They tumbled together onto the bed, a tangle of lips and limbs and passion. She’d never known, never so much as suspected, such unrelenting need could claim her and wondered in a small part of her mind not clouded by desire how something so intense, so all consuming could happen with a stranger. A man she scarcely knew. It was wrong, certainly a sin. And nothing in her life had ever felt so right....
Together they twisted and stumbled toward the bed, her body and his, her mouth and his, her hands, his hands never losing the contact between them. As if parting for so much as an instant would drive them both mad. They fell onto the bed, frantic with the need to touch and taste and feel. The need for more. His hands, his lips were everywhere at once. He sucked at her breast and she heard an odd, whimpering sound and realized it was her. She tunneled her fingers through his hair. Her legs wrapped around him and he slid down her body, his mouth blazing a trail between her breasts and lower to her stomach and lower still....
He buried his head between her legs and she held her breath, resisting the urge to push him away. This was not . . . She had never . . . Phillip had never . . . Panic welled within her. She couldn’t possibly . . . She gasped. He tasted her and all hesitation fled, washed away by exquisite sensation and the deepest intimacy. Surely she would die of the sweet torture he inflicted with his tongue and his teeth. And she knew as well it would be a glorious way to die. . . .
Her breath came faster and she writhed beneath him, urging him on. She distinctly recalled a moment of shock at this sinful intimacy in New York. Now, she ached for his touch. Ached for him. She raised her hips. His fingers parted her, his breath whispered over her. She cried out at the first touch of his tongue, dissolving onto a being of sheer sensation. Knowing nothing but his caress. Existing only in the feel of his touch. The touch that threatened to be her undoing. Her hands fisted in the bedclothes. His tongue teased and stroked and carried her closer and closer to that place only he had brought her....
Tension coiled tighter and tighter within her, straining and reaching until at last her body shook in waves of unexpected, unimagined pure pleasure. For no more than a fleeting instant, Phillip flashed through her mind and she hated him for never sharing this and never caring. The thought vanished at once, dashed aside by rising need. And she wanted more....
“No,” she murmured and shifted beneath him, sliding lower until his erection nudged her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and gazed into his dark eyes, glazed with passion, reflecting her own. “I want . . .”
“You,” he said, his voice hoarse with passion. “Always, only you . . .”
Her hand slipped between them and her fingers curled around the hot length of him and he moaned. She arched her hips upward and guided him into her. He gasped and slid deeper, stretching her, filling her, claiming her once again as his....
“Delilah,” he murmured against her ear. “Oh, God.”
“Samuel . . .” She struggled for breath. “Please, now . . .”
He positioned himself between her legs and entered her slowly, carefully. As if she were fragile and precious and valued. Until he filled her and she knew with blinding clarity, for this moment, she was his. And he was hers....
She rocked her hips against him, urging him on. Faster and harder. He thrust into her again and again, burying himself deeper and deeper. Hard and hot, and slick and wet. Pleasure and the joy of being one with him gripped her, filled her, devoured her. With every stroke, the past and the present, the dreams and the memories twisted, entwining together like vines of desire and passion and wonder. Had it been months? Or forever? Or only yesterday? His slick body slid against hers, every movement urging her on, taking her higher. Her blood pounded in her ears. His heart thudded in tandem with her own. Her body throbbed around him, aching, yearning, reaching for more. Always, ever more . . .
And when release again caught her unawares, she wondered if this was the stuff adventures were made of. Or dreams . . .
He groaned and his muscles tightened and he shuddered against her. He stroked into her once more and again until she cried out and her back arched and her body exploded. And ecstasy washed through her and curled her toes and caught at her soul.
When at last she could breathe again, she propped herself up on her elbow, gazed into his brown eyes, and smiled in a most sinful, wicked manner.
His brow rose. “Why, Mrs. Hargate, if I didn’t know better I’d think you have another plan.”
“My dear American.” Her hand drifted over his stomach and lower to his still hard erection. “I believe I do.”
He laughed and caught her hand, drawing her palm to his lips. “Good.”
He pulled her back into his arms and in that moment before she lost herself again in the joy of being with him, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her head.
Perhaps one adventure was not nearly enough.
Chapter Ten
Sam rolled over on his side, bunched the pillow under his head, and studied her. What did it say about a man who couldn’t get a woman out of his head? Especially a woman who was interested only in what a man had rather than what a man was. The kind of woman he had sworn never to lose his heart to again.
“Well.” She stared up at the ceiling. “That was certainly . . .”
He chuckled. “Worth waiting for?”
“One could say that.” She smiled. “One could definitely say that.”
“Welcome back, Mrs. Hargate.”
She glanced at him. “I do hope you understand this was not my intention in coming to your room.”
“Wasn’t it?”
“Don’t be absurd.” Her objection didn’t quite ring true, especially as she’d made no effort to avoid ending up in his bed.
“My apologies then. I have must have misunderstood.” He shook his head thoughtfully. “You did not knock on my door, dressed only in a lace robe and nearly transparent nightgown—”
“It’s not the least bit transparent.”
“It is when you stand in front of the light.”
“It’s really quite practical.” She propped herself up on her elbows and glanced around the room. “Wherever it is.”
“It seemed practical to me.” He grinned. “Especially when you stand in front of the light.”
“I shall keep that in mind the next time I come to a man’s door in the middle of the night,” she said in a prim manner.
He laughed. “Oh, but you don’t do this sort of thing.”
“I don’t. Except for that once.” A smug smile creased her lips. “And now.”
He studied her for a long moment. How had he ever let her go? “I missed you, Dee.”
“Teddy’s the only one who calls me Dee.”
“Not anymore. I like it. Besides, Samuel and Delilah are entirely too biblical for me.”
“Good Lord, Sam.” She sat up, pulled a pillow behind her, and drew the covers up around her. “We’re not a couple. This is not what I want—”
“No?” he chuckled.
“No. And it certainly isn’t what I’ve planned. I thought you understood that.”
“Plans change.”
“Not mine.” She shook her head. “I did not plan on you.”
“You’re being practical and rational now, aren’t you?” He took her hand.
“I am trying.” She glanced pointedly at his hand on hers. “You’re not making it easy.”
“Good.” He leaned forward and kissed the crook of her elbow. “If I were Lord Stickinthemud, and my money had come from King Arthur himself—”
“You do realize he was only a legend?”
“You’d be trying right now to think of how you could get me to propose.”
She started to deny it, then smiled. “Possibly.”
He chuckled softly. “Is this where you tell me it would be best if we never saw each other again?”
“No.” She sighed. “I daresay it would be pointless.”
“Then you do want to see me again?”
“Per
haps we should more clearly define see.”
“I will define it however you wish.”
“There’s that unexpected gallantry of yours again.” She smiled. “Marred only by the fact that you know full well what I mean by see.”
“Unfortunately.” He trailed kisses up her arm to her shoulder.
“It can’t be helped. Seeing one another, that is. We are both residing at Millworth. You insist on staying for the wedding and beyond that you’re one of my future brother-in-law’s closest friends.” She paused. “However, I suspect we can now be on friendlier terms with one another.”
“I doubt we can get much friendlier,” he murmured against her shoulder.
“Now that we have eased this, well, this tension between us.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought it was.” Tension seemed as good a word as any. Although magic was better.
She plucked absently at the covers with her free hand. “I must say I have never felt this comfortable with a man. Oh, perhaps with Grayson and Winfield but I’ve known them all of my life.”
“That’s what happens when one eases tensions.” He nibbled at the curve where her shoulder met her neck and she shivered beneath his lips.
“Now that I think about it . . .” That breathless quality he had found so irresistible was back and his stomach tightened. “I can’t recall ever feeling this relaxed before. Certainly never in the company of a man,” she added thoughtfully.
He drew back and stared at her. “And you want to talk about it? Now?”
She shrugged. “I just find it interesting that’s all.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Because one should always be on one’s guard around men. Men are generally not to be trusted.”
“That’s a scathing indictment of an entire gender.”
“Oh, I’m certain there are a few worthy of trust. But I daresay that’s why men and women are rarely, truly friends.”
“Because we can’t be trusted?”
She slanted him a chastising smile. “You needn’t take it as a personal affront. We’re not talking about you specifically.”
“But about me in general as, oh, specifically, I am a man.”
“And an easily insulted one at that.”
“Actually, given some of the things you’ve said to me since my arrival, I thought I had a fairly thick skin.”
She smiled.
“So men are not trustworthy?”
“When it comes to women, no.”
“Not even husbands?”
“Oh, especially not husbands.”
“I see.”
Her brow furrowed. “Don’t read more into my words than what I am saying.”
“Then we’re not talking about your husband?”
She paused for no more than a heartbeat but it was enough. “We are not.”
Again he noted her reluctance to talk about her husband.
He suspected Lord Hargate hadn’t been nearly as perfect as she claimed. “Because he was perfect?”
“Exactly.”
“I see.”
“You see far less than you think you do,” she said mildly.
“And I thought I was most astute.”
She ignored him. “For the most part, one should never count on men to do what they are supposed to do.”
“I had no idea we were so unreliable.”
“That’s because you deal with men in matters of business. That’s a different thing altogether. I’m speaking of man in his domestic dealings. In his dealings with women.” She shook her head. “Men have to be guided. Directed as it were.”
“Manipulated?”
Her brow furrowed. “That’s entirely too harsh a word.”
“But accurate nonetheless.”
“I suppose it’s not completely inaccurate.”
He heaved a heartfelt sigh. “I know I feel manipulated. However . . .” He paused. “I enjoyed it.”
She cast him a startled look. He grinned wickedly and she laughed. “You do realize there will be no more of this.”
He considered her for a long moment. She was a difficult woman to decipher. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.”
He didn’t believe her or maybe he just didn’t want to believe her. Nonetheless, if this was the game she wanted to play, he’d play along. “All right. We’ll be friends from this point forward.” He held out his hand. “Agreed?”
She cast him a suspicious look. “Oh, no. I know what happened the last time I shook your hand.”
He laughed, grabbed her hand, pulled her close and kissed her hard, then released her.
“Nor shall we ever shake hands again,” she said with a breathless catch in her voice.
He wasn’t sure he could simply be her friend nor was he sure he wanted to. In fact, he wasn’t actually certain about anything at the moment let alone what he really wanted. Was she a pleasant interlude or something more? Perhaps he needed to sort out his own desires before he tried to address hers.
“Now then, if you would be so kind . . .” She fluttered her hand at him. “If you could find my night things.”
“I’ll have to get out of bed to do that.”
“Yes, I know.”
He lifted the covers, glanced beneath them, then looked back at her. “I am naked, you know.”
“I am well aware of that.”
“I wouldn’t want you to be embarrassed.”
“It’s a risk I am willing to take.”
“And I don’t want the thought of my naked body to haunt you every time you looked at me.”
“I shall endeavor to bravely carry on.”
He sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and grabbed the crumpled blue silk heap that was his dressing gown off the floor. He threw it on, stood up, and spotted her nightgown. He grabbed it and presented it to her with a flourish.
“Thank you.” She pulled the covers tighter and her brow furrowed. “Would you be so good as to turn around or avert your eyes so that I might dress?”
“Ah modesty has reasserted itself.”
“I find it hard to believe it ever wavered.” She gestured again. “Go on then.”
He chuckled and turned away. Behind him, he could hear the rustle of fabric.
“I have a, well, a proposal for you.”
“Oh?” He arched a brow. “I thought you said we wouldn’t suit?”
“Not that kind of proposal. While I have not changed my opinion on the absurdity of your motorwagon, as you are willing to absent yourself from Millworth, I should like to show my appreciation.”
“I thought you just did.” He turned toward her and grinned wickedly.
“Good Lord, Sam, do you think of nothing else?” She pulled her wrapper around her and tied the ribbons tight.
Did she have any idea how delicious she looked? With her dark hair disheveled around her face, a sparkle in her blue eyes, and a flush coloring her creamy skin? As he remembered her from New York. As she was in his dreams.
“At the moment it’s difficult.”
“Well, do your best.” Her tone was firm but a smile shone in her eyes. “My late husband was very involved in business. I can’t tell you anything more specific because I don’t really know specifics. He never discussed matters of business with me.” She shrugged. “But I do know that he and his oldest and closest friend were partners in any number of business endeavors. I was thinking of going to London tomorrow, primarily to meet with my solicitor. If you would like to accompany me, I would be happy to arrange a meeting. Mr. Tate might be able to offer some assistance or make some suggestions. It might be, oh, beneficial.”
“It might at that.” He studied her for a moment. “You would do that for me?”
“I would simply like to make amends for my bad behavior.”
“Again, I thought you just had.”
She ignored him. “Besides, we are friends, aren’t we?”
For now. Where did that come from? He chuckled. “We are
at that.”
“I should be getting back to my room.” She moved to the door, opened it carefully, and peered down the hall.
“And there will be no more of this?”
“Absolutely not,” she said absently, still perusing the hallway.
“In that case . . .” He stepped to the door, closed it quietly, and pulled her into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Kissing you.” His lips claimed hers. For a brief moment she hesitated then wrapped her arms around his neck and met his passion with her own. This is what he had dreamed of since he had last kissed her in New York. Her lips warm and supple and welcoming beneath his. The curves of her body melding so perfectly with his. The beat of her heart echoing the rush of blood through his veins. But this was better than any dream. This was real.
At last she pulled away and gazed up at him, her blue eyes glazed with desire and resolve.
“I do need to go.”
He smiled down at her. “If that’s what you want.”
“I’m not sure what I want I’m afraid.” She smiled in a wry manner. “Your fault entirely, I might add.”
“And for that I am more than willing to accept the blame.” He kissed her again then reluctantly released her.
She opened the door, glanced down the hall, then looked back at him. “You are right though, you know, about one thing.”
“And what might that be?”
“There are indeed activities beyond tennis that you do quite well.” She cast him a wicked grin. “Quite well indeed.” She nodded and slipped into the hallway.
He chuckled and closed the door. This was not at all what he had expected when she’d knocked on his door tonight. In fact, after their argument today, he would have bet serious money that she would never speak to him again. Not that he was complaining. But he was certainly confused. And not merely about the lovely Lady Hargate.
He crossed to the desk and absently straightened his notes. He wasn’t used to being confused and couldn’t remember the last time he had been. Doubt was simply not part of his nature. No, he was a man of confidence in the decisions he made and the paths he chose to take. He was clear-headed and decisive and never uncertain about anything.
The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride Page 15