“I don’t care!” She laughed, and the lilting softness fell through him like a warm summer rain. She held out her hand to him, and he stepped forward to take it, letting her draw him to her. “I don’t want to think about the will, or marriage, or the estate…” Her breath tickled warm and sweet against his cheek as she leaned against him and brushed her lips tantalizingly along his jaw. “And I don’t want to be at the party a moment more.”
Even as his heart raced with desire, he took her arms and set her away. He had to make certain—“What do you want, Annabelle?”
“You.”
His cock stiffened instantly at the breathless whisper, spoken so softly that he barely heard it. He stared down at her delicate face in the shadows, fearing that she truly was nothing more than a fantasy after all.
“When you took the waltz, you said you wanted one last dance.” She stepped forward, bringing her body against his, her arms entwining around his neck. “But I want more than that.” Her fingers played in his hair, and each innocent caress sent a jolt of aching need shivering through him. “I’m yours for the night…if you want me.”
CHAPTER TEN
Belle held her breath as her trembling fingertips combed nervously through his silky hair, waiting for him to say something…anything. But he didn’t, and in his silence, each beat of her heart pounded like a drum, so loud she was certain he could hear it.
Yet she couldn’t help herself. She knew she’d made the right decision not to marry, no matter how fearful the prospect of leaving her home. Just as she knew it was right and good to be here with Quinton. There would be no wedding night for her, no marriage bed—there would be only tonight, and she wanted to share it with Quinton. Every inch of her, full heart and soul, begged for exactly that.
Yet what she wanted was more than just the physical touches her body craved. She wanted the comfort she knew Quinn could bring her, his strength and reassurances, his resolve never to surrender even when she herself had given up. She wanted him. All of him, right down to that charming grin. If only for tonight.
When he didn’t answer, her fingertips stilled. She stared up at him, confused. “I thought…”
“You thought what?” he pressed, puzzling her further. Instead of the desire she expected to see on his face, a mask carefully hid his thoughts.
Not at all what she’d expected. “Apologies.” Her cheeks heated with humiliation. And confusion. But she’d seen his desire with her own eyes! How could she have been so wrong? “Apparently, I was mistaken.”
When she moved to step away, his hands slid down her arms and pulled her against him, stopping her. “You thought what, Annabelle?” he murmured, each breath tickling hotly against her lips.
She shivered, drinking in the heat and strength of him. “That you wanted me,” she breathed. “Do you?”
Sliding an arm around her waist to keep her hips pressed against his, he cupped her face against his palm and brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. Each little caress spun an electric tingle through her. “Very much.”
She gasped as his fingers trailed down her neck to touch her racing pulse in the hollow at the base of her throat. His lips curled into a pleased smile. The most confusing man, and the most thrilling she’d ever met. More—he was protection and security. And when he touched her, he felt like…home.
His fingers paused in their downward caress at the neckline of her dress. So close but not yet touching the swells of her breasts now rising and falling rapidly as she fought to keep both her breath and her wits. He brushed his lips against her ear. “But do you want me?”
Heavens yes. She trailed her fingertips across his cheek, wanting tonight with him more than she’d wanted anything in her life. Perhaps as much as she wanted Glenarvon. He was leaving, she was staying…and tonight she simply didn’t care about the future. All that mattered was being as close to him as possible, both body and soul. She would worry about the morning when it came.
His eyes shined brightly in the darkness. “Do you, Annabelle?”
If he only knew what she really felt for him! She gave a throaty laugh, only for the sound to catch in her throat when he captured her breast against his palm, cupping her fullness in a gesture so possessive that she shuddered from the intensity of it.
His fingers teased lightly at her nipple through the silk of her gown, and a wisp of pleasure drifted through her. Her breasts grew heavy and warm, and she leaned harder against him, begging him with her body to give her more.
“Well…to be honest,” she panted out beneath the wonderful sensation of her nipple pebbling against his palm, “you were…my second choice.”
His hand stilled. “Oh?”
That was definitely jealousy! And her heart soared with it. “But Angus Burns was busy, so—”
“Bluestocking,” he growled as he captured her lips beneath his to give her a blistering kiss whose hunger stole her breath away.
She clung to him as he ravished her mouth and left her craving more. Even now, pressed against him with her arms wrapped around his neck and the heat of his body soaking into hers, she still wasn’t close enough.
A soft moan of need rose from her lips. “I want you, Quinton,” she murmured as he drank in her words. I love you…Not a single doubt existed inside her about giving herself to him tonight.
Still kissing her, he carefully maneuvered her backward, and she went willingly. All of her prickled with pins and needles of nervous anticipation, but oh, how much she wanted this! When he lowered his head to kiss her again, her body arched against his with a whimper of willing capitulation.
He released her from his arms only long enough to strip out of his jacket. As she watched him, her stomach somersaulted with pure nervousness. He was undressing. If what she wanted to share with him tonight happened, then of course—but heavens, he was undressing! She trembled with trepidation…
Until he draped the jacket over the waist-high stones behind her.
She blinked, puzzled. “Why did you do that?”
He grinned. “So I can do this.”
His hands encircled her waist and lifted her easily off the ground, to set her on top the low wall. Then he planted his hands against the stones on both sides of her and leaned in for a kiss. Slow, intense, and of single purpose…to make clear how much he wanted her. The kiss grew until she panted breathlessly against him, until her thighs clenched to quell the throbbing heat at her core that threatened to consume her.
She clung helplessly to him as his mouth swept along her jaw to her ear. Every touch of his lips to her body only increased the longing she felt for him. He nibbled teasingly at her earlobe before drawing it between his lips and sucking, before the tip of his tongue circled the outer curl of her ear—
His tongue swirled inside her ear, and she gasped.
“Beautiful Belle,” he murmured, plunging his tongue inside once more and rewarding her with a shivering, aching shudder. “Finally mine.”
She dug her fingers into the hard muscles of his shoulders to keep from falling away, even with the solid rock beneath her. The world whirled around her, and her only anchor was Quinn. And oh, what an anchor! Even now his hard muscles rippled beneath her fingertips, his body solid and broad. Nervousness flooded through her at the thought of what that very large, solid, and broad body was going do with hers tonight.
“Quinn.” Her voice emerged as a tremulous whisper. “I don’t know…what to do.”
“Don’t worry,” he murmured teasingly against her throat as his lips kissed lower. “I do.”
“Quinton!” She smacked her palm against his shoulder to get his attention, then repeated softly with a bit of embarrassment, “I don’t know what to do.”
He lifted his mouth from her neck and cupped her face delicately in his hands. In the shadows, his face was solemn. “Nervous, Belle?”
She nodded. At her silent acknowledgment, he tenderly touched his lips to hers.
“If it helps,” he admitted, “I’m nervous, too.”<
br />
That did help…but not much. Compared to those experienced ladies in London, he must think her a boring, backward dolt.
He brushed his thumb slowly back and forth across her bottom lip in a caress that was more soothing than seductive, yet still left her craving more. “I’ll teach you, all right?”
She nodded jerkily, feeling like a wanton for wanting exactly that—for Quinn to instruct her in all the arts of intimacy, so she could bring him the same pleasures he brought to her.
“It’s simple,” he assured her. “There’s only one rule.”
Rules? Dear God, there were rules to this? A new panic sprung up inside her, and she felt like an utter cake as she asked, “Which is?”
“You can do anything you want. If it feels good to you, do it. And if it feels good to me…” He grinned. “Do it twice.”
She laughed, and the nervousness ebbed from her, replaced by a happy anticipation that tickled at her toes. Only Quinn could make her laugh at such an important moment in her life. And her heart sang because of him.
His grin faded as he stroked his knuckles across her cheek. “You’ll be ruined.”
That no longer mattered. She’d come to her decision. Tonight would be the first and only time she would ever give herself to a man.
Leaning forward, her mouth captured his as she tried to convey all of that to him. She poured every ounce of her aching heart and soul into that kiss, singular in its importance and in the overwhelming love she felt for him.
Tender and sweet, with the tantalizing promise of more, his lips caressed hers in equal measure of both demanding and coaxing for her to deepen the kiss. So she did exactly that, slipping her tongue tentatively between his lips to explore the spicy depths of his mouth and stroke her tongue along his, the same way he’d done to her.
He groaned. His arms clasped around her as he thrust his tongue between her lips in a rapid series of plunges and retreats that left her breathless and aching.
Oh, how much his kisses had changed from six years ago! There was none of the fumbling of before; now there were only smooth, masculine movements that savored at the same time that they intensified with growing arousal. While the eagerness was still there, now pulsing electrically through both of them, it had been tempered by time into a tantalizingly seductive control.
And a very wicked part of her wanted to make his control snap.
He’d urged her to do whatever felt good, so…“I think this would feel good,” she whispered as her hands slid down his chest to unbutton his waistcoat.
“It does,” he assured her between gentle nips of his teeth at her throat.
She laughed. “I meant for me!”
And it did. The brocade was soft and smooth beneath her fingertips as she pushed it open and down over his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. She trembled at the boldness of what she was doing. A secret thrill pulsed through her and landed deliciously between her thighs. Still, she wanted more.
“This, too,” she whispered, then did the same with his cravat, untying the long cloth of white silk and dropping it away.
She hesitated then, not knowing what to do next.
Sensing her uncertainty, he slid his hands up her back, where his clever fingers made quick work of unfastening her dress. The loose bodice sagged low over her breasts, and with a gasp, she crossed her arms over her chest, catching it before it fell away completely. She wasn’t wearing anything beneath the silk gown except for stockings, the tightly fitted bodice making both shift and stays unnecessary. A hot blush flushed her face as she realized what he must think of her, that she must be a wanton to dare to dress so boldly.
But when his hands slipped beneath the silk and caressed warmly over her bare back, all embarrassment fled, and she gained a new appreciation for her dressmaker.
“Does that feel good?” he whispered, brushing his mouth back and forth across her bare shoulder.
“Yes,” she admitted. Oh, a great deal!
She slowly relaxed and released her clamping hold over the bodice. And that—oh, that was the exact right thing to do, because his hands at her back slipped around to her front, somehow nudging the bodice down while simultaneously stroking in featherlight touches across the bare skin beneath. When his hands captured her breasts, she shrugged her shoulders and the bodice slipped down her arms and fell away, baring her from the waist up.
She closed her eyes, not in embarrassment but because the cool air on her hot skin felt so heavenly. So did the way his work-roughened palms gently kneaded her bare breasts, how her nipples puckered impossibly tighter beneath his flicking thumbs. She moaned deeply at the throbbing he flamed inside her. Her breasts grew heavy against his hands, and the ache at her nipples pulled straight through her to the moist heat gathering between her legs.
“Dear God, Annabelle,” he rasped out. “You are so beautiful.”
His lips closed around her right nipple. She gasped at the exquisite sensation of his mouth suckling at her, at the bold way he tongued her. He released her nipple and drew back just far enough to blow a stream of cold air against her moist skin.
“Quinton!” She jumped at the sharp sensation, then moaned in sheer pleasure as his hot mouth once again closed over her, heating away the cold until she melted against him like butter. “You are…wicked,” she panted out, digging her fingers into his thick hair.
She laughed when he looked up at her and grinned impishly before moving his mouth to her other breast to start the sweet torture anew. “Very much so,” he mumbled against her bare skin.
A thrill shivered through at the delicious hope that he’d show her exactly how wicked he could be. Because if what he did to her was wicked, then it was also so very, very good.
“I think,” she whispered as she licked her lips and bit back a soft moan as he worried her nipple between his teeth, as if deciding whether to devour her slowly or gulp her down all at once, “that I know what else might feel good.”
Her fingers slipped down to his sides, pulled the lawn shirt free from his trousers, and let it hang loose around his hips. Then she slipped her hand under his shirt to touch the warm skin beneath.
“It does feel good,” she confirmed as her fingers fluttered across the ridges of his abdomen to his hard chest. Everywhere she touched, his muscles rippled beneath her fingertips. Like magic.
Her hesitant explorations grew bolder, her hands stroking higher and higher across his chest until her fingers traced over his hard male nipples. He flinched beneath the flick of her fingertips.
With a happy laugh, Belle pushed him back far enough to lift the shirt up over his head and toss it away.
“It’s only fair,” she challenged. After all, her own breasts were exposed both to the cool night and to his hot stare.
His muscular chest was bare to her now. She leaned forward to take one of his nipples between her lips and suck shamelessly, the same way he’d done to her. He inhaled sharply when she nipped lightly at him, then she soothed away the pleasure-pain with feathery kisses until he groaned.
“I know what else might feel good,” she whispered against his chest, then licked her way up to his throat as her hands moved lower, following the trail of golden hair down his stomach to his waistband.
“Annabelle,” he whispered hoarsely, her name uttered in both warning and desire as her trembling hand cupped his bulging manhood through his trousers.
She laughed again, this time in wonder at the hardness of him against her fingers, the heavy weight of him resting against her palm. Then, somehow, he seemed to grow impossibly harder and larger as she caressed him.
Closing his eyes, he hung his head as his shoulders slumped, reminding her of a giant cat welcoming her petting strokes. From the blissful expression on his face, she almost expected him to purr. But this man was a tiger, and he starkly reminded her of that as he shifted his hips to press himself harder into her hand.
Without stopping her caresses, she kissed him, outlining his lips with the tip of her
tongue. “Do you like that?”
With a low growl, he reached between them, flicked open his fall, and shoved her hand down inside his trousers.
She froze. His bare length rested against her palm, and his hand encircled her wrist to keep her from pulling away. Her heart pounded furiously in her ears. Had she gone too far? Had she done something that—
“Do it twice,” he panted out.
Her heart somersaulted. He liked what she was doing to him! And if it felt half as good to him to be touched like this as it had to her, then she knew he wanted it. Desperately.
Her hand folded around him, cupping him the same way she had through the trousers, but this time, no barrier prevented her from stroking the soft skin covering the steely hardness beneath. Her strokes became increasingly bolder, more confident as appreciative groans and growls escaped from the back of his throat, until she drew him free of the constricting material and he sprang straight against her palm.
She stilled. So large and thick, so long and hard—her stomach knotted. Suddenly their play had turned serious.
“Annabelle.”
Her gaze lifted to his, and she lost her breath.
His eyes stared hungrily down at her and made her shiver beneath their dark heat. This was what it was like to be with Quinton all the time, she realized, not just in his arms but every moment—a fierce oncoming storm, filled with an intensity that left her breathless.
Slowly, he slipped a hand down between them and covered her fingers with his own, then guided her in a slow, smooth stroke along his length to show her how to give him the pleasure he craved. He was patiently instructing her, just as he’d promised, and she blinked at the unexpected tears forming on her lashes.
With his free hand, he reached up to cup her face and reassuringly touched his lips to hers in a kiss so light that it was barely a kiss at all.
When the Scoundrel Sins Page 21