The Taste of Temptation

by Julia Kelly

  Catriona smiled at Caroline. “Don’t pay them any attention. They like to torment each other like brother and sister, but it’s all a ruse. They actually love each other dearly.”

  The woman’s words seemed to act like a balm to Eva, who slipped her hand into Catriona’s and brought it to her lips. These two women weren’t widows, or if they were, they’d clearly found love again in each other. They were living in—what did the Americans call it?—a Boston marriage.

  Caroline could sense Moray’s keen gaze on her: no doubt he was waiting to see how she would react to the idea of two women in love and living together quite happily.

  “You have a lovely home,” she said. “I appreciate you both allowing us to meet like this. As you can imagine, it’s difficult to find opportunities to speak alone.”

  “Yes,” said Eva, with a smile curling her lips, “speaking is rather difficult.”

  Caroline blushed, and Eva turned to Catriona and said, “I thought we’d go for a drive. I expect we’ll be gone for hours.”

  Catriona covered her hand. “It’ll be a treat to have you to myself during daylight hours.”

  “Who is at the Lothian?” Caroline asked, looking from editor in chief to managing editor.

  “Gavin’s turned us out again. He’s shown himself to be quite adept when it comes to running the paper,” Moray said. “I just hope I don’t wind up regretting the decision to hire him one day. He might prove better at it than I am.”

  “Afraid of a little competition?” teased Caroline.

  He laughed. “Never. Gavin is dedicated, but he doesn’t have the mad devotion to it that I do.”

  “And thank God for that,” muttered Eva. “Come on, Catriona. We’ve a drive we’re meant to be on.”

  “A very, very long drive,” said Catriona with a giggle.

  When the door shut behind the two women, Moray was by her side in just two steps. It took only a second longer for his arm to slip around her waist, bending her back as he leaned over her, strong, masculine, and insistent. “I hope you had no illusions about why I wrote to you.”

  Her heart fluttered fast in her chest. She slid her hands up his arms, skimming the cloth heated through with his warmth. “I hope you had no illusions about why I accepted your invitation.”

  He grinned like a wolf with its dinner in its sights. “Then you won’t mind if I do this.”

  The gravel of his voice broke down her last little bit of restraint as his lips fell on hers. She opened her mouth for him, not caring to veil her need in coy words or flirtation. They were beyond that now, and she kissed him back with the hunger of a woman who knew what she wanted.

  His tongue darted into her mouth, and she groaned against him. When his arms clasped her closer, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself flush against his body. She could feel him hardening against her stomach, but this time she was determined not to rush any moment. She didn’t know how often they’d be able to meet like this. An understanding benefactor was one thing, but Eva and Catriona surely wouldn’t want their drawing room to be transformed into a brothel, never mind that she’d be courting risk every time she tried to slip away to see Moray.

  The play of his fingers over the row of buttons on the back of her dress wrenched her back into the present. Worrying about what might happen when this man in front of her was prepared to please her would do her no good. He’d worship her body just as she would his. That was what mattered this afternoon. Not logistics or worries or pesky what-ifs.

  The first button on the top of her bodice popped free under the ministrations of his nimble fingers. “I want you naked and panting under me,” he said against her mouth.

  “Not on top of you?” she asked.

  “And to think, before Saturday night I thought you were a virgin.”

  “I play my role well.”

  “Yes, you do.” Another button went on her dress. He was going to lay her out here in the drawing room and she was going to love every last moment of it.

  “Turn around,” he ordered, spinning her with his hands on her hips.

  His breath stirred the small wisps of hair at the back of her neck and she shivered as button after button fell to his advancing fingers. He pressed a kiss to her neck, right in the middle along the ridge of her spine, and then slowly he pulled away the fabric of her bodice. Her dress gaped in the front, the cool air a relief against her heated skin. She wanted to be free. She needed him to see her in the full light of day.

  His hands moved swiftly now to undo the ties of her crinoline and loosen her corset. He helped her step free but wouldn’t allow her to turn to face him, so she pressed her back into him. Her whole body trembled with anticipation while his hands ran up and down the curve of her waist, bunching fabric as he went.

  “I want to take your hair down,” he said.

  She shook her head even though she wanted more than anything to feel the scrape of his fingers against her scalp, a soothing gesture altogether more intimate than some of the kisses they’d shared. “I could never re-create the style without the help of my maid. If you were to take it down, everyone else would know the moment I stepped outside this door.”

  He kissed the slope of her neck where it met her shoulder and murmured against her skin, “So don’t leave this room.”

  She laughed. “Ever?”

  “Ever.”

  “And who would feed us?” she asked.

  “We’d leave notes outside the door for Eva and Catriona, and they’d leave us trays that we could snatch up when they weren’t looking.”

  He traced his fingers down the line of her neck where he’d just kissed her, and her eyes fluttered closed. She’d never dreamed that she would be a woman having afternoon assignations like this. That seemed to be the purview of grander ladies, ones who were long secure in their marriages, having provided a couple of children to ensure their husbands’ legacies. And yet here she was, letting a man undress her in a strange drawing room. Just standing there in her shift, she felt more sensuous and desirable than she had in years.

  This is what it would be like to have this man as a lover. She could see herself greeting him, dressed in a tea gown elaborate enough to hide her uncorseted body until she chose to unwrap herself for him, a present he could worship and treasure. But Moray wouldn’t want her just in the afternoons. He’d crave her in the morning and the evening and perhaps at lunch as well. And she would long for him too.

  Her insatiable need for him thrilled her just as it frightened her. Long ago, she’d promised herself she’d never place all her happiness and trust in one man again. Her broken engagement had chipped away at her confidence and ruined her life just as surely as her mother had. She’d thought she’d solidly walled off the vulnerability in her heart, but the way Moray looked at her, touching her with the reverence of a man who couldn’t believe the prize he’d won, sent that wall tumbling down.

  What would it be like to be married to this man?

  No. Now was not the time to entertain such flights of fancy. Not when he was lavishing kisses on that spot just below her earlobe that sent desire shooting through her. Not while her clit ached and her sex was wet with wanting him.

  Caroline could feel the moment Moray realized she’d laid off wearing the drawers that would normally go underneath all of her layers of clothing. It had seemed a little silly at the time—after all, there was so much fabric between her and the open air whenever she was anywhere but her room—but now she was pleased with her foresight. He settled his large, warm hands over the wide spread of her hips and then, gently, dug his fingertips into her flesh. The hard ridge of his cock pressed against the seam of her backside and she groaned.

  “Please, Jonathan.”

  He pushed her forward, his hands guiding her by her hips until her shins hit the cushion of a sofa that sat innocuously in the middle of the room.

  “Brace yourself against the back of it,” he commanded.

  She did as she was told, her hands sin
king into the plush fabric. His touch skimmed over her thighs and then his hand dipped between her legs to brush over her clit. She couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath at the intensity. It was more than she’d ever felt when touching herself. Not knowing what he was going to do and not being able to anticipate his movements heightened everything. Every sensation was more intense, every withdrawal of his touch a greater agony.

  His hand moved over the swell of her backside as he kissed a line down her spine, stopping to lavish attention at one spot or another. His other hand wrapped around her to cup her breast, his fingers working at her nipple until it peaked hard and ready. She was panting now, completely unashamed about the desire that was building inside her.

  As he got lower and lower with his kisses he rolled her nipple between his fingers harder. Her hips bucked up against him as she searched for any sort of relief that he might give her. Instead he tsked against her skin, scolding her without words.

  “Jonathan,” she ground out.

  His chuckle vibrated through her. “You’re all impatience today.”

  “And you’re not?” she asked.

  “I can wait for what I want.” His hand reached up to slide from her neck down to the small of her back. “But I’ll do what my lady wishes.”

  She hardly had a moment to consider the possessiveness of that statement, because he dropped to his knees behind her. He nudged her feet a little wider to open for him. Later it would occur to her that perhaps she should’ve been embarrassed to be on display for a man she’d spent most of her time fighting with but with whom she felt a strange, vibrant connection. If she’d been the woman her mother had wanted her to be, she never would’ve allowed him to touch her let alone be in a room alone with her. But she wasn’t that delicate, naive woman any longer. She was determined and passionate. She was in control.

  One of his hands went to her knee, his thumb brushing little strokes across her skin in soothing circles. The other hand traced its way up her inner thigh, fingers splayed over heated flesh. He stroked the tops of her thighs and the spread of her hips. And then, just when she thought she couldn’t stand the teasing touches any longer, he dipped between her folds. The pad of his thumb rubbed over her swollen clit, and her legs nearly buckled. If it hadn’t been for his hands clamping her in place, she might’ve fallen forward onto the sofa.

  Her head dropped forward, her eyes shutting tight as sensation began to roll through her. Her whole body flushed with heat, and it was all she could do to keep her nails from digging into the soft upholstery of the tufted sofa back.

  “You have no idea the things you do to me,” he murmured before kissing the inside of her thigh. Then he took the tip of his tongue and pressed it right where his fingers had been.

  Caroline’s eyes flew open and she sobbed in a breath, her whole body shaking with the effort of not falling apart. She didn’t want him to stop. She didn’t want him to think she couldn’t take all of what he was giving her. But then he took that tongue and flicked over her again and again, the tiny movements driving her closer to her climax. Closer to bliss. When he drew two of his fingers to the wetness of her sex and plunged into her, she cried out and her hips canted back. Heat exploded through her, but he clamped his mouth down, sucking hard as she rode out the waves of pleasure.

  When she was finally spent, Moray eased her so that her knees rested on the couch and then, slowly, he pulled the shift up around her waist and over her head, baring her completely.

  He sank down onto the sofa next to her and pulled her onto his lap. Her still-sensitive clit throbbed low and deep, but she knew it wasn’t enough. She wanted all of him, until he was just as useless as she was in that moment.

  With two fingers on his cheek she turned his face to look at her. Slowly, she ran her thumb along his lush lower lip.

  “If you think I’m done with you, you’re sorely mistaken,” she whispered.

  His eyes darkened with desire. “I don’t want to push you, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that feeling you against my mouth is only the second-best thing I want to experience this afternoon.”

  She smiled saucily. “And what would be the first?”

  He nipped at the tip of her thumb, yet his eyes were deadly serious. “That would be you on my lap, riding my cock.”

  She tilted her head, a wanton smile spreading across her face. “You are demanding, aren’t you?”

  “Only because I have a good idea of what you want too.”

  She switched her thumb for her index finger, tracing it over his lip before sliding the digit into his mouth. Gently he bit down on it and sucked, as though the sensation would wash away any lingering hurt. But he hadn’t hurt her. Not yet. Not like she knew he could if only she’d let him, and it was becoming harder to resist.

  She pulled her finger from his lips with a pop and then pushed back a bit of his hair that was falling over his forehead. “Do you know what the one problem with your plan is?”

  “I don’t see any problems with this plan. At the end of it we both win. Happy, satisfied, and satiated. For a time.”

  She chuckled. “I was thinking more of the present moment. I’m naked, but you’re still fully clothed.”

  “That can be fixed.”

  He eased her off his lap and stood, divesting himself of his shirt in record time. The waistband of his trousers fell open and he shoved them off with his drawers in one smooth motion. His cock sprang free, hard and ready for her with the glistening wetness at the tip of it that told her he was just as eager as she was.

  He snatched his shirt off the floor to cover the sofa and sank back down, pulling her with him. With a laugh she went to her knees, straddling him. Her hands cupped his face, and she kissed him deeply, leaning into him so that her taut nipples brushed the hair of his chest. When the head of his cock nudged against her slit, it was his turn to moan.

  Still kissing her, he took his erection up in his hand. He guided her hips into place until he was right up against her entrance. One push and he’d be deep inside her. She ached for it—for him.

  “You undo me,” he murmured.

  She touched her forehead to his. “Prove it to me.”

  He thrust up into her even as his hand on her hip pushed her down, and she rocked forward. She buried her head in the crook of his neck, panting fast. He overwhelmed her body, stretching her until she was full. Complete.

  Under her, he rocked his hips, and she moved with him on her knees. Each slide of his cock drove the ache of her last orgasm deeper. Except this one was different. This time, with Moray inside her, the sensation was rawer and more powerful, as though he was dragging it out of the very depths of her.

  Moray’s hand clamped down on the back of her neck as he moved faster and harder. She clung to the muscles of his arms, and relished the feeling of them flexing and pulling under her. When he dropped his lips to her neck, she thought he’d kiss her but instead his teeth sank into the tendon along her neck.

  The sting of pleasure and pain from the nip sent her over the edge. She came hard again, her muscles squeezing around his cock. He thrust faster, slamming into her body while she cried out. And then he was there. He pulled out of her, pumping his last few strokes. His head fell back, exposing the underside of his jaw, which was already showing the shadow of whiskers. She kissed a patch of that stubble, relishing the sensation of it scraping against her tongue as, out of control, he finished himself.

  After he’d cleaned himself up, he tucked her close to him. It felt natural to sling her arms around his neck and rest her head on his shoulder, so that’s exactly what she did.

  Chapter Seventeen

  CAROLINE AND MORAY stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for a few moments, letting the silence sweep around them and calm their fast-beating hearts.

  It was extraordinary, when she stopped to think about it. Just a few weeks before, she’d professed to loathe him and everything he stood for. Yet she hadn’t been able to deny the little spark of attraction tha
t had lit in her when she’d first laid eyes on him. Then, with time, she’d come to learn more about him. He was well read, quick in conversation, and endlessly teasing, and she found it more and more difficult to deny that she enjoyed his company. Now he was more intimately acquainted with her body than any other man, and she could feel that enjoyment begin to deepen into something more.

  He was still a newspaperman—exactly the sort she shouldn’t trust—but he also hadn’t asked her to grant an interview in days. When she really thought about it, he’d done exactly the opposite, seeking her out to warn her away from Trevlan and finding a way to see her once again.

  This afternoon could just be about sex. She wouldn’t be the first woman to have been wooed into an assignation with a man who found a thrill in the illicit, but other than offering her a few impassioned whispers he’d promised her nothing. For all that his trade was words, he didn’t woo with twisting, turning declarations that could entrap a woman. Instead, he was blunt, up-front. I burn for you, he’d written. But still, that was a far cry from I care for you. I love you.

  A familiar ache she’d long ago thought had dissipated throbbed in her chest once again, and it took everything she had not to rub at the spot. Long ago she’d learned that love could disappoint. Her mother, a woman who should’ve loved Caroline unconditionally, had withheld her love, using it instead as a tool to manipulate her daughter. Julian had promised her the entire world, professing that he loved her more than any title he’d ever hold, and yet he’d cast her off so easily for an heiress suited him and his bank account better.

  No. Caroline would take what few moments she could have with Moray and hold them close to her, waiting for the inevitable good-bye. It was easier that way. Cleaner.

  “You’re thinking so hard I can almost hear the gears ticking over in your mind,” he said, breaking the quiet.

  She smiled up at him. “I’m enjoying being still for just a moment.”

  “Your plan to marry must be keeping you busy,” he said.

  She glanced at him, searching out any malice in his words, but there was none.