Captivating the Scoundrel

by Darcy Burke

  So they walked upstairs side by side in awkward silence, the air crackling between them like an electrical storm. They arrived at his chamber first, and she paused.

  “Good night, Gideon.”

  “Good night, Daphne.” Though she’d seemed to cheer up by the end of the dinner, he still sensed a rawness within her. “If you have a nightmare—”

  “You’re only a door away.” She flashed him a smile. “Good night.”

  Then she turned, and he watched hungrily as the gauzy material of her gown swayed with her hips. How he longed to sweep it all away…

  Instead, he walked into his chamber and threw his clothes off in frustrated jerks. Standing nude in the middle of the chamber, he stared at the door separating them. A slender, terrible, hateful door.

  His cock was already at half-mast and had been throughout most of dinner. It would take just a few quick strokes to bring himself to the brink and probably only a few more to send him over the edge.

  But she was so fucking close, he could practically taste her. Or hear her. He suddenly recalled the seductive whimper she’d released in the bath. Christ, he’d almost come on the spot.

  Without thinking, he walked to the door, every fiber of his being pushing him forward. Or maybe it was those damned forces of nature Gwyneth had prattled on about.

  He hesitated, his hand on the latch. His body screamed for him to open it, to take what they both wanted. No, to give her a night of ecstasy that would banish the shadows of loneliness that lived in her gaze.

  He turned the latch. And then everything went black.

  Chapter 14

  Gideon’s body fell backward, his magnificent naked form sprawling atop the carpet. Daphne rushed into his room and knelt beside him. “Gideon?”

  His eyes were closed, but he was breathing. Of course she hadn’t killed him. But she’d apparently knocked him unconscious with the door.

  Or not.

  One of his eyes opened and then the other. He raised his hand to his forehead, where an angry red mark slashed across his flesh.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, smoothing his dark hair back from the wound. Well, it wasn’t really a wound.

  He narrowed his eyes at her with a look of confusion. “Did you hit me with the door?”

  “You must have been standing right on the other side.” She glanced down at him, heat flashing through her. “Naked.”

  He looked at her. “And you are not. Naked.”

  She wore her dressing robe. “I’m naked beneath this.”

  The confusion in his gaze sparked into curiosity. “You were coming in here to seduce me?”

  She looked over him again, one of her brows riding high on her forehead. “And what were you doing—coming to my room to play chess?”

  “Naked chess does sound rather amusing.”

  “Amusing? I’m not sure I could focus on chess at all.” Her gaze drifted downward again. His nakedness was most distracting. Especially since his cock was swelling. Every time she looked, it was a bit larger.

  “You have a point there,” he said, reaching up to pull a pin from her hair.

  “Are we flirting?” she asked, feeling suddenly breathless.

  “Hmm, I think so.” He tugged another pin free and another, tossing them aside as he let lock after lock of her hair down.

  “Does this mean you aren’t going to send me back to my room?” She held her breath.

  “Not unless you ask me to.”

  She exhaled with relief as desire washed through her. She’d expected him to protest. She’d never imagined he would flirt and seduce. Could you seduce someone who was also intent on seduction?

  She hoped she was about to find out.

  He pulled the last of the pins free, and her hair fell down, cloaking the sides of her face. He touched her cheek and then stroked her hair back until he cupped the base of her skull, drawing her down to him.

  She didn’t need much urging. Lowering her mouth to his, she was surprised when he was open for her, his lips and tongue eagerly devouring her the moment they met. His hand dug into her scalp, holding her captive while he kissed her. Thoroughly. Deeply. Sensually.

  Breathless, she tore her mouth away to gain some much-needed air. He kissed along her jaw and down her neck as he clasped her waist. “Put your leg over me,” he commanded.

  She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant at first.

  “Like I’m a horse, and you’re riding astride,” he said without stopping his endless barrage of kisses.

  She moved over him, until her knees were on either side of his waist. “Like that?”

  He let go of her head and grasped her hips, moving her lower until she felt the length of his shaft between her legs. “No, like that.”

  She closed her eyes, and lights flashed behind her lids. The sensation of him against her was almost too much to bear. “Gideon, I can’t get—”

  “You can, and you will. Patience, love.” He untied the sash at her waist and parted the sides of her dressing gown, exposing her flesh inch by inch. “Off.”

  She let it fall down her shoulders and shrugged it from her arms, leaving herself exposed to his hungry gaze. As in the bath earlier, she felt sensitive and weighted with desire, as if it would crush her with its intensity.

  He skimmed his hands up from her hips, brushing over her rib cage until he met the undersides of her breasts. He lifted them gently, seeming to test their weight. He gently stroked her flesh, teasing her with light, airy touches that left her aching for more.

  “Gideon.” The word was a plea. A whimper. A prayer.

  He pulled her nipples, softly at first, then with more strength. He closed his thumbs and forefingers over them and tugged, drawing a gasp from her lips. She realized she was pushing down on him, seeking relief for her desperate sex.

  She stopped herself and tried to ease back, but he brought one hand down to her waist and held her fast.

  “Don’t stop,” he murmured. “I can feel how wet you are. Do you know what that means, Daphne?”

  She shook her head.

  “It means you want me. It means you want me inside you. Do you want that?”

  She nodded.

  “Tell me.”

  “I want you inside me.” In that moment, she would have said anything. To anyone.

  “Good.”

  He moved his hand across her lower abdomen, dipping down until he found the nest of curls that guarded her sex. And he kept going, his fingers stroking over her flesh until he found a spot that made her jerk and cry out.

  That was the place she’d pressed in the tub, only it felt much better when he did it. Probably because he bloody well knew what he was doing. And thank God for that.

  Using his thumb, he circled her flesh, tormenting her with sweet temptation. She wasn’t sure what she wanted, but her hips began to move and she rubbed herself over his shaft. The friction of it along with his thumb was the best thing she’d ever felt in her life.

  She closed her eyes and focused on the rhythm of it.

  “Yes, Daphne. Move.”

  Taking his direction, she rotated her hips, back and forth, side to side. Each movement brought a new, spectacular sensation, heightened by the incessant stroke of his thumb.

  But soon it wasn’t enough. She began to whimper again, her body moving faster as she tried to achieve something she couldn’t name.

  Suddenly, he bucked up, and before she knew it, he’d swept her off him and into his arms. He carried her to the bed and laid her on the coverlet. Then he climbed up and knelt between her legs, his fingers stroking deftly over her sex.

  She moaned, desperate for relief. He slipped one finger inside her, and the penetration swept her right back to where she’d been. No, past it. This was where she wanted to be. He retreated, then slid in deep, filling her and repeating the motion until she cried out. She parted her legs wide and clasped his hips. This was divine, but there had to be more.

  The sensation of being filled grew. Was t
hat two fingers? She wasn’t watching. In fact, her eyes were closed. She was barely aware of anything except the ecstasy building inside her.

  “Let it take you away, Daphne,” he urged, his voice dark and seductive. “Give in to it. Do you feel it?”

  Her body was rising, sensation soaring within her. She came up to meet his thrusts. Whatever she was looking for rushed upon her, driving her over the edge of desperation into a field of bliss. She cried out, and suddenly, there was more of him.

  She felt him between her thighs, his cock sliding into her channel, stretching her flesh. There was a flash of discomfort as she accommodated the intrusion, but there was also a keen sense of anticipation with the promise of pleasure.

  Opening her eyes, she met his stormy gaze. He looked as if he were in pain, but she recognized that feeling. A moment ago, before the intense pleasure had swept her away, she’d thought she’d never find satisfaction. But of course it was right there—she had only to trust him.

  She more than trusted him. She loved him.

  Pulling his head down, she kissed him deeply, wanting to be joined to him in every way possible. He kissed her back, his tongue driving into her mouth as his sex stroked into her body. He coaxed her legs up to curl around his waist, fitting them even more perfectly together.

  Then he set a rhythm—pressing into her and sliding out. With each thrust, she held him more tightly, welcoming him into her body in search of another release. If that were even possible.

  But it seemed it must be. Ecstasy built within her, and he began to move faster. Her body quivered with desire, pushing her again toward the pinnacle she’d just achieved. But this was a bit different—the feeling of him fully inside her, his body aligned with hers, their limbs entwined. He groaned between kisses and put his hand between them, his thumb teasing her again until she cascaded into the well of pleasure once more.

  She fell back against the bed, and he left her. She heard him grunt but didn’t open her eyes. She was too spent. Too heavy with joy.

  After a few moments, she felt him leave the bed. Now she opened her eyes. “Where are you going?”

  “Just tidying up. Get under the covers. Unless you want to go back to your room?” There was a note of uncertainty in his voice.

  “I don’t.” She climbed under the covers and yawned.

  He returned, joining her between the cool bedclothes. “I need to warm you up,” he said, drawing her close against him.

  She kissed his shoulder and burrowed into his chest. “I couldn’t possibly be cold in your arms.”

  He kissed her head. “Then I better not let you go.”

  She prayed he never would.

  The sky was barely beginning to lighten when Gideon stirred. The warm body beside him roused him fully awake. It had been years since he’d slept with another person—and he’d never thought to do it again.

  What the hell had he done?

  He looked over at Daphne, her dark auburn hair curling against her back, which was to him. He resisted the urge to press his body alongside hers. He’d done enough last night.

  Rolling to his back, he stared at the dark blue canopy stretching over the top of the bed. Was it really that terrible? He’d wanted her, and she’d wanted him. He smiled and rubbed his forehead, which was still a bit tender, thinking of how she’d opened the door into him.

  It was only terrible if they annulled the marriage. Then she would be a spoiled woman. At least he’d taken the precaution of leaving her body before spilling his seed.

  Hell, she was going to be ruined either way. It was likely common knowledge that they were wed—he had to assume Foliot would bray about it to anyone who cared to listen and even to those who didn’t. An annulment would be ruinous to her, even if it was his fault due to fraud.

  He turned and leaned up on his elbow, bracing his head on his hand while he looked at her. She was so delicately beautiful. So strong and independent, and yet so vulnerable and alone. It was that last part that ate at him. He didn’t want her to be alone.

  Or maybe it was that he didn’t want to be alone anymore either.

  Was there a chance they could have a future together? Could they be happy? He thought of Rhys and Margery and their joyful life together. Now their children seemed to have found the same thing. Gideon also thought of his mother, whom he’d been angry with for so long. At last she might finally have true happiness—and peace.

  He’d just never imagined those things for him. His father had persuaded him that he and Gideon weren’t meant to be monogamous. They had to marry, of course—for the title—but their wives had to understand their masculine needs. That Gideon had once believed that toxic nonsense made him fairly ill. He supposed the fact that he didn’t any longer was proof that he wasn’t like his father. And didn’t that mean he could be worthy of love?

  Worthy. That word had taken on a higher meaning in recent days. He still wasn’t sure it was an accurate description of him.

  Daphne turned over, her hair falling over her face. She pushed it back, and her eyes fluttered open. Her gaze was mostly a mossy green in the faint morning light that had just begun to spill into the room from the window behind Gideon.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Good morning.” She smiled shyly. “I trust you slept well.”

  “Better than in quite some time.” That was certainly true. “You?”

  “Same.” She scooted closer but didn’t touch him. “Thank you for letting me stay last night. I hope you don’t have any regrets.”

  “No.” He’d had second and third thoughts, but after them—or maybe it was looking into her eyes just now—he realized he’d choose the same action again. And perhaps again. His cock was already stiff.

  “Good.” She smiled wider and moved even closer. She splayed her hand across his chest and stroked him from the hollow of his throat down across his nipple, making him gasp. “Are you sensitive here like I am?”

  “In a different way, probably.”

  She closed her thumb and forefinger over him and gently pulled. “Different, how?”

  Desire shot through him, sending more blood pounding into his cock. “Perhaps not all that different.” As she continued her exploration, moving to his other nipple, he croaked, “Daphne, we should perhaps get dressed. Gwyneth will be expecting us soon.”

  “Hmm, I wonder how this feels.” Daphne leaned forward and licked his nipple.

  It was a slender line between excessive pleasure and near pain. He wanted to flip her onto her back and sink deep into her body, but she had to be sensitive from last night.

  “Gideon?” Her tongue darted across his skin again.

  He managed to growl, “Exquisite.”

  “Truly? It sounds as if you’re being drawn and quartered.”

  “God, I hope that’s not what that actually sounds like.” Good, maybe if she talked to him about torture, he’d be able to stop thinking about shagging her senseless.

  She laughed against him, tickling his flesh. Her hand skimmed down his chest, her fingertips grazing along his abdomen. Then she went lower, and he gasped. She touched his hip, and his cock twitched.

  “Daphne.”

  “Yes?” She kissed his chest and wrapped her hand around his shaft. “Oh, this feels rather splendid. Is it all right that I’m touching you here?”

  “It’s more than all right.” It was bloody spectacular.

  “You said you haven’t been with a woman…in a long time. What can I do?” She tipped her head back and looked up at him, her gaze liquid heat.

  “What you’re doing is fine,” he ground out.

  She slid her fingers along his length. “I have no idea what I’m doing. Surely you can give me a little instruction…” Her hand closed over him, and she moved it up and down his shaft.

  “Ah, it feels as if you know precisely what you’re doing. I’m not sure I can offer additional instruction.” Indeed, her grasp of the activity was going to drive him straight into sensual oblivion.<
br />
  Her mouth traveled a downward path as she used her lips and tongue to spin him into a frenzy of lust. When her head disappeared beneath the covers, he froze, his muscles tensing in anticipation.

  “Daphne. What are you doing?”

  “Something I read about. I may have lied when I said I had no idea. I have some idea. I like to research, you know.”

  Her words, though muffled, enflamed him. The moment her lips touched his flesh, he bucked from the bed. Pushing the covers back, he cradled her head and murmured, “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize.” The words were muffled again because she had him between her lips. And then she took him into her, and he was absolutely enthralled.

  The combination of the sensation of her mouth and tongue stroking over him and of the visual stimulation of what she was doing sent another rush of blood to his cock. She held the base while she worked, behaving as if she’d done this a hundred times. Jealousy spiked through him, and he felt like a hypocritical ass. He wasn’t going to think of her past—true or not—or his. The only thing that mattered was this moment.

  Her mouth closed around him, taking him deep, almost into her throat, where the muscles constricted. Shit, he was going to spill himself. It was too late.

  “Daphne.” He gripped her head with one hand and fisted the bedclothes with the other as he came in her mouth.

  Expecting her to pull back, he let go of her and cast his head back as his orgasm swept through him. But she didn’t pull back. She continued to lick and suck him until he was utterly spent.

  When he finally opened his eyes, she lay down beside him with a rather satisfied smile. Indeed, she looked as if she’d been the one pleasured.

  “You liked that,” she said, sounding quite proud. As she bloody well should.

  “Obviously.” He shook his head. “No. Like does not begin to describe my feelings about that.” He rolled over her, covering her body with his. She gasped in surprise and curled her arms around his neck. “Your turn.” He lowered his head and kissed her. She tasted salty, and he realized he’d never kissed a woman after…that. He’d never wanted to.