenched. "From you?"

"More likely from yourself. " He caught her hands and glared down at her. "I warn you, Pamela, I shall not resist what you offer for much longer."

"Good. " She opened his dressing gown, leaned forward, and placed a kiss in the center of his chest. His resistance shattered, and he pulled her into his arms.

"Pamela. " Serenissima. He groaned and crushed his lips to hers. She tasted of fire and passion and memory. Her lips greeted his eagerly, her hunger matched his own. Her mouth opened beneath his, and his tongue plundered hers.

She yanked his dressing gown open and pushed it over his shoulders. He pulled her harder against him, the soft fabric of her nightdress nothing more than a whisper between the heat of his body and hers. Her breasts molded against his chest, and he knew he was lost. And did not care. He ran his hands over her back and down the curve of her buttocks, cupping them in his hands and pressing her closer against him. His hips ground against hers, his arousal hard and hot and aching. He gathered the fabric of her gown and pulled it up until he could slide his hands over the smooth flesh of the backs of her thighs. He shifted quickly, drew his lips from hers, and in one well-practiced move, pulled her gown over her head and tossed it aside.

"Oh my. " She sighed.

He pulled her hard against him, and his lips once more claimed hers. Her naked breasts crushed against his bare chest, the hard tips of her nipples pressing against him. His hands roamed over the planes of her back and the curves of her derriere. Her hands trailed down his side, her touch light and fluttering, as if she wanted to explore every inch of him but was hesitant and unsure. He rather liked that. Innocence and eagerness. Her hands reached the silk of his trousers and skimmed over the fabric to caress his buttocks. Abruptly, he stepped away.

She drew a deep shuddering breath. "Alexei—"

"Do be quiet, for once, Pamela, I wish to look at you. " As I have not done before. As I have alwayswished to do.

"I have no wish to be inspected."

He laughed and took her hands. "Nor have I any desire to inspect. " His gaze moved from her eyes to the long column of her throat and lower. "Only to worship. " Her body caught the light of the lamp and glowed with warmth like a painting by a renaissance master. Sensual and golden as if painted by Botticelli himself. A fresco come to life, an angel to earth. Her breasts were firm and full, her waist narrow, her hips broad and inviting. She was exactly as he had pictured her in the quiet hours of his dreams, the dreams that had filled the years since he had known her only with his touch.

"Well?" She shifted from foot to foot as if distinctly uncomfortable. "Have you seen enough then?"

"Never, " he murmured, and released her hands.

He stepped closer and cupped her breasts, then lowered his mouth to her nipple. He ran his tongue lightly over the tip, and she gasped. His tongue trailed around her nipple, and it tightened and puckered at his touch. He drew it into his mouth and suckled, and he felt her stomach tighten against him. He turned his attention to the other breast and feasted on it until her breath came short and shallow. Alexei dropped to his knees and clasped her closer to him and nuzzled his mouth against the soft flesh of her stomach. Tasting and teasing until her fingers tightened on his shoulders, and she moaned. He ran his hands along the backs of her thighs and her calves and caressed her ankles. And then slowly, so slowly, he felt her hold her breath, drew his hands up between her legs to the soft flesh of her inner thighs and the curls at the juncture of her legs. He nudged her legs apart with one hand and lightly cupped her mound with the other. She sucked in a sharp breath. She was hot and moist against his hand, and his fingers explored the soft, slick folds of flesh. He found the hard sensitive point of her pleasure and caressed it.

She gasped and tried to pull away, but he held her tight and stroked her until he felt the tension building within her. And his own arousal throbbed between his legs.

Without warning he rose, scooped her into his arms, and laid her on the bed. Her eyes were glazed with passion, and she could do no more than moan.

He shrugged out of his trousers, then joined her on the bed to kneel between her legs. He spread her legs and lowered his mouth to taste of her. She gasped and arched upward. His tongue caressed her, teased her until she writhed with pleasure. The taste of her, the scent of her aroused him until he knew he could take no more and knew as well she tottered on the brink of release. He shifted to straddle her, braced himself with one arm and guided his aching member into her.

"Alexei. " She sighed and wrapped her arms around him.

He entered her gently and gasped with the intense sensation of her wet heat surrounding him, enveloping him. She was tight and slick with desire, and he resisted the urge to hurry. He pushed with a slow deliberate stroke until he was buried inside her, and she consumed him. He lay still for a long moment, savoring the feel of being one with her. Of her body joined with his. Perfectly and forever. At last he slid back until he had nearly withdrawn, then pushed forward again, a measured, even stroke designed to heighten her pleasure and his. She wrapped her legs around him and arched her hips up to meet him. He wanted to go on like this forever, but tension built inexorably within him and urged him faster. His pace increased. The feel of her body around his spurred him on. He thrust harder, and she met him with urgency of her own. She whimpered and gripped his shoulders, and he buried his head in her neck. He climbed harder and faster toward release, toward bliss, but would not allow it. Not without her. Her cries and the labored sound of her breathing mixed and meshed with his, and he no longer knew whose was whose. No longer knew where he ended and she began. No longer cared. Her pleasure was his, his was hers. They were as one, joined in sensation and desire, and they soared toward a pleasure he had but tasted before and never, never like this. And when he thought he could restrain his own urgency no longer, she called out his name and dug her nails hard into his shoulders, and her body exploded beneath his in waves that washed through her and into his very soul. And his own release came hot and intense and convulsed his body as if it would tear him apart, and for a moment he knew without question he could die in her arms without regrets, with a joy he'd never known. With love.

He wrapped his leg around hers, binding her tightly against him and shifted to the side in a careful manner. He was not yet ready to withdraw from her. Indeed, the feel of her enveloping him even now in his sated state was a pleasure he did not wish to give up.

She smiled into his eyes. "That was... " She heaved a contented sigh. "Very..."

"Yes it was. " He smiled back. "Very."

She brushed her lips across his. "You are very..."

He chuckled. "You are rather very yourself."

"Yes, I am. " She smiled with satisfaction. "Do you think I'm wanton, Your Highness?"

"I think you're perfect, Miss Effington."

"I'm not at all certain I wish to be perfect. " She tightened around him, and a jolt of pleasure shot through him. "I think I need a lot of practice to become perfect." He felt himself growing hard again within her. "There is much to be said for practice."

"You, however, do this exceedingly well, Your Highness. " She pressed her lips to his in a slow, leisurely manner. "It's all that practice no doubt."

"It doesn't bother you then?"

She swung her leg over his and the next moment was sitting, impaled, grinning down at him. "I am extremely jealous of each and every one, but your past is your past and cannot be changed. " She started to rock slowly.

"Oh... yes... well... " Dear God, she felt good. He gripped her waist. "I do not care either, you know, about your past and what, well, however many men..."

"Men?" Her eyes closed, and her head dropped back, and he watched the effect of increasing pleasure play across her face. "Certainly not as many... oh my... as you've had women."

"Ah yes... half the women... in Europe. " He was not entirely sure what he was saying, his attention was not at all on his words. "Although you surely have not been with... that many men."

"Of course not... l... " She leaned forward, and he caught her breasts in his hands. She moaned. "Does... does it matter?"

"No... no. " He could barely get out the words. "Not in the least."

"I would think..."

He rubbed his thumbs over her nipples.

"Dear Lord... Alexei... " She ground her hips harder against his. "Why is it of significance?" He thrust upward. "What?"

"How many men... oh yes... " She bent forward, and he drew her breasts to his mouth. "When the number of women... you've had..."

"Because, " he murmured against her breasts, "I am a man."

"That's not at all... " She gasped. "Fair."

"Standards... are different... " he raised his hips to meet hers. "For men." She braced her hands on either side of his shoulders and met his thrusts with hers. "Why?" The word was more a cry than a question.

He gripped her buttocks and pulled her down hard onto him.

"They... just are."

He pounded himself up into her, and she responded with an eagerness, delightfully wanton, that matched his, and once more he felt himself nearing release. He slipped his hand between them and flicked his fingers over that most sensitive spot of hers, and she screamed and her body jerked and spasmed around his, and his release came with a force he did not expect. It ripped his breath away. And seared his soul. She collapsed on top of him. Her heart pounded against him, in unison with his. An odd sort of sound came from her, and her body shook on top of his.

"Pamela?" Her head was on his chest and he could not see her face. "Please tell me you are not laughing."

She raised her head and grinned. "I couldn't help it, it was so"—she sighed with utter satisfaction—"delicious."

He chuckled. "It was rather delicious."

"Now then, as we were saying."

"Were we saying something?"

"Indeed we were. " She studied him. "Why does it matter how many men there have been in my life—" He groaned. "Pamela."

"—when it is not supposed to matter how many women there have been in yours?"

"I do not know. " He blew a long breath. "A man simply likes to think that the woman that he cares about—"

She arched a brow. "You care about me?"

"Of course, I am your fiancé."

"Ah yes, how silly of me to forget."