Shameless

by ROBARDS, KAREN

  He licked into her mouth, claimed it, possessed it so thoroughly that she was no longer sure where his mouth left off and hers began. His hand on her bottom rocked her against him until that most secret part of her ached and wept. But instead of reacting to such a gross assault on her person as she would have expected herself to do, instead of protesting or whisking herself out of his arms or responding with anger or fear or any of the myriad emotions she knew she should be feeling, she made a little sound of surprised pleasure into his mouth and tightened her grip on him and kissed him harder, kissed him as if she never wanted to stop, which she didn’t. Knowing it was wicked, knowing it was wrong, she pressed even closer against the hardness of him, moved against it, experimentally, tantalized by its bold promise, wanting to get closer, to deepen the contact, to keep the delicious tremors of excitement that radiated from that place where he pressed most firmly into her, building until—what? She didn’t quite know. All she knew was that the prospect made her dizzy. When his hand slid from her bottom down the length of her thigh and lifted it so that her leg curved atop his in the most wanton position imaginable, she let him do as he would, allowing him to pull her skirts out of the way without protest, even, if she was honest, with a shameful eagerness for what would come next. If she was going to die, which with every minute that passed seemed more and more likely, why should she not first experience this dark, forbidden thing he would teach her? The very thought of it filled her with longing. That, along with the sheer outrageousness of feeling the smooth cloth of his pantaloons and the long, muscular legs they sheathed intertwining with the soft bare skin of her thighs, made her heart pound and her toes curl. Then one thigh pushed fully between her legs. It lodged possessively against her, on purpose she judged, moving in the most arousing fashion against that secret place at the juncture of her thighs, which, as she wore nothing beneath her petticoats save her chemise, was naked and thus left totally vulnerable to his machinations. The muscular invasion made her squirm against it quite without volition, and the resulting jolt of fire caused her to go all light-headed as her insides liquefied in a burning rush.

  Almost mindless with sensation now, kissing him fervently, she moved against him with an instinct she had never realized she possessed. She was barely aware of anything besides the fiery passion he was awakening her to as he turned her onto her back and slid her arms free of the greatcoat, which then acted as a cushion for the unyielding rock beneath them. Clinging to him, answering him kiss for torrid kiss, she realized dimly even as his weight settled on top of her and her thighs spread willingly apart to accommodate his that this was what she had avoided for so long, what she had dreaded, what she had shuddered at the prospect of being forced to endure. If she was going to die, though, she did not want to do so without knowing what this ultimate experience was like. Caught up in the moment, in the danger and the heat of it, in the strange, unimagined but delicious urges that he had roused in her, she surrendered utterly. The now-driving demands of her own body, the physical cravings she had never dreamed existed inside her, the thought that this brief time with him might be all she would ever have, seduced her past the point of reason, and she recognized with a flicker of amazed acceptance that she was his to do with as he would. He kissed her, and she kissed him back. He rocked against her, and she arched and moaned and moved in the most lascivious response. It helped that it was darker even than the darkest midnight, that she couldn’t see that they were twined so closely that their bodies were almost one, that she was returning his kisses and caresses with an abandon that spoke far more of strumpet than of lady, that her skirts were pushed up around her waist and he was lying between her thighs in the most debauched of positions. But even if it had been broad daylight, even if they had been caught out in the open air with legions of onlookers to gasp and point, she thought she would not have been able to summon the will at that point to call a halt. This hot, urgent quaking, this most unexpected onslaught of the earthiest of passions, was like nothing she had ever in her life expected to feel, and to her own amazement she discovered she was now completely powerless to resist.

  When his mouth slid from hers to trace a searing path down the tender cord at the side of her neck, she gave a tiny gasp and clutched at the long, crisp waves of his hair. He was settled firmly between her legs now, rocking fully clothed against her nakedness, and she writhed helplessly at the delicious torment.

  “Neil . . . ”

  “Mm?” It was a sensuous murmur, uttered as he pressed a necklace of scorching kisses around the base of her throat.

  “I—oh.” Her mind went fuzzy with shocked pleasure as one of those large, strong hands she had made mental note of before slid inside her bodice to find her breast. He caressed her, so lightly, cupping his palm delicately over her breast as if it were made of spun sugar and would melt, then dipping beneath the soft globe to hold it in place as his thumb brushed her nipple. That brief, barely there contact shot through her like a lightning bolt. She shivered and clutched at his shoulders and tightened her thighs so they pressed beseechingly against either side of his. Her lips parted, but only to breathe erratically as his hand then made itself at home inside her bodice. It felt big and warm and possessive as he thoroughly fondled first one bare breast and then the other. Instinctively she arched against him, offering herself up to him with a voluptuousness she would have said was absolutely not in her character, moving beneath him in silent, urgent entreaty as the insistent quaking deep inside her tightened and intensified until she could hardly bear it. She wanted—she wanted—she wanted—more.

  “I love the way you taste.” His mouth slid along her collarbone. His voice was husky and low. “So sweet.”

  She realized he was tugging at her bodice, pulling it down farther, pulling it completely out of his way to bare her breasts for his kisses, for his mouth, and barely swallowed a moan.

  “I mean to love you, Beth.”

  Her heart beat so fast that she thought he must feel its frenzied pounding against his lips as they traced their way up the first gentle swell of her breasts toward her nipple, which was upright and quivering in anticipation. Still fully clothed, he pressed himself solidly against her, down there between her legs, pushing into her harder than before, moving against her in a rhythmic way that left her in no doubt whatsoever of what he intended. She caught her breath in a part-frightened, part-bedazzled gasp as she regained enough reason to understand what he was telling her, what he meant to do to her next unless she forbade him. You should tell him to stop, she thought, but she didn’t, not by word or gesture, because the truth was, she didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to love her, wanted him to keep doing what he was doing until the fever pitch to which he had roused her broke at last.

  “I—know.” She whispered her acquiescence. The hot, honeyed, melting feeling she was experiencing was more potent than any libation could ever be. She was intoxicated with need now, burning up with it, her body no longer her own to command, her mind clouded past the point of reason by the wondrous things he was making her feel. The sad truth was, in the state she was in he could do what he would with her, anything at all, and she would rejoice in the doing. Regrets, which she knew there would be as certainly as she knew there were fish in the sea, were something she would deal with later. If, that is, she survived, and they got out of this terrifying prison, and there was any reason to feel regret about anything.

  But she would not think about that. For now there was only him, and the blazing desire he had so unexpectedly ignited inside her. She would lie with him because she simply did not have the strength to draw back, because her quaking, burning body would not allow her to do anything else, because she hungered for his full possession in a way she had never imagined she could hunger for anything, and, if needed, she would count the cost later.

  Then his mouth found her breast, and any lucidity that had remained to her, any hope of cold, sober caution winning out was lost. He kissed her nipple, caressed it with the scalding he
at of his tongue, then drew it into his mouth with a carnality that made her cry out and arch against him and hold his head to her breast like the loosest of women.

  He favored both breasts with his attention, then finally lifted his head.

  “Not afraid anymore, sweetheart?” His voice was hoarse but his tone was tender as his hand slid with warm surety up the silken skin of her inner thigh. The purposeful caress made her tremble. She knew where he was going, knew where he meant to touch her next, and the prospect drove her wild. Her breasts swelled, begging eagerly for his kisses. Her thighs trembled and fell open with wanting. She could feel his hand on her skin like a brand, moving so slowly, too slowly, toward that part of her that was dying for his touch.

  “Not with you.” From the unevenness of her voice, she realized that her breathing was ragged.

  Most unexpectedly, she heard an unfamiliar sound and realized to her surprise that it was his teeth snapping together. At the same time his hand stilled on its silken path, his fingers tightening suddenly on her thigh so that she could feel the full size and strength of them as they burned into her flesh. For the briefest of moments he didn’t move, but stayed perfectly still, as if he had turned to stone between one instant and the next. The harsh rasping sound she heard was, she realized, his breathing.

  “Neil?” Perplexed, she strained to see him through the darkness.

  As if her voice broke whatever spell had been holding him frozen in place, he swore, horribly, then lifted his hand from her thigh and rolled away from her, just like that, as though she had suddenly broken out in a rash of thorns. Though she gaped in his direction, she might as well have been blind for anything she could see. But she could feel him beside her, mere inches away because the confines of the space they were in would permit nothing more, and got the sense that he was now lying on his back with his arm flung over his eyes. Desire had turned the small space warm, steamy even. The greatcoat on which they lay felt plush as a rug. Tension hummed between them like an invisible, electrifying force. Every instinct she possessed bade her close the scant distance separating them—but she hesitated.

  “Neil?” Instead, she laid a questioning hand on his arm. To her surprise she felt a tremor rack the hard muscle. “Is something wrong?” Her voice turned small and uncertain suddenly, and she hated the way it sounded. Hated the vulnerability she detected in it.

  He pulled his arm free of her touch. “What did you mean, ‘not with you’?”

  “What?” The sense of his words barely registered. Her heart still pounded, her blood still raced, her body still burned. The almost unpalatable truth was that she wanted him to keep on with loving her—though he, apparently, had no such intention.

  “I asked you if you were not afraid of sex anymore, and you said, not with you. I want to know what you meant by that.”

  “Oh.” Remembering her own words, Beth flushed. Praise the Lord he could not see! In fact, that was the only saving grace in the whole situation, she decided. Taking a deep breath, she suddenly became aware that her skirts were twisted around her waist. Her bodice had been pulled down well past her breasts. She was to all intents and purposes naked, lying on her back with her legs sprawled indecently apart and the wetness from his mouth drying on her breasts. As she realized the enormity of what she had let him do, the full scope of the intimacies she had allowed him to take, the heat in her face intensified and spread until she was certain she must be blushing all over. Mortified, she quickly and quietly did what she could to restore herself to decency, then scooted as far away from him as it was possible to get, until she was on her side with her back pressed against the stone slab that blocked them in. She, who had so dreaded physical intimacy that the very thought of having to endure the marriage bed was enough to make her turn sick to her stomach, had almost given herself to this man—this unrepentant criminal. It was unbelievable, but it was true. Disgracefully, her lips still yearned for more kisses, and her body yearned, too, for more kisses and caresses and everything else he had done to her. No, everything they had done together. There was no point in pretending that he had forced her, or that she had been anything less than a willing, nay, eager participant. And the worst part of the whole thing was, she wasn’t even glad he had stopped. Not yet. Not while her heart still pounded and her blood still raced and her body still hungered for his taking.

  “ ‘Oh’ is not an answer.” He sounded testy. They were no longer touching in any way, but she could feel his presence as acutely as if she were plastered against his side. “And I would have one, if you please.”

  “Very well, then. I meant what I said.” The honesty that had always been one of her foremost virtues—or besetting sins, as Twindle would have had it—combined with pride to rise to her rescue, infusing her with a slightly defiant courage. Indeed, she scorned to try to turn what had just happened between them into anything less than the truly momentous revelation it had been. Whatever this most unexpected attraction that had sprung up between them owed its existence to, the fact was that it did exist. Because of that, because she could not rid herself of her fear that they were never going to get out of there, and because even now where she most wanted to be was back in his arms, she would give him the truth with no bark on it, and to the devil with the consequences.

  “Would you care to explain that so it’s a little clearer?”

  “I would have thought it was perfectly clear, but if you need it spelled out for you, then fine: Just as you guessed, I have not cared to be kissed, or”—and here, despite her determination, she stammered slightly—“or handled, by any gentleman. Except, for some reason I am at a loss to explain, I don’t seem to feel that aversion with you.”

  “God in heaven.” Her confession did not seem to please him.

  She frowned, affronted. “You asked me a question, and I answered it. If you didn’t want the truth, you shouldn’t have asked.”

  “I don’t think you quite grasp what almost happened here. A few moments more and I would have had your damned virginity.” Instead of merely testy, he now sounded downright angry. “What you ought to be doing right about now is slapping my face. At the very least.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “WHAT GOOD WOULD THAT DO? Anyway, you did nothing I wasn’t willing for you to do.” With that gruff admission, Beth folded her arms over her chest. “Besides, if we are going to die, whether or not I am a virgin when it happens doesn’t much matter, does it?”

  Neil gave vent to a series of soft but fluent curses. By the time he finished she was glaring at him through the darkness.

  “And what was that in aid of, pray?”

  “We are not going to die, damn it. And you need to understand this: You were willing because I made you willing. I know what pleases women and I knew what would please you and I did those things to you deliberately so that you would let me have my wicked way with you. If you would know the truth, I’ve been contemplating seducing you almost since I first set eyes on you.”

  “Then why did you stop?”

  There was a pause.

  “Because I have a shred of decency left to me, it seems. And you should thank your lucky stars I do. Otherwise you would now be my mistress, and utterly and completely ruined.”

  “If we survive, I am probably ruined anyway. I doubt my credit will survive this.”

  “Am I to understand from that that I need have no scruples?” he asked sardonically.

  “None at all.”

  Dead silence greeted that.

  “You, my girl, are a menace.” She got the impression that now he was speaking through his teeth. “Fortunately for you, I’ve discovered a most unexpected aversion to deflowering virgins, however bloody-minded they may be.”

  “Are you calling me bloody-minded—” Beth broke off as the sense of what she had just heard penetrated. “Wait, are you saying you’ve never, ah, um”—the unaccustomed frankness of the conversation caused her to stutter again, to her annoyance—“deflowered a virgin?”

&
nbsp; “What I have or have not done in that area is nothing I mean to discuss with you.”

  “You haven’t, have you?”

  “Damn it, Beth, leave it. The subject is closed.”

  By now her heart had slowed to something approximating its normal rhythm, and her blood flowed through her veins more or less as it was wont to do. The carnal desire he had most astoundingly roused in her was easing, and she had little doubt that if nothing more occurred to feed it, it would soon fade to a delicious memory. But what she would carry with her always, for however long or short always was, was the knowledge that she could feel that way, that she could contemplate the marital act with delight rather than dread, that rousing a man’s lust meant experiencing it along with him rather than subjecting herself to it.