“Maybe that’s exactly what you need.”
His laugh was short and bitter. “Not from you.” He looked away, and repeated softly, “Not from you.”
His words hurt more than Bliss would have ever imagined possible. He was like the tide, pushing her away and pulling her back, needing her but not wanting her, leaving her emotions in a constant state of upheaval.
“Caine…” She laid her hand on his forearm, but he jerked it away.
“Go,” he bit out in an icy voice. “Now, before I do something I’ll regret.” He allowed her only a moment to comply, perhaps never really intending to give her the chance to elude him before his hands gripped her upper arms, his fingers digging into her flesh, dragging her forward.
His mouth came down hard on hers, brutal, wanting to punish her rather than allow her to see his pain. He did not care that they stood in the shadow of a church, or that the vicar and his wife might see them.
Bliss pushed at his shoulders, struggling to break free, but his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her immobile as he walked them backwards, shoving her up against a tree, his hard, heated frame molding tightly against her as his hand came up and squeezed her breast.
Even as she fought him, her body arched beneath his touch, her nipples hardening, pressing wantonly against his palm. His thumb scraped over the tight point, and a moan welled up in her throat.
She tore her mouth from his. “Caine…please…”
He kept up the torment for another moment, then with a muffled curse he shoved away from her, leaving the tree as her only support. Her legs were weak from the force of his assault—as well as the desire he had so easily stirred inside her.
He raked a hand through his hair and she saw it tremble, telling her that he was not as cold and unaffected as he wanted her to believe. The vicar’s wife had bade Bliss to understand him, but at what cost? Whatever was brewing between them was growing into a madness that seemed to be spiraling out of control, and she didn’t know how to stop it.
“Caine,” she repeated softly, her appeal almost lost in the rise of the wind and roar of the waves below them. “Talk to me.”
“‘You can’t even see your own destruction when it’s standing right in front of you.” He faced her, his eyes without emotion. “Come near me again, and I promise I’ll give you what you’re asking for.”
“What are you saying?”
“Jesus, you really are a virgin. Fine. Let me spell it out for you. I’ll screw you, your ladyship. Tempt me again with your false offers of kindness, and I’ll give you all the gratitude your tight little body can take.”
She could see in his eyes that he was purposely trying to hurt her, to push her away. “My offer is not false,” she said in a shaky voice. “I want to help you.”
“Help me?” A savage smile twisted his lips as his gaze crudely raked her form. “Then lie down in the grass and spread your legs.” He walked toward her until he was towering over her, and leaned forward until his breath warmed the flesh beneath her ear. “They say I’m good. Would you like to find out?”
Bliss pushed him back. “What drives you to be so cruel?”
“Do you fancy me a cause, lady? A lost soul to be saved?” His mouth curved in a grim line. “I’m afraid you’re too late.”
“I don’t believe you.” He regarded her with so predatory a look, her face flushed. She forced herself to return his gaze. “No man whose countenance reflects such despair is without remorse. Should you need a friend, I’m here. Should you need a confidante, I’ll listen.”
“Is that what this is all about?” he said derisively. “Being my friend? Or is it simply that you want to hear the details of my father’s cowardly demise? How he jumped from that cliff, his body so mangled when it was pulled up from the rocks below that his casket had to remain closed? Does that appease your insatiable curiosity?” His hands were fisted so tightly at his sides that his knuckles shone white.
“Let’s move on to other matters now, shall we? Like how I’d feel between your silken thighs, my rod sliding in and out of you, your breasts quivering beneath my hands, my lips. Does that melt you, sweet? Do you find your body responding?”
The images his words evoked wrenched the breath from her lungs, and her body did respond. He was a master at this game, after all. But she would not give him the satisfaction he sought.
“No,” she said, her voice barely audible.
“Liar.” His gaze slid away from her, locking on some point behind her. He muttered a curse beneath his breath.
Bliss turned and found the vicar and his wife standing near the rectory, their faces pale and concerned. When Bliss looked back at Caine, something close to regret had settled over his face.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her away. “Where are we going?” she asked, struggling to keep up with him.
He didn’t respond, but his pace slowed a bit and his hold on her hand eased. Yet she knew he would not let her go. There were forces at work within him that she could not begin to fathom.
Within moments, they were following a winding path behind the vicarage, enclosing them in silence and a sense of peace. They walked without speaking. The path opened into an enclosed valley. Within was a village made up of cob-walled, thatched cottages and little slate-roofed houses with their own gardens, all jumbled together as if they had been thrown down accidentally. It was quaint and lovely.
Bliss glanced up at Caine. The way he looked at that moment, like a child who’d lost his way and come home at last, tugged at her heart.
An old woman waved to them then, her eyes alight, a warm smile wreathing her timeworn face as she beckoned them over.
“Stay here,” Caine told her, his eyes warning Bliss not to disobey. Then he walked over to the old woman, who patted him on the hand in a motherly fashion.
The two of them stood together for a moment, the woman doing all the talking, and gesturing to something inside the house. Caine stepped into the cottage and Bliss, curious, moved closer. She caught a glimpse of an old man lying in bed, and a younger woman, possibly his daughter, sitting at his side.
The man smiled weakly up at Caine, his eyes, like that of the woman Bliss suspected was his wife, glowing with happiness at seeing him. A moment later, the man was besieged by a coughing fit, a hacking bark that wracked his entire spare frame with spasms.
The faces of both the man’s wife and daughter blanched. His wife leaned over to try to get him to drink something when the episode subsided, while his daughter held his hand and dabbed his brow with a cold cloth.
Caine stood rigid by the man’s bedside, yet when he thought no one was watching, he briefly closed his eyes, the anguish evident to Bliss.
The man on the bed drifted off to sleep, clearly too weary for lengthy discourse, the occasional cough jarring his body as Caine stepped to the side with the man’s wife.
Though the shadows of the cottage’s dim interior shrouded most of Caine’s face and body, Bliss caught a glimpse of him pressing money into the woman’s hands. She stood in stunned disbelief. She had not taken Caine for a man who cared about other people’s troubles. His world seemed wrapped up in disillusionment and cynicism.
The woman shook her head and tried to put the money back in his hand, but he curled his fingers over hers, the gesture speaking volumes.
The woman’s head slowly lifted and she wrapped her arms around Caine’s neck, making him bend down so that she could press a kiss to his cheek. The stiffness of his bearing told Bliss that he was uncomfortable with the gratitude.
He gently disengaged himself from the woman’s embrace, haltingly accepting a hug from her daughter before stalking out of the cottage, leaving Bliss to follow or get left behind.
They continued along the path, where the trees gave way to a fir wood. Bliss caught far-off glimpses of the ocean through the ruddy trunks and great dark fans of the branches. The scent of pine needles and the sea stirred around them.
At the end of the path was a cleari
ng, and down a short slope lay a crystalline pool of water. Leaves shaded the glen from the sun’s bright rays, dappling the ground with subdued, mysterious light.
Caine guided her down the incline to stand at the water’s edge. Only the barest breeze shirred the surface, their reflections rippling on tiny waves. It was exactly the way she would have pictured the Garden of Eden.
Bliss glanced up at Caine and her breath caught in her throat at the intensity in his gaze as he stared down at her, branding her with heat. He appeared every inch the voluptuary, at home in his lushly wooded seraglio.
“Why did you bring me here?”
He took hold of her hand and tugged her forward, his voice a dark, husky rumble as he replied, “Because I intend to make love to you.”
Eleven
’Tis a thing impossible to frame
Conceptions equal to the soul’s desires;
And the most difficult of tasks to “keep”
Heights which the soul is competent to gain.
William Wordsworth
Caine’s words ignited a warmth inside Bliss that fanned out, and she realized what she was feeling, what she had forced to the background time and again.
Her own desire.
She couldn’t deny the attraction anymore. But the need Caine aroused in her wasn’t simply a response to his immense physical beauty, that smoldering virility that clung to every sinuous curve of his body, or the dark hunger in his eyes that made her think he could lose himself in her.
It was all of that and more. It was the glimpse of the man behind the walls he had built, awakening something fierce and heartrending inside her.
He haunted her. It was shameful and confounding. What she felt…it was nearly unbearable. But she couldn’t allow any of that to matter, because it could not be like this.
“No,” she said softly, backing away from him. “You won’t make love to me.”
He hunted her lazily, his eyes conveying who would emerge the victor. “Who’s to stop me?”
“You won’t force me.”
“No?” The word was a taunt, as was the hand that skimmed up her side to boldly cup her breast, flooding her with sensations she prayed he didn’t see. “You seem to forget that I take what I want.”
“But you won’t stoop to rape.”
A humorless grin tipped up his lips. “It wouldn’t be rape, my lady. I’d have you panting for it in short order.”
Bliss raised a trembling chin. “You, sir, possess tremendous arrogance.”
“Sometimes,” he said in a low, dark drawl, “arrogance is all a man has. Now kiss me, damn you.”
Bliss held her ground, pressing her hands against his shoulders. “What was the matter with the man back in the village?”
Caine’s arm slid around her waist and tightened. “None of your business.” He leaned forward to kiss her, but Bliss turned her head.
“Was he ill?”
Fury flickered in his eyes, but it seemed directed inward rather than at her. “He’s dying. Now leave off.” He pressed his mouth into her neck, nuzzling her.
“You gave his wife money,” she said, trying not to respond to the overwhelming heat he was creating. “I saw you.”
“Be quiet.”
“This bothers you. Why can’t you admit it?”
“Quiet, I said.” He kneaded her breast. “I’m tired of this bloody cat-and-mouse game.”
Bliss put her hand over his, trying to push it down, though the woman inside her demanded that she give in, that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. “Maybe you are tired of it, but you still won’t force me.”
“God damn it! Stop saying that.”
“Why? Because it makes you see that you’re not as dishonorable as you want everyone to believe?”
“I am dishonorable.”
“Then take me. I dare you.” Bliss knew she was playing a dangerous game, knew she could never hope to win if he overpowered her. She saw the dark glint in his eyes and recognized a moment too late that he was out to prove something.
“As you wish.” His mouth came down on hers, his tongue forcing her lips open, slipping in to mate with hers as one hand slid over her buttocks, pulling her harder against his erection.
His other hand locked in her hair, tipping her face up. His kiss hurt; he meant it to. She could taste the anger in it, but hot need had surged up the moment he touched her, leaving only awareness, only piercing sensation, as the tips of her swollen breasts molded against his chest, craving the feel of his hand.
As though understanding what she wanted, he cupped her breast and caressed her nipple through her clothes, a growl building in his throat as the material impeded access to what he wanted.
He deftly freed the buttons on her bodice from their moorings and then untied the ribbon holding her chemise closed. His eyes were burning coals as he stared down at her, challenge in their depths as his hand slid across the exposed flesh before slipping under the lacy material to stroke her.
Bliss caught her lip between her teeth to keep from moaning as he toyed with her nipple, the few remaining buttons coming undone, her dress pooling at her waist, leaving her completely bare to his sexual regard.
“God,” he said in a hoarse voice, “why did you have to be so damn beautiful?” The question seemed both compliment and curse, as though he didn’t want to acknowledge his attraction for her.
He lowered her to the ground, his lips closing around her nipple and suckling. Bliss moaned low in her throat and tossed her head back. It felt so good.
He glanced up at her, a feverish light in his eyes. “Am I forcing you, my lady?”
Mute with desire, she shook her head and arched her back, ashamed as she silently begged him not to stop. With a gleam of satisfaction, his mouth closed over her nipple, pulling and then licking, over and over again. Her other nipple was tormented as his forefinger flicked back and forth, a throbbing ache centered between her thighs.
With no pretense of gentleness, he rucked up her skirts, gripped her thighs and dragged her forward against him, searing her with rough male heat.
He cupped a hand between her thighs, his fingers pressing against her as he found the opening in her pantalets, separating the moist folds of her most intimate place and finding her aching pleasure point.
He began to massage the nub slowly, then in circles, teasing her, his eyes burning into the very depths of her as he watched her face, holding her gaze captive.
“You’re so wet,” he said in a sensual rasp.
“Don’t…” She shook her head, not wanting him to weave any more of a spell around her than he already had.
“Don’t what?” The finger between her thighs feathered over her sensitive flesh, barely touching her, taunting her, her body yearning for him not to stop.
“Please, Caine…I…” Coherent thought left her as he leaned down and laved her nipple.
“Tell me what you want, love. I’ll give it to you.”
Bliss rocked her head back and forth, a groan spilling from her lips as he gently scraped his nail over her sensitive peak. Then he stopped, and she nearly cried out.
“Do you like what I’m doing?”
She felt like the most primitive of animals, writhing there in the grass, what remained of her rational mind telling her not to say anything, knowing with the uttering of the words that he would own some part of her soul. And yet she could not stop herself.
“Yes…”
He smiled to himself and kneaded her breast, pushing the tip high before drawing it into his mouth, wringing moans from deep inside her. Then he eased back and blew a warm breath across the turgid pebble, making it pucker and swell, his wicked mouth so close.
“Should I kiss the tip, like this…?” He placed tender kisses on her nipple that were wicked and erotic. “Or suck, like this?” His beautiful mouth closed over a taut peak and tugged, sending a wave of heat spiraling downward.
Bliss knew he wanted her to beg for every seductive touch. And she would, if
she must. “Suck.”
“Hard or soft?”
“Soft.”
“With my tongue?”
Mortified by how desperately she wanted him, she could only nod. His long, silky hair fell on her, an erotic caress across her heated flesh. Bliss threaded her fingers through it, holding him close as his hot mouth sweetly tortured her sensitive tips, creating ripples of ecstasy everywhere he touched.
He wanted something from her, something more than just her total surrender. But she was afraid to look too closely, afraid she’d realize that she was just another conquest.
She caught only the briefest glimpse of wickedness in his expression as he looked up at her…before sliding down her body, until his dark head was positioned between her thighs.
Her back arched as his tongue speared into the heart of her like a hot flame, pressing in and out, then skimming up her inner lips. The first touch of that dark fire on her engorged tip made her writhe against him and hold his head there. He chuckled darkly, enjoying the power he held over her as his arms pinned hers to the ground while he licked and sucked and stroked her over and over again, his fingers rolling her nipples.
A driving need for something, a fulfillment she didn’t understand, clawed at her, and on the verge of her discovery, he stopped his sensual assault.
Bliss whimpered, her body shuddering as she opened her eyes and found him watching her, not allowing her to look away as his tongue flicked the very tip of her swollen sex, a bolt of heat making her moan.
“Watch,” he gruffly ordered.
She understood his intentions a moment too late, her reactions slowed by the heavy languor he had created, an aborted plea whispering from her lips as she reached down to grab his hand, but not soon enough to stop him from inserting his finger inside her, invading her, bringing the intimacy to another level.
Bliss squirmed, hating the feel of that rough invasion and loving it at the same time, wanting him to stop but wishing he would go on.
“Christ.” He closed his eyes and pressed further into her, his face ragged, a muscle working in his jaw as he slid another finger in, making slow circular motions inside her as his thumb massaged her tight bud, bringing her to the pinnacle again, her entire body balanced on the edge, and holding her there, just there, making her squirm before starting over.
The Pleasure Seekers Page 12