Ticket to Temptation

by Lilith Darville

  Heat swept through me igniting the smoldering flame left from the interlude with Daniel the previous evening. What if he’d kissed me? I wish he had. What if I’d kissed him first? Brazen hussy. Yeah, right, like I’d do something like that. Not in this lifetime anyway. Anything’s possible, Logan. I couldn’t believe the thoughts running through my mind. There was something about this house that did indeed live up to its reputation, Temptation House.

  I sighed and rolled toward the window. It was almost as dark as it had been the night before. The storm howled and the sharp crack of branches breaking only added to my sense of foreboding. Truth be told, it was probably anticipation, but I couldn’t let my mind go there. Maybe I could have been that woman twenty years ago. Now, I wasn’t sure I knew how to step outside of the prissy society wife I’d become.

  Certain I’d heard a light tap at the door, I climbed down the two steps beside the high poster bed. Daniel stood in the hall with damp hair, clad in those darned lounging pants and a housecoat that hung open showing off those splendid pectorals. He held out a steaming cup of coffee—cream and a dollop of honey, just the way I liked it. How the hell could he know that? I took a sip, gratefully.

  “Thank you. That’s just perfect.” I padded back to the bed and climbed back in to escape the chill of the wood floor. “Come on in. What time is it?”

  “Almost noon.” He perched on the edge of the bed and took a sip of his coffee—double-double if I recalled.

  Why do I remember that?

  “Did you sleep well?” Daniel’s smoldering blue eyes swept over me, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to pull the covers up over my breasts or expose them. I was going to have to do something about all these smutty thoughts invading my mind. And there he sat acting as if nothing at all happened between us.

  “Like a baby. Did you?”

  “Like a baby.” He took another sip of his coffee. “I brought your bags in. It looks like we won’t be going anywhere today.”

  “Oh my God, you went out in that storm? Why?”

  “I thought you’d be more comfortable if you had your stuff. I couldn’t get the suitcase in the back, but I got your purse and the other bag on the front seat.”

  “Thank you.” I had to stop myself from leaping to hug him, something entirely unlike me. “How thoughtful. Is that why your hair is wet? You must have gotten soaked.” A full flush crept through me as I realized what I’d just said.

  He looked at me as if seeing right through me, a small smile playing on those full lips. “Yes, it’s a bit wet out there. I’d say the hurricane they threatened hit full force.”

  “So, what should we do?”

  “Do?” His left eyebrow arched.

  I could see the twinkle in his eyes. Deep pink morphed to deep red. I had trouble not fanning myself, the heat was so intense. I didn’t know how to play the game of flirting. It’s not like I’d ever had the chance.

  “I tell you what. Unless you’ve got something better to do, you can help me,” Daniel said.

  “Help you what?”

  “Sort the diaries into categories. Anais, was quite prolific. There are at least thirty diaries to go through.”

  Intrigued, I leaned forward. “And how can I help?”

  “You can help sort them by category. Some seem to be a historical recounting, some are her sexual journey, and some appear to be some BDSM how-to journal of sorts. Who knows, you may get some ideas for your next novel.”

  My heart quickened. I held my breath, willing myself not to show my excitement. I had no idea what had gotten hold of me. It has to be the house. The house challenged me; leading me to a different time, a different place. Suddenly I yearned to feel, yearned to explore, yearned to explode. Everything about his presence told me Daniel was just the one to make this happen. Insanity!

  I cleared my throat and gulped the now cooling coffee.

  “Sure, I can do that. When did you want to start?”

  “I’ll go get some lunch started. We’ll eat, and then we’ll dig in. Sound like a plan?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I squeaked out.

  I donned the bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. I opened my overnight bag and gulped down a birth control pill. Thank goodness chivalry wasn’t entirely dead. I shivered realizing I’d need to find something to wear. The closet door opened to a magnificent room stuffed with elegant dresses, gowns, and every manner of fancy lingerie I could think of. None of it looked like something a peasant would wear. All of it looked like it hailed from the early 1930s. I’d always imagined playing dress up, and here was my chance.

  I chose a lacy white blouse and a navy-blue cocktail length skirt and slipped them on over the silk chemise and bloomers. They fit as if they were tailored for me. I pulled on a pair of embroidered black kid pumps with a Louis heel. To complete the look, I pulled my hair into a loose knot at the top of my head. Feeling every bit the lady of the manor, I joined Daniel in the kitchen. He traded the housecoat for a knit shirt that hugged every chorded muscle.

  He only hesitated for a moment when I walked in, but I knew he liked what he saw. With Daniel, I had the feeling he was looking at me even when he didn’t appear to be. Judy had always said you know when a man likes you, wants you, and I’d always thought she was crazy. Until now. My nipples hardened, and another flush rose from the depths.

  Suddenly self-conscious, I swished my skirts to hide my embarrassment and stepped to the table. Daniel had set two places at the round breakfast table complete with linen napkins, china, and crystal. He placed a platter of eggs, bacon, and sausages and a basket of biscuits in front of me with a slight bow. “Madam.”

  I laughed with delight. As much as I wanted to keep him at arm’s length, I had to admit he certainly was charming. The pit was yawning wide open in front of me, and here I was preparing to jump in with both breasts bared. I reminded myself to put the brakes on…and then he smiled that smile, the one that showed a glimpse of that slightly chipped tooth that enhanced the strength of his face. And I smiled back. Okay, let’s get real, I not only smiled, my entire face grinned back at him.

  He had set two places side-by-side, so there he was just a little too close for comfort. And there I was feeling a little too warm for comfort. He reached over and tucked a loose strand behind my ear. I wish he’d stop doing that. I held my breath. Time stopped for a beat. Then he sighed and gestured toward the food. “Dig in while it’s hot.”

  “Did you really read Raven’s Torment?”

  “Yup, I’ve read them all.” He seemed unfazed by the whiplash-causing change of subject.

  “Why?” I couldn’t get my head around why a man, this man, would read romance books, never mind my romance novels.

  “Why not? I was intrigued by the whispers about your smut going around the office, so I decided to read one. I liked what I read, so I read more. I like a woman who’s comfortable with her sexuality.”

  Let me know when you meet one.

  The fire was already well stoked when we settled into the library, coffee in hand. Daniel set a tray, the tray, complete with a full coffee service on a nearby sideboard and gestured to a pile of books.

  “So where do we start?” I asked.

  “You can help me sort and catalog Anais’s diaries. I took a quick look through them yesterday.” He pointed to two piles sitting on the large oak coffee table in front of a velvet sofa. “The pile on the left is for the ones with historical background. I’ve put the ones about her sexual exploits right here.”

  I took a stack of journals and settled into an armchair near the fire. Daniel chose to work at the large rosewood desk set in the bay window. The desk looked like it was made for him, big, sleek, hard, warm, and full of interesting cubbies to explore. For a few solid hours or so, there was only the rustling of turning pages accenting the crackle of the blazing fire.

  “This is interesting. Look at this. I found my parents.”

  The excitement in Daniel’s voice led me to him like firebugs spiraling
to a flame. I leaned on his shoulder and looked at the family tree where his finger rested beside the name Edward William Carrington. My eyes slid down the connecting lines to a box framing another name…Daniel William Blackstone Masterson. Oh boy.

  “So that’s who he is.”

  Daniel turned his head, his steady gaze finding my eyes, lips inches from mine. I stopped breathing.

  “Who who is?”

  I let out a small puff of breath trying to wrench my mind from the heat coming from his shoulder. The heat radiating up my arm, curling through my core settling in an electric spiral in all my little pink parts.

  “The Edward she’s writing about. He’s your great-great-grandfather.”

  Eagerness leaped into Daniel’s eyes. “You found something about him. Let’s see.” He started to get up. I pressed him back down.

  “What?” A small frown creased his brow.

  “I should warn you it’s not what you think. You might not want to read it.”

  “Logan, you’ll have to be a little clearer than that.”

  “It—it’s a sex diary about Edward.”

  “Really.” Daniel’s eyes lit up as he stood. “Let’s see.”

  I rested the journal on his chest, both hands gripping it. “Um, um, it’s graphic. I’m not sure you want to read this stuff about your relatives.”

  He looked down at me quizzically. “Why ever not?”

  I blushed crimson. “Because, you know, it’s their sex life. You don’t want to think about them like that. It’s like, you know, yuck.”

  “I don’t personalize things like that. That’s your hang-up, not mine.”

  Hang up. The heat rose in my face, and I wished, not for the first time, that I didn’t blush so very easily. “You might prefer to read them alone.” I know I would.

  Again that quizzical look. Daniel plucked the book.

  “There’s no mention of an Edward in the journals I’ve read so far. What year was that entry written in?”

  “Nineteen twelve. So these journals start where mine left off.” I flipped to the next page and read aloud.

  “…and then I met Edward Carrington. What a magnificent specimen of a man. All broad shoulders, thin hips, and a prick of such magnificence it made even a tart like me blush. A gentleman of refined tastes, he made it clear quite quickly he had different appetites in the bedroom. He had no use for my virtue…”

  “This Edward sounds like a real racey guy,” he said. “I do love this old language.”

  “…he spread me on the settee, threw up my skirts, and inhaled the delicate aroma he loved so much. Then, he made me frig myself for his enjoyment and mine. My qwim drenched with longing. I set to work with my fingers, plunging them in and out of my cunt. Just the way he liked it. I was eager to have him bogg me but knew he wouldn’t relent until I climaxed. I raced on to the finish.”

  Daniel leafed through stopping here and there to read another passage. I dissolved into a coil of tension, not unlike a tiger about to spring on its prey. I sprang up and away. Daniel looked up, startled.

  “Something wrong?”

  “No, no. Nothing. Um, I thought I’d get dinner ready.”

  The light changed in his eyes, and only a mischievous twinkle described what I saw. He knew, and he was playing me. He knew I was so excited I’d wet through the bloomers. He could probably smell it. Damn it. I fled to the kitchen.

  I busied myself with bustling around. He followed a few minutes later, and I morphed into what I did best and played society wife to his kitchen helper needing instruction. He followed my orders to the letter without comment. But the quirky little smile that occasionally drifted into a toothy grin never left his face.

  While I cooked, I drank wine from a glass that seemed perpetually full. While we ate, I drank more. While Daniel cleaned up the dishes, I drank even more. I had no idea what had gotten into me, but I wasn’t going to think about it. I fled to the library to pull myself together.

  Minutes later, Daniel strolled in, wine bottle and glass in hand, and joined me on the sofa. Daniel, sitting beside me, smelling like Irish spring rain, all fresh and clean with a hint of musk. He leaned forward. The candlelight glittered off his heavy crystal glass. I itched to run my fingers through the fine blond hair covering the curve of well-defined forearms.

  “I’m surprised a woman as experienced as you are would be so, so shy about sex.”

  “You mean prudish, right?” I barked out a laugh. “Well, you aren’t the first person to call me that. Greg’s happy to remind me about it at least once a week. I don’t think I’m a prude. I don’t think I’m the problem at all. And what makes you think I’m so experienced anyway?”

  I braved a look at Daniel and almost ran into those luscious lips. Oh God, what I wouldn’t give to kiss that mouth. I sank my teeth into my lower lip to solve that problem.

  “Greg isn’t all men, and I think you’re so experienced because of the way you write your erotic scenes. Surely only a woman of certain skills could write with such mastery.” He used the pad of his thumb to release my poor captive lower lip. He moved an inch closer. The whisper of his breath stole mine away.

  “Do you think all mystery writers have committed murder?” Touché for me.

  “Point taken.” He leaned back a little and lifted my chin until my eyes met his. “Have you ever been made love to? Has a man ever shown you how very lovely you are? How perfect you are?”

  He looked up at me and waited. My chest was heaving…seriously, heaving. He quirked that left eyebrow. I cleared my throat.

  “No. Like I told you, that stuff only happens in books.”

  He stood up and pulled me to my feet, up close and personal. I could feel the sexual tension radiating from his body. His gaze penetrated through to my soul, and I couldn’t look away.

  “I think you’re wrong, and it’s time you knew that.”

  Chapter 12

  Daniel

  I took her hand and led her to the bedroom. She didn’t resist, although I could feel a slight hesitation as each step brought us closer to the bedroom door. I held her eyes with mine like an invisible lifeline keeping us from drifting apart. The toasty warmth of the fireplace matched the heat of the moment as I opened the door. For years I’d hidden my forbidden dream of exploring Logan’s luscious body. My hands trembled in anticipation.

  I put a hand on each side of her face and drew her to me. I traced the high cheekbones with the tips of my fingers marveling at the exotic cast to her features that made her more than a classic beauty. The eyes were just that little bit too far apart, the brows just a millimeter too thick, the lips just a little too wide. Such slight discrepancies gave her a unique and beautiful perfection that I couldn’t deny. Oh, and what magnificent lips they were, like plump cherries just waiting to be sucked into my mouth. Finally, her mouth was mine to examine.

  Her eyes clamped shut, and she trembled like a startled rabbit frozen with fear. I set about to change that fear into anticipation and eagerness. I brushed her lips with mine, savoring the warmth. A hint of wine and chocolate mingled with the scent of her perfume, intoxicating my senses. I brushed, and licked, and kissed, keeping my touch light until she responded in kind. Soon, she clutched my head in both hands, drawing me even closer. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

  When her lips parted, I let my tongue touch the tip of hers ever so gently, alternating with continued exploration of her lips. By this time, the heat in my cock had built to an inferno. Slow down, Daniel, don’t blow this. I chastised myself for not having the foresight to relieve the sexual tension that had built up over the past year. That’s right, it had been almost a year since I’d fucked a woman. I say fucked because that’s exactly what I’d done with most women. It was self-serving and raw with an unbridled sexual desire that left me wanting more. With Logan, I had found what I was looking for. My whole body ached with the need for her to want me as much as I wanted her. Wanting her was not about love. Love left me too vulnerable an
d was something I had walked away from long ago.

  A small moan escaped Logan. Her tongue moved against mine, seeking, exploring. Another small victory. I answered each probe with one of my own, slowly at first, waiting for her response to match mine. Soon her eagerness outstripped mine, like a woman given her first taste of a forbidden treat. She threw her arms around my shoulders and pressed those full breasts into my chest. By now I had a rock-solid hard-on.

  I stepped back and held her at arm’s length. Her eyes flew open in alarm. She stood, panting.

  “What’s wrong? Why’d you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

  I winced at the panic. Who had done this to her?

  “Shhhh.” I placed a finger on her lips. “Nothing’s wrong. I want to look at you.” I put my arms around her shoulders and walked her to the full-length mirror hanging on the closet door. Stepping behind her, I started to undo the buttons on the lacy white blouse. She stood quietly, watching me through the mirror, arms crossed over her chest. I slipped the blouse over her shoulders and let it rest on her elbows.

  “You’re going to have to let the girls go if I’m going to get this top off.”

  “Oh, yes.” She laughed nervously. “I guess so.”

  She dropped her arms to her side, and the blouse dropped to the floor. Studying her reflection closely, I reached around and undid the buttons running down the front of the chemise. It draped open, exposing the inner slopes of her majestic tits, more than any one man should be blessed enough to fondle. My mouth almost watered with my need to take them in my mouth, to suckle the small brown nipples until she moaned. She tensed as I ran my index finger under the swell of each breast. I stilled, watching, waiting, fingers firmly in place.

  “You don’t have to. I know they’re too big.” She cast her eyes down.

  That would just not do. What on earth had made her so self-conscious about her body?