by Sylvia Day
Justin arched a brow.
Sophie looked deep into his eyes, searching. “Have you ever contemplated walking on the surface of the moon?”
The other brow rose to meet the first.
“I never have,” she continued, her tongue flickering out to wet her lips. “Not until this afternoon when grand-mère suggested that perhaps you once cared for me beyond mere friendship and I attempted to conceive of something more impossible.”
“Sophie—”
Holding up a hand, she halted his speech. “If I wounded you, I never meant to. I was simply unaware. It never occurred to me that a man such as you would ever find me . . . would ever find anything—”
“Sophie—”
“You were always so damn perfect, so poised, so rigid . . . so . . . so . . . so arrogant!” She pointed an agitated and accusing finger at him. “Always ordering me about and correcting me and . . . and . . . and—”
Justin glanced heavenward, then snatched her to him and kissed her full on her indignant mouth.
“Mmpf . . . !” A weak protest died before it was born. She melted into him, all soft warm passionate woman.
Heat flared instantly, burning across his skin and setting his blood on fire. Cupping her nape, he held her still, fitting his mouth to hers. Taking it. Possessing it. As he should have done years ago.
Her hands pushed at his shoulders, then slid up and over them, thrusting into his hair. He growled, maddened by the simple contact, aroused to bursting, his cock hard and throbbing. Cupping her hip, he urged her closer, grinding his erection into the soft flesh of her lower belly. She surged into him in response, feverish and ardent, her body writhing in his grasp. Her grip on his scalp began to hurt and he welcomed the pain. It grounded him. Otherwise, he feared he would pull her to the floor, push up her skirts, and show her how far beyond friendship his feelings went.
Sophie yanked her head to the side, panting. “I cannot breathe.”
His mouth moved to her throat, then to her shoulder.
“Justin.” Her hands roamed over the length of his back, caressing through the fine linen of his shirt. “You entice me to give what I shouldn’t.”
The sob in her voice struck him with the force of a blow to the gut and pained him as deeply.
With a growl, he pushed her away.
They stood apart, breathing harshly, flushed and disheveled. He ran his hands through his hair, feeling the sweat that dampened the roots. His entire frame was tight, tense, hard, his jaw clenched.
“I am at a loss,” he said, his hands fisting. “I cannot have you, and yet I cannot conceive of not having you. Not when this”—he gestured between them—“is all I can think about.”
“I am so confused.” Her green eyes were dark and fathomless. “I feel . . . for you . . .”
“Say no more. I am a man, not a saint.”
“I loved him. He made me happy.”
“It pleases me to know that you were content.”
“I know it does.” Her hand lifted and came over her heart. “I would not change my past because it gave me both beautiful memories and my son, and yet all day I have been haunted by imaginings of what could have been. Where would we be in our lives if I had known?”
“All this time, I thought you were aware and chose differently regardless.”
“No.” She held her hand out to him, but he did not take it, afraid of what he would do if they touched again. Her arm lowered slowly. “I have no wish to hurt you.”
“This is not your fault, Sophie. Any guilt you might feel is unwarranted.”
“There is no way for us to be together, is there?”
“No way that we could both live with,” he said gruffly.
Cursing, he turned from her and crossed to the grate. He rested his arm on the mantel and stared into the fire, willing his burning blood to cool. He could taste her on his lips, smell her on his clothing. She was in the palm of his hand, yet he could not hold on to her. “I will leave in the morning.”
“I cannot run you from your own home.”
“I prefer it.” His eyes closed. “I would smell you here. See you here. Want you here.”
“Why? Why me? I make every misstep and you walk true.”
Justin looked over his shoulder. She stood where he had left her, watching him, so heartrendingly beautiful in her yearning. “Who can explain the attraction between opposites?”
Her lower lip quivered, yet she stood tall and proud, undaunted by the unkind turns in her life. He wished he could shelter her from more pain and tragedy, but fate was cruel to him as well, mocking him for his youthful caution. He should have made clear how he felt years ago, and left no room for doubt or misunderstanding. All this time, he had thought she was never meant to be his, that she was not capable of deeper affection for him. Now he realized that he might have had his heart’s desire, if only he had disregarded his pride and opened himself to her.
“You should return to your room,” he murmured, looking away, resigned.
Silence filled the space between them. Only the sounds of the crackling fire and his rapid breathing offered relief.
“Justin . . . ?”
He heard the soft plea in her voice and his back tensed.
She cleared her throat, causing his mouth to twitch. He knew that sound well. It was the sound of her gathering courage.
It was also the herald to mischief.
“I cannot be your wife or mistress,” she said in a low, husky voice that warmed his blood like strong wine. “But for tonight . . . I can be your l–lover.”
Justin spun to face her, flushing with avid lust and soul-deep longing. “Bloody hell.”
Her lovely face took on that obstinate cast he adored. The tapers around the room burnished her, their golden glow gleaming off her creamy skin and glossy curls. “I want . . . I want . . .”
“Christ,” he muttered, lacing his fingers at the back of his neck, “I know what you want. Do not give voice to it, or I may not have the strength to resist giving it to you.”
Sophie stared at the marquess displayed in the alluring pose, his throat bared to her, his shoulders so broad, his arms flexing powerfully. She licked her lips, and moved toward him. “Why resist?”
“You owe me nothing.”
“This is not about the past. This is about now, this moment, when I feel as if something in me is dying. I came to you tonight knowing this visit would lead to farewell, and yet now that we are agreed, I mourn. I haven’t the strength to sleep alone tonight, aware that in the morning you will leave and I will not see you again.”
His gaze narrowed. “You ask too much from me, Sophie. Better to wonder how it would be, than to know.”
“Is it? Would it not be better to live on real memories, than it would be to live on fantasy?” She rounded the wingback.
“And what of tomorrow?”
“We can worry then.”
He snorted and dropped his hands to his lean hips. “It is exactly that sort of thinking that lands you into trouble so often.”
Lowering her voice, she moved with what she prayed was a seductive sway to her hips. “This time, I hope it lands me into your bed.”
The groan that rumbled in his throat made her breasts swell further until they ached.
“I have a confession, my lord.”
He waited. Alert. A predator crouched for the pounce. Sophie shivered, then embraced the driving urge she had to touch him, hold him, clasp him deep within her. Here, in his lair, with its earthy colors and dark, masculine appeal.
Dressed only in his shirtsleeves and trousers, he revealed a glimpse of the man he was in his private hours. A man she could have had. She regretted the loss, although she would not alter her past decisions.
“You see, my lord”—she stepped up to him, coming to a halt a mere inch away—“your supreme self-possession is an irresistible lure. I want to crawl beneath it, see inside you, slip under your skin.”
Lifting her hand, she set it over his
heart and felt its frantic tempo. She was in much the same state; short of breath with raging blood. “When we were younger, I would sometimes shock you deliberately just to see beneath your exterior.”
“You have always been under my skin,” he murmured, pulling her into his embrace, where she wanted to be. He seemed to consider her carefully, then he cupped her cheek, staring down at her with a starkly intense gaze. “Be certain, love. Once we walk down this path, there is no turning back.”
Sophie soaked in the warmth of his hard body and the rich, spicy scent that clung to him. Just days ago, the thought of him had set her insides aflutter. She felt the same now, but for an entirely different reason. It was no longer the anxiety of reacquainting oneself with someone who had once been dear. It was anticipation and pure, heady desire.
“I have always admired you,” she confessed, nuzzling into his palm. “My life has been in such disarray since the death of my parents, but you were so solid and immutable. Even as I provoked you, you strengthened and motivated me. Over the years, I often found myself imagining what you would do and considered that carefully before acting. I would not be the woman I am today had you not been in my life.”
Heat flared in his eyes, and he pressed warm, firm lips to her forehead. “I am glad you thought of me.”
“I never forgot you. And now . . . how easily you have turned my childhood awe into a woman’s fascination. I was told you had the appearance of a god amongst men, but the tales failed to convey how seductive you are.”
He snorted.
“Scoff all you like,” she said. “It’s true. Your voice makes me shiver and your presence inspires shockingly carnal musings.”
“Do you imagine my mouth on you?” he asked roughly. “Everywhere? Do you imagine being taken on your hands and knees? Or bound and restrained for my pleasure?”
Her exhale was shaky and she clung to him for balance. Dear God, he sounded so primitive, blatantly defying his civilized exterior and reputation.
“I will know you, Sophie,” he warned darkly. “I will know every inch of you, every curve and crevice. I will know you as no one else has ever known you. I will own you. Are you prepared to accept that?”
Sophie wondered at the change in him, the sudden seriousness of his bearing. “I want to be with you. However you would have me.”
She turned her head and pressed her lips into his palm. The flutters in her stomach were riotous, causing her to quiver against him, but she was not afraid.
“My love,” he murmured, his gaze bright with fierce adoration.
Following her heart, she surged into him, her lips bumping awkwardly into his.
A low, delighted chuckle rumbled in his chest at her eagerness. Then he cupped her nape and fitted his mouth over hers. Perfectly.
Sophie stopped breathing, arrested by the kiss. Her lips tingled and her ears rang, her skin flushed and her toes curled. As the world spun behind her closed lids, she leaned heavily into him. He paused, his lips moving along her cheekbone to her ear.
“Breathe, love,” he admonished in a deepened tone that made her breasts swell.
His hand came up and squeezed the full, aching flesh. She inhaled sharply as he kneaded her, and then he took her mouth again, teasing her with gentle flicks of his tongue. Dizzy and unbearably aroused, she opened wider with a moan, shivering as he accepted the invitation with lush, deep licks.
The smell of his skin intoxicated her. She was beginning to love that unique combination of bergamot and tobacco. She already loved the feel of his body, so big and powerful. He dwarfed her, made her feel as if she was enveloped in warm, tangible safety. He was not pulling her under or drowning her. He was revealing the depth of his desire, and she was empowered by his admission.
With his hand on the curve of her hip and a low sound of encouragement, Justin urged her closer. Unresisting, Sophie slipped her fingers into the silky strands of his golden hair. The simple touch seemed to affect him strongly, made him shudder, and crush her slender body roughly to his hardness. Their mouths sealed together, so that each labored breath was shared.
Heat swept across her skin in a prickling wave. Perspiration dampened her forehead. She began to writhe against him, goaded by a physical sense of urgency she had never felt before. He hummed soothingly and attempted to calm her, but there was no help for it. She wanted his bare skin pressed to hers, his body straining over and inside hers.
Her arms fell to his hips, then her hands slid up the length of his spine. The muscles of his back tensed to rock-hardness beneath her fingertips, despite the linen that separated her touch from his flesh. Her returning kiss became more feverish, the rushing of blood in her ears near deafening.
All the while his mouth drank from hers, the frantic movements of her body in stark contrast to the deep, luxurious pace of his kiss. He cupped her buttocks and rocked her into him, the lewd, blatant carnality of the gesture shocking her and inciting her further. Tension coiled tightly in her womb, becoming a deep hunger that fueled her growing desperation.
“Easy,” he rasped, gentling her with calming strokes of his large hands. “Or we won’t make it to the bed.”
Part of Sophie’s mind comprehended that he was threatening to make love to her in this very spot. Her body, however, clearly felt the venue was not an issue, blindly seeking to appease the insane need she felt to eat the man up like a tasty dessert. To nibble on all the hard lengths of muscle she felt beneath her palms, and to lick across what she imagined was rough satin skin. She nipped at his jaw and he groaned, the provocative sound filled with lustful longing. Tugging at his clothing, Sophie attempted to work her way to the man within.
“Sophie.” Emotion thickened the normally clipped accents of his voice. He continued to fondle her breast and she whimpered as she grew wet with desire.
His thumb stroked across her thrusting nipple, and she released a thready cry. Her knees gave out and his arm at her waist tightened, locking her against him. His erection strained into her lower belly, goading her to rock into it. His responding growl excited her unbearably. The expert manipulation of her breast became more aggressive as one thickly muscled thigh intruded between her legs.
“Justin,” she breathed.
“Tell me what you want.”
“You.”
Lifting her feet from the floor, he carried her to the bed.
CHAPTER 5
Justin found his hands shaking as he worked to release the buttons that held the sapphire gown to Sophie’s lush body. She was fidgeting with impatience, as she was often wont to do, and he smiled, his chest filling with a deep, tender ache.
“Hurry,” she urged, glancing over her shoulder at him, her green eyes heavy-lidded with passion.
“You still have no notion how to wait for the things you want.” He softened his statement with a quick, hard kiss to the top of her shoulder.
“Would you prefer me to have patience when I want you?”
“I have waited a lifetime.” Sliding his hands into the gaping back of her gown, he cupped her shoulders, then pushed the garment off and onto the floor. “Perhaps you should know a little of what it feels like to want something and be denied.”
She turned into his embrace, clad only in a sheer chemise and silk stockings. He inhaled harshly at the feel of her pressed against him. “I never denied you,” she murmured, nipping at his chin with her teeth.
Crushing her soft curves into his painfully aroused body, Justin buried his face in her short-cropped curls and breathed her in. The smell of her was delicious and he laughed softly.
Sophie pulled back slightly to look up at him.
“The way you smell appeals to me,” he replied to her silent query.
She blushed, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. “What would you do if you were truly allergic?”
“Make love to you in a bath. Or pin my nose.”
“You would not!”
“You doubt me?” Cupping her buttocks he tugged her into him, pressing the thr
obbing length of his cock against her.
Her gaze lowered to his throat and her hands lifted to pluck at his collar. “Would you . . . undress for me?”
“Of course.” Justin smiled. “Will you assist me?”
Nodding, she reached for the placket of his trousers.
“Ah, love,” he murmured, exquisitely tormented by her proximity and the knowledge that in moments she would be naked and arching beneath him. “You always did move directly to the point.”
“I want to see you.” She was nervous. He could see it in the way she worried her lower lip between her teeth. But she was eager, too. Open. Curious. He cupped her face in his hands.
“I am yours,” he promised, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. “You have no need to be uncertain with me.”
He tensed as the backs of her fingers brushed tantalizingly over the bulge of his erection. He was so hard for her it was painful and he groaned in relief when his cock sprang free of its confinement, coming to rest heavily within her palms.
“Is this mine, too?” she whispered, tracing the veins that pulsed along the length of him.
“Does it please you?” He grit his teeth as she stroked him with both hands.
“Yes. It suits you.”
Justin managed a choked laugh. “How so?”
“It is large, proud, and arrogant.”
“How the devil can a penis be arrogant?”
Sophie looked up at him from beneath long, dark lashes. Her thumb slid over the head of his cock, the journey eased by the drop of semen that collected there. “Look how ready he is. I am not certain he will wait for me.”
“Continue fondling me like that and he might not.”
He began to disrobe, but she did not release him, her fingers caressing him with such gentleness he was amazed he didn’t come. By the time he was bared to her, perspiration covered his skin in a fine sheen and his seed leaked copiously, coating her hands.
“Undress,” he said urgently, tugging his aching ballocks down to stave off an imminent release. He watched in an agony of lust as she removed her stockings, then frowned as she crawled on top of the bed. “The chemise, as well.”