Two Sinful Secrets

by Laurel McKee

  Dominic scraped the edge of his teeth gently along her skin, making her shiver again, before he pressed an open-mouthed kiss on her skin just where her sleeve fell from her shoulder. His hand flattened against her waist and slid down over her abdomen, lower and lower, gathering up the heavy folds of her skirt as he went. Sophia sighed and let her head fall back on his shoulder.

  He caught her lacy petticoats up with the skirt, and she felt the heat of his touch through the thin silk of her drawers. One fingertip traced her damp slit over the fabric, and she heard him groan when he felt how wet she was there.

  Sophia spun around in his arms and stared up into his eyes. His face was chiseled and half-shadowed in the faint light that poured from the cracks in the wall. His eyes glittered with passion, and his lips curved in a wry half-smile as he looked down at her.

  She traced a light touch slowly up the front of linen shirt and felt the hard heat of his body under the soft fabric. Unable to stop herself, she slipped the pearl buttons free and slid her hand inside to trace his naked skin. She loved the way he felt, so strong and warm. So very alive, the most alive person she had ever known.

  And he made her feel alive, too, after she had felt cold and numb for so long. After she had shut off her emotions just in order to survive. That feeling was more intoxicating than any wine could be.

  She felt his stomach muscles tighten as her hand slid lower and lower. The tips of her fingers brushed the band of his trousers, and she felt his erection harden even more.

  “Sophia…” he said tightly, but he didn’t move. He just watched her closely with those jewel-like eyes.

  Sophia smiled. She liked having Dominic under her touch, under her control, even as she knew it was only an illusion. She knew that he surely never gave up his power to anyone. She slid her palms up over his chest and pushed the coat back from his shoulders. He shrugged it off and let it fall to the floor, still watching as she untied his cravat and wound the length of fabric around her hand.

  He unfastened his trousers and pushed them down, and suddenly he stood before her naked in the shadows. He was so handsome it was almost unreal, Sophia thought in a daze as she traced a soft caress over his shoulders, down his arms, her fingertips fluttering over the lean planes of his chest. Suddenly nothing else mattered but touching him, feeling him. Forgetting everything else.

  But even as she let herself dive deeper into that swirling pool of desire, she knew how very dangerous this could all be. A woman in her position, so uncertain and alone, couldn’t afford to forget. Look where letting her passions rule had taken her before—married to the wrong person and at the mercy of unscrupulous men like Lord Hammond. Yet somehow today felt like one small, too-brief moment out of time. Just for this moment she could be herself, with Dominic. The man she wanted like no one else she had ever met.

  And he seemed to sense what she needed. His breath was harsh, his jaw tight, but he stood still and let her explore.

  She closed her eyes and leaned closer to him. Every breath she took was filled with the scent of him and seemed to draw him into her even more. She pressed her parted lips to his bare chest and tasted the warm, damp salt of his skin. She could feel his heartbeat against her, fast and frantic, echoing her own. She let the tip of her tongue swirl around his flat nipple.

  She had never been able to explore a man’s body like this. With Jack there had always been a quick explosion of passion then a swift fall. It was—fascinating. She curled her arms around him and traced her palms down his spine to pull him closer. Her hands moved down, slowly, teasingly, until she traced her fingers over his ass. He was so hard and tight, and she moaned against him.

  And with that his iron control shattered. “Sophia,” he groaned, and his hands closed around her waist to lift her up against him. Sophia laughed as he carried her across the room to tumble her back onto the pile of old blankets behind the cabinet. He kissed her, hard and hot and wet, full of raw, burning need. She arched her hips up into his, and she felt his tongue slide into her mouth. The blurry haze of sexual need closed in around her, and she held on to him tight as she fell down into it.

  What was it about this man that made her feel this way? She didn’t know, and at the moment, she didn’t care. That recklessness was taking over again.

  “Sophia.” His mouth slid lower along her jaw, her shoulder, to linger on that sensitive spot on her neck. When she sighed and let her head fall back, he reached up to curl his fingers around the satin edge of her bodice and tugged it down. He nudged aside the lace of her corset and bared her breast to his avid, bright green gaze. In the faint light she could see that her nipple was already erect, dark pink, and aching for his kiss.

  “You are so beautiful,” he whispered darkly. “An enchantress.” He traced the tip of his tongue along the soft underside of her breast, teasing her.

  Sophia reached up to tangle her fingers in the rough silk of his hair and held him against her. Finally, as she murmured wordless entreaties, he gave her what she begged for and took her nipple deep into his mouth. As his tongue swirled around it, his fingers caressed her other breast, gently, expertly. He rolled and plucked at the nipple until she cried out his name.

  His mouth traced a ribbon of kisses on the soft skin between her breasts, and Sophia reached out blindly between their bodies. His cock sprang into her hand, hard, hot, the veins throbbing under her touch, and she felt a surge of triumph that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  She ran a slow, caressing touch up the full length of his manhood, then pressed closer as he moaned. He pulled her skirts higher, and there was a sudden, short ripping sound as he tore the delicate silk trousers out of his way. His finger lightly traced her slit before sliding deep inside her. The rough friction of his touch against the soft wetness made her cry out. Her back arched up from the quilts and her eyes closed as the feelings washed over her.

  His thumb rubbed hard against that tiny, hidden spot up high inside her, and it felt as if white-hot sparks raced through her.

  “Sophia,” he whispered against her neck as he kissed her there again and again. “Tell me you want me.”

  For an instant, she thought there was a strange, yearning note in his deep voice, but when she opened her eyes to look up at him, his face was drawn taut into inscrutable, unreadable lines.

  “I—I want you,” she gasped. And she did want him, in the most fundamental way a woman could want a man. She wanted his touch on her skin, his body inside hers. But there was more she wanted, longings she didn’t even understand. Things she didn’t want to understand.

  Dominic nodded, and his hand slid down her body to press her legs open. Then with a sharp twist of his hips, he thrust deeply into her.

  Sophia gasped at the sensation of being joined with him. She wrapped her legs tighter around him and let the fire of pleasure close in around her. Pleasure only he could bring. She held on to him as he drew back and lunged forward again and again, deeper, harder, pounding into her. The scent and burning heat of him surrounded her and she moved with him instinctively, seeking her own pleasure. Their bodies and their breath were like one.

  The sparkling, tingling pressure built and built deep inside her, growing and expanding like the night sky until it exploded in a shower of white-hot stars.

  “Dominic!” she cried, clinging to him as if he was the only rescue left in a drowning world.

  He threw his head back, his whole body taut above her as he found his climax. “Sophia,” he shouted, and then slowly collapsed beside her on the blankets, his shoulders shaking, his skin damp as it slid over hers. His breath sounded harsh in the sudden silence, and Sophia feared she couldn’t breathe either. She closed her eyes to try and hold on to the feelings as long as she could.

  “Sophia,” Dominic whispered, and she felt him shift against her to rest his head on her midriff, just below her bare breasts. His tousled hair brushed softly against her skin, and she reached down to thread her fingers through it.

  A strange kind
of peace flowed through her as she lay there with Dominic, and at first she was confused. What was that feeling? She had never known such a moment of warmth and contentment, as if that was exactly where she was meant to be. The restlessness that always seemed to drive her onward was gone. She felt him press a soft kiss against her skin, and she smiled.

  But that rare, shimmering moment was suddenly shattered when there was a burst of loud laughter outside their rickety sanctuary. Dominic sat up, his whole body tense as he looked toward the door.

  Sophia heard the patter of footsteps running over grass, a shriek as someone was caught in the game that she had forgotten. An inexplicable sadness came over her as she felt her time with Dominic dissolve around her like a bubble. She pushed herself to her feet and straightened her rumpled gown as she turned her back to him.

  She heard the rustle of cloth as he pulled on his discarded clothes. His booted footsteps sounded on the wooden floor behind her, and she closed her eyes as he moved close to her. She knew she should leave and slip back into the party, but a part of her wanted only to cling to this moment. She felt his hands brush lightly over her shoulders, and she pressed back a sob at the touch.

  He gently swept the loose hair off her neck and smoothed it back into the combs that had held her coiffure in place. He didn’t say anything, but his touch was careful and tender, and Sophia was glad he didn’t say anything. She was afraid she couldn’t speak, or that she would start crying and embarrass herself in front of him. He was the last person she wanted to see any weakness.

  “I should go,” she said.

  She felt him nod. He pressed one light, fleeting kiss to the nape of her neck and let her go. Without looking back, she tiptoed to the door and peeked out at the sun-washed meadow. For an instant, the light dazzled her eyes, but she could hear the laughter and shrieks.

  “Sophia…” Dominic said. She held up her hand, still afraid she might shatter if he apologized now.

  He said nothing else, and she slipped out of the hut, letting the door squeak closed behind her. She saw a group just at the top of the hill, the women running as the men chased them, a flock of bright butterflies in the sunshine. She made her way toward them to slip into their midst, but part of her desperately wanted to run back to Dominic and that one fleeting moment of peace she had found in his arms.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The smell of sweat and blood hung thick and choking in the humid air. Dominic could hear the rabid shouts and cries, the howls of derision and encouragement, but it all seemed very far away. All he could see were his opponent’s eyes, dark and feral beyond the pall of smoke that hung between them. All he could feel was the rush of pure exhilaration through his veins, bringing the pulse of raw, real life.

  That feeling of being alive had been hard to find lately, no matter where he looked for it. Onstage, in women’s beds, in alcohol—all the places that once gave him pleasure held no spark for him now, and hadn’t for a long time. Only here, with the noise and the blood, the pain, could he almost grasp it again.

  Here—and when he was with Sophia. When he touched her, smelled her perfume, had sex with her, it was like life again. Pain and pleasure mingled until he couldn’t tell one from the other. He only knew he wanted her, needed her, in a way he never had anything else before.

  And he hated that feeling. He couldn’t want a Huntington, not after a lifetime spent hating them. He couldn’t let tender emotions take over his life, not with Sophia.

  So he had come here, to this dingy, dark basement under a cheap gin-joint in Pigalle. Here there were no rules, no veneer of civilization, only pure instinct. Only pain that made him feel alive again for a moment.

  Dominic slowly circled his opponent, his fists up as he studied the man’s every movement, every flicker in his eyes. So far the man was something of a disappointment. He was a huge, hulking bargeman off the Seine, far outweighing Dominic, and from what Dominic had heard, he had something of a reputation on the Paris fight circuit. Dominic had looked forward to taking him on, but the man had no strategy, no speed or grace. None of the challenge that would offer a real escape.

  The man gave a great roar and ran headlong at Dominic. For an instant, Dominic was caught off-guard and staggered back, but he regained his lithe footwork and let loose with a punishing flurry of blows. His opponent could not keep up, and at last he went reeling and fell to the floor amid a roar of derision.

  Dominic stared down at his fallen opponent. A mountain of rock-hard muscle laid flat and unmoving on the sawdust-covered floor. Such a pity; it had been over much too quickly.

  As the crowd surged around him with a roar, Dominic laughed. Coming here tonight had been meant to banish something inside him that had been plaguing him ever since he had sex with Sophia, yet it still lurked there. That dark need that could never be banished no matter what he did, that had only left him when he was inside her.

  He broke free of the tangle of people and spun toward the bar. The barkeep slid a generous portion of cheap gin in front of him, and Dominic drank it down in one swallow. The burn of it revived him, but it still couldn’t put out that fire inside him. He gestured for another.

  “Better be careful,” he heard Brendan say. “You’ll ruin that pretty face of yours, and the ladies won’t chase after you anymore.”

  Dominic glanced over at his brother. Brendan lounged on one of the bar stools in his shirtsleeves, a half-full glass in front of him. He rarely imbibed much in places like these and never fought, even though he had once had quite a fierce reputation for it. He just watched, silent and unreadable, as if he waited for something.

  In the smoky darkness, Brendan’s scars could hardly be seen. But Dominic knew they were always there, an outward manifestation of something dark and hidden in his brother’s soul. Neither of them could ever be content. It was part of what made them St. Claires.

  “It hasn’t stopped your success with the fair sex,” Dominic said. He gestured with his glass at one of the barmaids, a buxom blonde in cheap red satin who had been sending Brendan coy smiles and lingering glances all night.

  Brendan shrugged. “I do have other talents. But you won’t if you keep letting yourself get pounded like that.”

  “I’m not the one passed out on the floor.” Dominic gestured for another gin. The numbness hadn’t come over him yet, but he hoped that soon it would. Maybe then he wouldn’t keep seeing Sophia’s face in his mind, her eyes closed as her head arched back in pleasurable abandon.

  “Not tonight maybe. But your next opponent may very well be more skilled than that behemoth. If you were to kill yourself doing these things, the rest of us would never hear the end of it from our mother. You are her favorite darling.”

  Dominic laughed. “No, indeed. That would be James, and it’s a good thing we sent him home before he got into any more trouble.”

  “Paris seems dangerous for impressionable young men,” Brendan said.

  And not-so-young men who shouldn’t be impressionable any longer? But Dominic knew it wasn’t Paris that was making him crazy. It was Sophia Westman.

  He tossed back the last of his gin. “I think I might try Madame Brancusi’s tonight,” he said.

  “After what happened with James?”

  Dominic shrugged. “They say her girls are beautiful and highly skilled. Perhaps if I spend enough money there, she will be in a forgiving mood. She is a businesswoman, after all.”

  “Perhaps, if that Lord Hammond isn’t there. I didn’t trust that man.”

  And neither had Dominic. The St. Claires were often unscrupulous in their business dealings, but they did have hearts. Hammond’s eyes had been the coldest Dominic had ever seen. “He won’t be.”

  “Then I’ll go with you,” Brendan said as he reached for the last of his drink.

  “You have no need of Madame Brancusi’s girls tonight,” Dominic answered, gesturing toward the barmaid.

  A rare smile flickered over Brendan’s scarred face. “She does have some rather—intere
sting attributes. But you don’t seem to be in any fit state to be wandering the streets of Paris alone.”

  “I don’t need a nursemaid, Brendan. Stay, enjoy your barmaid. I will see you at the theater tomorrow for rehearsal.”

  “I don’t trust that look in your eyes.”

  “Think I might get into some trouble?” Dominic laughed as he reached for his coat. “Damn it, I do hope so.”

  He left Brendan to his pretty barmaid and made his way up the stairs to the public rooms above the basement. It was slightly cleaner there, the air free of the thick tang of blood and sweat, but it was no less noisy. A band played a boisterous polka as couples galloped across the floor, fueled by the music and the cheap gin. No one looked twice at his bruised face; it was late and the night’s merriment was reaching its deafening, drunken crescendo. It was all fun now, but Dominic knew places like this, and he knew how quickly the laughter could cross over into violence.

  He considered staying, but he had had his fill of fistfights for the night. It was time for other distractions. He ducked past the knot of people blocking the front doors and made his way out into the street. It was a colorful neighborhood, teeming with drunken, shrieking people reeling along the walkways together, light spilling out of windows and doorways, prostitutes beckoning from alleyways. But Dominic turned at the end of the street and found a quieter, narrower lane, one where people usually sought more clandestine pleasures. Tonight it was nearly deserted, even more so when he got near the river.

  Suddenly he heard a click on the pavement somewhere behind him. It was a small thing, a tiny sound that fell in the nighttime quiet like a raindrop in a pond. But he was still on edge after the fight, and every sound echoed around him.

  He kept walking, never breaking his stride, but his fingers tightened into fists and he smiled. If anyone wanted to rob him tonight, they had best be ready for a brawl, because he had no intention of going down easy.