Arranged Marriage, Bedroom Secrets

by Yvonne Lindsay

  He looked at her, taking in the sultry ruby-red gown she wore this evening and noting the way it caressed her curves. From the front, it was cut to conceal, yet with every movement it teased and hinted at the feminine delights behind the silky weave of fabric. And when she turned around the tantalizing line of her back was exposed to him, making him ache to trace a line of kisses down her spine. Every evening Angel had made the effort to change for him, to entertain him by word and deed—to be the courtesan he’d contracted. And every night he looked his fill while his body clamored for more. She was strikingly beautiful, fiercely intelligent and exhibited a warm humor that touched him on an emotional level in ways he hadn’t expected.

  He wanted her—was entitled to her since he had bought her services—and yet he continued to deny himself the privilege. Some would say he was crazy—hell, sometimes even he thought he was mad as he twisted in his sheets at night, his body craving the indulgence of physical pleasure he knew would exceed his expectations. But he had kept his discipline all these years. He could not loosen the reins now, no matter how much he wanted to.

  “Hawk?” Angel prompted him, making him realize he’d been staring at her and had yet to answer her question.

  “I will, in the morning. Come with me now. I have something to show you.”

  He held out his hand and felt a surge of masculine protectiveness as, without question, she put her smaller hand in his. Thierry led Angel back through the ground floor of the lodge and across the great hall to a corridor on the other side.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked, looking around her at the ancient tapestries that lined the walls.

  “To my sanctuary within my sanctuary,” he said enigmatically.

  “That sounds intriguing.”

  “Very few people ever set foot in there and never without my express permission. It is a place I go when I want to be completely alone.”

  “And yet, you’re taking me?”

  “It seems appropriate,” he conceded.

  He took a key chain from his pocket and, selecting the correct key, he unlocked a massive wooden door at the end of the corridor. The door opened inward onto a small landing and light from the hall filtered down a descending curved stone staircase.

  “You’re not leading me to your dungeon, are you?” Angel said, half jokingly.

  “No, I like to think of it more as a hidden treasure.”

  He reached out to flip a switch on the wall and small discreet pockets of light illuminated the grotto beneath. Thierry led the way down the stairs and smiled as he heard Angel’s gasp of delight when she saw the massive natural pool gleaming in the semidarkness. He lit a taper and moved about the cavern, lighting the many candles scattered here and there.

  Angel moved closer to the edge of the pool and bent to dip her hand in the inky water.

  “It’s warm!” she exclaimed. “How on earth did you build a heated underground pool?”

  “Nature’s grand architect provided it,” he answered simply. “The pool is fed by a thermal underground spring and has been here for centuries. At some time, centuries past, I believe it may have been used as an area of worship or congregation, perhaps even healing. I know I always feel better after I have been in the water here.”

  Angel looked around her at the shadows cast by the subdued lighting and the flickering of the candles. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply before letting the breath go on a long sigh of relaxation. “I see what you mean. There’s an—” She broke off and wrinkled her brow, searching for the right words. “I don’t know, maybe an energy about it, isn’t there? You can feel the longevity and peacefulness of the place simply hanging here in the air. Almost hear the echo of voices long gone.”

  She laughed as if embarrassed by the fancifulness of her thoughts, but he knew what she meant. He felt it himself.

  He nodded. “I thought you might enjoy the pool. It’s a great way to unwind, especially when it’s been a demanding day.”

  “Demanding, yes, you could say that. And I would love to swim here. I’ll just go upstairs to get a swimsuit—”

  “No need, I will let you enjoy the pool in privacy.”

  Angel looked at him from under hooded eyes, her head cocked slightly to one side. “But what about you? Hasn’t today been equally demanding for you also?”

  In the half light it was difficult to see whether she was serious or if, once again, she was teasing him as she had so often these past few days. He settled on the latter, choosing it by preference because in his memory no one had ever had the cheek to mock him to his face before. He found her boldness tantalizing and infuriating in equal measure. And, even more strangely, he found he really liked that.

  “You would like me to swim with you?” he asked, seeking clarification.

  She nodded. “I think it would be an interesting lesson, don’t you?”

  In torment, perhaps. “And what would this lesson achieve?”

  In response, Angel reached up to unfasten the top button at the back of her gown.

  “It would enhance your appreciation of sensual delights. Of the combination of visual stimulation paired with the physical sensation of the water caressing your body. We need not touch, Hawk. You set the boundaries. I will respect them.”

  Would she? Could he? Right now he hated those boundaries, every last one. He watched as she slid her zipper down and eased her dress off her shoulders, exposing a delicate filament of lace, strapless and backless, masquerading as a bra. He was hard in an instant. This had been a stupid idea. He should leave her to her swim, but it was as if his limbs had taken root in the ancient stone floor beneath his feet. And all he could do was watch as she let the dress slither over the rest of her body to drop in a crimson pool at her feet.

  His mouth dried as he followed the curves of her body, the shape of her rib cage, the nip of her waist and the lush roundness of her hips and thighs. Hers was a body made for love, for pleasure. A safe haven in a world of harshness. And he dare not touch her because if he did he would be lost, well and truly and very possibly forever.

  She reached up behind her and unfastened her bra, allowing her full breasts to fall free. He swallowed at the sight of deep pink nipples and watched as, under his heated gaze, they grew tight—their tips rigid points. Thierry’s hands curled into tight balls, every muscle from his forearms to his biceps taut with restraint.

  Heat poured through his body. He should leave now, but arousal urged him to move forward—to touch, to taste. He fought the compulsion with every ounce of strength he had, but even he could not hold back the sound of longing that escaped him as she hooked her thumbs in the sides of her lacy panties and slid them down her legs.

  “Are you just going to stand there?” Angel asked.

  Her voice was husky, sensual—but the soft tremor behind her words belied a nervousness that caught him by surprise. She was a woman no doubt well used to the lasciviousness of male eyes, and yet she blushed before him.

  “For now,” he said through a throat constricted with need.

  “Suit yourself,” she answered with a brief curl of her lips.

  She turned and he found himself captivated by the length of her spine, the dimples at the small of her back and the shape of her buttocks. Was there any part of this woman that didn’t peel away his long-established layers of protocol and decorum and expose, instead, raw hunger in its purest form? It seemed not.

  He watched as Angel found the steps that led into the pool and, captivated, saw her sink deeper and deeper into its warmth. He knew all too well the sensation of the warm, silky water against bare skin. How it teased and caressed the parts of your body that were normally hidden from view. Did she enjoy it—the freedom, that soft caress as it licked centimeter by centimeter up the smooth muscled length of her legs and higher to the soft curve of her inner thighs?


  This was beyond torment, he realized as the muscles holding him rigid with tension screamed for release. But it didn’t stop him from imagining how she felt right now as the water lapped gently at her belly, then higher to stroke the curve of her breasts until she sank right down, obscuring all but the gentle sweep of her shoulders from his view.

  “This is divine,” Angel commented as she did a smooth breast stroke from one end of the pool to the other, leaving a ripple of wake on the water behind her.

  The paleness of her skin shone with an almost iridescent glow beneath the surface of the pool, distorting her image and making her appear intriguingly otherworldly. She turned and dipped her head until she was completely submerged, then rose again and swam toward the edge furthest from him—her long dark hair a black river down her back.

  Burning need battled with disciplined restraint, just as they had done since he’d opened the door of the lodge to see his Angel standing before him. But now, for the first time in his life, need won.

  Somehow, sometime, he made a decision, but he was not consciously aware of it. His clothes had melted from his body. The distance between the edge of the pool and where he stood had disappeared. He entered the water in a smooth slide of muscle and movement, gliding toward Angel as she sat on the ledge on the side of the pool, her legs still dangling in the water like some earth-bound mermaid.

  She was a goddess here in this grotto. Her skin shimmering with the moisture that clung to her skin and which refracted light from the candles around them as if each one was a jewel.

  Thierry pulled himself up between her legs, reaching for her as if he had every right to take her, every right to draw her beautiful body to his and every right to take her lips in a kiss that spoke volumes as to his hunger for her.

  He was lost in a maelstrom of impressions that chased through his mind—of her acquiescence as she flowed against him, of her mouth responding to his kiss, of the sounds of pleasure from her throat, of the gentle drift of her fingertips across the top of his shoulders.

  He kissed her and probed the soft recesses of her mouth with his tongue, tasting her and knowing that one taste would never be enough. His hands went to her breasts, cupping the full warm flesh with his fingers, kneading them gently and teasing the hard points of her arousal. She moaned and strained against him, her body slick and wet and warm and driving him crazy in the best way imaginable.

  He bent his head to take one nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue around the distended tip before gently grazing it with his teeth. A shudder ran through her body and he felt an answering response in his own. How had he managed to deny himself these pleasures for so very long? And how was he to stop now he’d allowed the floodgates of desire to open? The question was fleeting and all thoughts of bringing this to a halt were swiftly quelled as her fingers raked through his hair—her hands holding him to her as he licked and nipped and suckled at her.

  Her hips undulated against him, her heated core brushing against the hardened length of his shaft. He wouldn’t have believed it possible but he swelled even more under her gentle assault on his body.

  Thierry let his hands drift down over her rib cage, past the sweep of her waist and the curve of her hip and then around to the fullness of her buttocks. Gripping her he pulled her firmly against him and groaned at the sweet shaft of pleasure that pieced him. But he still didn’t feel close enough.

  “You are a torment to man, a seductress simply by your existence,” he murmured against her throat before gently nipping at her skin.

  “And you are everything I have ever wanted,” Angel sighed in response.

  Her words, so simple yet so disingenuous, struck him to his heart and he gave himself over to the joy they engendered. At this moment she was the foundation of his existence. Here, in this natural grotto, in the heated spring water that felt like silk and seduction against a man’s skin, they were locked in a world apart from the reality that lingered outside.

  “And you, my sweet Angel,” he said, kissing her once again and drawing her lower lips gently between his teeth before releasing it again. “You are so much more than I could imagine wanting. Ever.”

  His hands were still at her buttocks and he edged her slightly farther forward until the tip of his penis brushed against her entrance. All Thierry could think about was the woman in his arms, the need that pulsed and demanded as if it was the most fundamental part of his existence. She tipped her pelvis and he slid just inside her. They both gasped at the contact and Thierry reveled in the sensation of her.

  He couldn’t stop himself. His entire body shook as demand overtook him, his senses filled with the feel of her in his arms, the soft sounds of her ragged breathing and the incredible heat that generated where their bodies joined together. He thrust forward, but instead of sliding fully into her body he met with resistance. It didn’t immediately make sense to him, but then again, right now, nothing did but the driving need to push past that barrier and find the fulfillment his body craved.

  Confusion clouded his mind, pushed past the roar of desire that had driven him to this point, until the confusion suddenly cleared and realization dawned.

  His Angel was a virgin.

  Fourteen

  “Please, don’t stop now,” Mila urged him.

  Her fingers curled into his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin as ripples of pleasure surpassed the burning fullness of his penetration and cascaded through her body. But instead he withdrew.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “You...you’re a virgin,” he said as if he could scarcely believe the words.

  “As are you, are you not?”

  She searched his eyes for some response but all she could see was shock reflected back at her. Eventually he nodded.

  “Does it not make this sweeter?” she asked, sliding her hands down his body and slipping them around his waist, pulling him back against her.

  She felt her body ease to accommodate his length and fullness and she wanted to move against him, to welcome him deeper into her body. She lifted her face to Thierry’s and kissed him, sliding her tongue between his lips in a simulation of what she wanted him to continue.

  “Touch me,” she whispered against his lips. “Touch me, there, with your fingers. Feel yourself inside me.”

  He did as she asked and she saw his pupils dilate even more as his fingers touched that special place where they joined. She gasped as his knuckles brushed her clitoris.

  “Yes,” she urged, “and there, too.”

  “Like this?” he asked, repeating the movement.

  “Yes, oh yes.”

  The ripples that had begun with his possession of her intensified with each stroke and she moved her hips in tiny circles, urging him to follow her movements with his hand. He was a quick study and, as pleasure suffused her, her inner muscles began to clench and release, to encourage him to push deeper, to conquer the barrier between them.

  And then that barrier was gone, and so was she—on a wave of passion so intense it took her breath completely away as paroxysms of pleasure coiled and released over and over, spreading from her core to her extremities and making her arch her throat and shout his name so that it echoed back to them from the cavernous ceiling.

  Thierry’s hips pumped with increasing speed, water lapping all around them, until he, too, reached his peak, the muscles on his back taut with tension and his entire body straining as he surged and surged yet again.

  “Ah, my Angel, I love you!” he groaned against her throat as with one final push he came deep inside her.

  It was sometime later when he moved again and Mila finally became aware of the pressure of the smooth stones at her back. She shifted to ease her weight off the uncomfortable surface and reached for Thierry as he began to pull away.

  “In a hurry to leave me now?” she asked, try
ing to inject a note of playful banter into her voice.

  It was, perhaps, an impossible goal to attempt to keep the atmosphere light between them. They’d just been passionately intimate with one another and, judging by the look on Thierry’s face, he was already beginning to regret it.

  “Hawk?” she asked, prompting him again. “Is everything all right?”

  “No,” he said fiercely pulling free of her touch and pushing back in the water to where she could not reach him. “Everything is not all right. We shouldn’t have done this. I gave in to weakness even though I’m promised to another woman. I’ve destroyed forever the one thing I wished to hold sacred between her and myself.”

  There was a wealth of self-loathing in his voice and she couldn’t bear to hear it. “But—” she started.

  “There are no buts,” he said firmly, cutting her off. The self-loathing was now tinged with a bitterness that brought tears to Mila’s eyes. “Don’t you understand? By making love to you, I have become the man I least wanted to be. How can I go ahead with my marriage to the woman I have been promised to for the past seven years when I love you? It would make everything I believe in, everything I am, a lie.”

  Mila remained where she was, stunned into total silence as his words, riddled with pain and torment, echoed into obscurity in the air around them. Thierry finished crossing the pool and rose from the water. Rivulets cascaded down his back and over his firm buttocks and even now, in this awful atmosphere of disillusion and self-loathing, her body responded with desire at the sight of him.

  “Hawk! Stop. Wait, please?” she begged, moving to follow. She staggered up the steps that led to the edge and reached for him, but her fingers found nothing but air. “Hawk, please. Listen to me. I love you, too.”

  He shook his head. “That only makes it worse. I am a king. I cannot love you or accept your love—the entire situation is impossible. Knowing how I felt about you I should have sent you away the moment you arrived, but I didn’t. In another lifetime, another world, perhaps we could have been more to one another, but we live here and now.”