by Darcy Burke
“You will make this up to me.” He smiled and took hold of her hand. Pressing a kiss to it, he added, “In my chamber later tonight.” Still holding her hand, he opened the door and stepped outside. “Let’s join the feast.” Walking briskly toward the merrymaking, he glanced back at the siren of his fantasies. “Eat quickly.”
Chapter Eighteen
Some distance away, the rest of the island continued with the celebration, but in the privacy of Simon’s chamber, Angelica watched as he closed the door.
They were finally alone.
Anticipation gripped her.
Conscious of her cold fingers, she clasped her hands together, trying to warm them. One hand was warmer than the other. It was the hand he’d held as he led her up the stairs to his room.
She took in a quiet breath and let it out slowly, trying to ignore her pounding heart.
He watched her from the door, his head slightly cocked. Strands of dark hair rested on one perfect ebony brow, creating such dramatic contrast with his light blue eyes. He was far too handsome. Far too confident. And he had a way of drawing her to him, heart, body, and soul.
Dear God, had she set herself up for inevitable heartache? How realistic was it to hope that over the next few weeks he would fully engage his heart? What if he held her at arm’s length emotionally the entire month? In all the time she’d known him, he’d offered her little personal information. He was even better at keeping secrets and distance than she had been.
She forced back the doubts. He would be all hers for the next few weeks. It was inevitable that they would grow closer. But would she be able to get close enough to claim his heart?
He smiled and slowly advanced. Her stomach fluttered.
His presence beside her during the feast had made it impossible for her to eat. The occasional brush of his thigh, the heat of his regard, and the intermittent caress of his hand on her arm had kept her senses on alert and her body quivering in anticipation for what would follow the meal.
And now he was looking at her with the same desire that had been in his eyes all evening.
He stopped before her, their bodies all but touching.
With a gentle stroke of his fingers over her shoulder, he picked up one of her cascading tresses. Silently, he studied it as it curled naturally around his finger. Looking into her eyes, he brushed the lock of her hair against his lips.
She shivered.
“Are you cold?” His voice was low and soft in the stillness of the room.
“No.” His closeness made her hot from the inside out.
“Are you afraid? Do you think I will devour you?” he gently teased.
She knew he was trying to make her smile, to ease her nerves. It only made her love and want him more.
“No, I’m not afraid,” she said with a small smile, “nor do I think you will devour me.”
“Good, because I don’t devour women until after midnight.”
A laugh escaped her. “Then I am safe for a few more hours.”
“Precisely.” He grinned, releasing her curl.
She glanced over at his bed, noticing the details of his chamber for the first time. It was decorated with wall coverings in various shades of blue, woven rugs on the floor, and a large four-poster bed with deep-blue drapery. It was elegant, serene, and tasteful.
Why was she not surprised? His birth may have been in the common class, but there was nothing common about him. This very chamber was a perfect reflection of him—a man who had achieved success yet wasn’t ostentatious. It exemplified what courage and determination could bring.
Inspired by his example, she too was unwilling to accept what fate had offered and was extending her hand to reach for more.
“Would you like me to lie down on the bed?” Mentally she cringed, mortified at her artless words. The nervous excitement, rampant inside her, was as distracting as he was.
His smile was unwavering. “No.” He slipped his fingers beneath her chin. “All I want you to do at the moment is to relax. The night is young, mon ange. There is no need to rush.”
Again he’d called her my angel. And it sounded sublime, soothing over her embarrassment.
Taking her hands, he drew her arms around his waist, then circled his arms around her. She pressed herself a little closer, drawn to his wonderful scent and the divine feel of his hard body against hers. She never felt more alive than when she was with him.
“We’ve done this before,” he reminded her. “We will only do that which pleases us both. I wouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
She looked up at him. “I know.” I love you… “I trust you.”
The look on his face told her that her answer pleased him.
“Simon, I want you to treat me no differently in bed than you would any other woman.”
He placed a soft stirring kiss at the corner of her mouth. “I’ve not been able to treat you the same as other women yet.” His words and sensuous voice played havoc with her senses.
Gracious God…He was too good at this…
“You didn’t eat this evening at the feast. I had Assunta leave early to lay out some food here in my chamber. Are you hungry?”
Food was the last thing on her mind. “No. All I want right now is you…” Threading her fingers through his hair, she pulled his head down.
The moment their mouths met, a rush of arousal flooded her body. She laced her arms around his neck, and deepened her kiss, drawing his tongue into her mouth. His groan thrilled her. She told him with her kiss what she couldn’t—wouldn’t—say at the moment: how much she needed, wanted, and loved him.
Capturing her face between his palms, he angled her head, slanting his mouth over hers, taking command of the kiss. Heightening her hunger.
“Angelica,” he breathed.
She kissed him again. In this, she wouldn’t hold back in any way.
“To hell with proceeding slowly,” he said between shallow breaths. “I’m having you. Right now. Turn around.”
Before she could command her legs, he spun her around and wrapped an arm around her waist, his fingers quickly undoing the lacing down her back with expert ease. He slipped his hands inside her loosened bodice and captured her nipples though the cloth of her chemise. She sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers plying the tips with tender tugs and light pinches, sending sensations lancing from her breasts to her core. Her sex answered with a warm gush.
“I have fantasized about this,” he murmured near her ear, “about you, here in my chamber…and what I would do to you.” His words, his actions made the bud between her legs throb.
As her bodice dropped to the floor, her only coherent thought was that she would have weeks of this sort of pleasure with him.
Turning her back around, he dipped his head and brushed his lips over the material covering her nipple, then drew on it through the cloth. Her knees almost gave way.
She arched to him, driving her hands into his hair. “Simon…” His name came out a mixture of a plea and a moan.
Grasping her wrists, he pulled her arms down to her sides and returned his mouth to hers. “I like your heated enthusiasm.” She heard the smile in his tone despite his own advanced state of arousal. “Let’s remove these cumbersome clothes.”
Between hot kisses, with more determination than skill, she managed to free his shirt from his breeches, while he smoothly stripped away her clothing—his fingers brushing her bare skin, making her breath catch—until he had her down to her chemise.
Finally, she pulled off his shirt and tossed it carelessly behind her. Her gaze was riveted to the male perfection before her.
She moved her hands over the muscled contours of his chest, letting her fingers purposely brush across his nipples. With a groan, he grabbed the hem of her knee-length chemise.
“Wait.” Breathless, she stepped back on shaky limbs.
“Wait?”
“I want to see you first. All of you.” She wouldn’t be denied the pleasure of
seeing every bit of his exquisite masculine physique this time. He was all hers, and she wanted to see all of him. “That night on the ship…you remained partially dressed,” she reminded him.
Despite the intense desire in his eyes, she saw a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.
Without a word, he stepped back and toed off his boots. Completely at ease, he undid his breeches, watching her reaction. She swallowed. Her insides fluttered in anticipation. She’d never had the desire to see a naked man before. Until Simon. She so desperately wanted to see him.
Casually, he stripped off his remaining clothing and stood naked before her, allowing her to look her fill.
His sex snared her attention. Its generous length and girth made her wonder how they could have possibly fit together, but they had, she quickly reminded herself, oh so incredibly…
“Come here, Angelica.”
He was smiling at her—the devil—having observed her ogling him. She blushed. Tamping down her embarrassment, she forced her legs to move forward.
Slipping one hand through her hair, he pulled her close and gave her a quick, hard kiss. “If you are going to look,” he said, “you might as well touch.”
Her heart missed a beat. His suggestion was overwhelmingly appealing. And utterly irresistible.
She reached out and carefully wrapped her fingers around his erect shaft. He gripped her hand and squeezed harder than she would have dared. A deep sound of pure pleasure escaped his throat and reverberated inside her.
“Christ. I love your hand on my cock,” he said, guiding her hand down his length, then back up to the tip. Though he was hard, his skin felt like satin. He loosened his hold, and she repeated the stroke, eliciting another thrilling groan from him. Touching him this way, watching how it affected him, was empowering. Enthralling. Her blood coursed hotter.
“I want to learn all the ways that give you pleasure, Simon.” She caressed him with another languid stroke. “Will you show me?”
Briefly closing his eyes, he made a sound—a combination of a laugh and a groan. “Even if it kills me,” he promised.
A glistening drop of fluid appeared on the tip. She touched it with her thumb, then spread it with light circular caresses.
He stilled her hand with a sharp groan, then drew in a ragged breath. Softly, he swore. “Does it excite you to see what you’re doing to me?”
“Yes,” she responded, without embarrassment.
“Are you wet for me, Angelica?”
“I am.” She couldn’t help it. It’s what he did to her.
He smiled. “That’s excellent. Because you’re going to show me just how wet you are.”
Before she could remark, he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. The next thing she knew was the feel of the soft mattress against her back.
He straddled her, pressing his palms on the bed at either side of her shoulders. “It’s my turn to look at you.” Reaching down, he took hold of the hem of her chemise and gently slid it up her thighs. “Let’s remove this.”
She remained motionless, burning with fever.
He moved her hem a little higher. “I swear, my eyes cannot get enough of you.” Those eyes he spoke of reflected the sincerity of his words.
Tamping down her inhibition, she helped him remove her last article of clothing.
With a few easy movements, the garment was on the floor, and he’d rearranged her legs so that he now knelt between her knees.
She bit down on her lip and fought back her instinctive shyness, battling the urge to cover herself with her arms.
He sat back on his heels and let his gaze move down the length of her body. She saw the warming look of appreciation in his eyes. Her discomfort melted away.
“You take my breath away… Every time.” Her throat tightened with emotion. “Bend your knees. Let me look at the rest of you.”
She went stock-still. She could not possibly have heard correctly. He wasn’t actually going to look at her there?
He must have noticed the uncertainty in her eyes because he said, “This is what lovers do. They enjoy each other, filling their senses with one another. Touch, taste, sight.” He smoothed his warm palms up her thighs. “Let me see you.” His voice was like velvet. “Bend your knees for me.”
Her entire body flushed warm. His request was as exciting as it was intimidating. She reminded herself that this was what she wanted. To have Simon Boulenger as her lover. To be with him this way.
She closed her eyes and slowly bent her knees. Erotic expectation seized her. Her mental focus was now on her private area, open to his view. She tried not to squirm, unaccustomed to this sort of casual scrutiny, yet braced herself for the thrill of his touch.
His fingers lightly stroked along her inner thighs, moving toward her sex. She fisted the sheets, her feminine flesh feeling overly sensitive and slick with desire.
“Chérie, look at me.”
Her eyes snapped open. He said chérie instead of chère. For the first time, he called her ‘my darling.’
The smile on his lips and the soft look in his eyes pulled at her heart.
“Don’t be embarrassed.” His fingertips brushed against her moist cleft. She gasped. “You are so beautiful here…” His finger gently circled her opening, the soft strokes making her moan. She closed her eyes, instinctively arching to him, trying to draw his fingers inside her. Eluding her, he glided his hand a little higher. She opened her eyes and stilled, barely breathing, his fingers so close to where she ached.
“And this pretty little clit,” he said, circling yet barely touching the excited bud. “It’s not only perfect, but it also looks completely…delicious.” He gave her a light pinch.
She cried out at the sharp pleasure.
Leaning over her, he kissed her, sliding his fingers inside her. She mewed against his mouth and threw her arms around him. Lowering himself onto the bed, he began long even strokes with his practiced hand. The finesse of his touch fueling her frenzy. Driving her wild.
“I want to taste you,” he muttered. “But I can’t wait to have you any longer.”
Wantonly aroused, she had no idea what he was saying. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers. She protested with a whimper. Her sex throbbed with need.
A roguish smile formed on his handsome face. “Perhaps just a small sampling now…” he said and stroked her bottom lip with his finger, applying her essence to it. She jerked, shocked.
Dipping his head, he licked it off. “So sweet…You taste as good as I knew you would.”
His weight pinning her to the mattress, he claimed her mouth in a hot, hungry kiss, and lodged the blunt tip of his sex against her opening. She returned his kiss with equal hunger, her pulse racing wildly.
Slowly, steadily he began to push into her. The delicate muscles inside her resisted. She tensed. A sudden wave of anxiety washed over her, a fleeting distant memory of a long-ago event threatening the delicious sexual abandon she felt. She tried to relax, knowing from experience the unpleasant feelings would vanish once Simon was completely inside her. She would then lose herself in the pleasure he created…
He stopped. He was no longer kissing her. No longer pressing into her.
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes.
There was comprehension in the blue eyes staring back at her. With a sinking feeling, she realized that not only had he noticed her sudden apprehension, but, given his knowledge of her past, guessed at the reason behind it too.
He looked concerned, as though he was going to say something on the abhorrent subject. Dear God. She didn’t wish to discuss this. Not now.
But then he surprised her and smiled. “Let’s try something different.”
Before she could object to alterations to their intended course of action, he rolled with her in his arms. She found herself lying on top of him.
He pressed a finger to her lips just as she was about to speak up. “Let’s make love in a different position tonight.”
She jerked back. “The
re are different positions?” What an appealing concept.
He chuckled. “There are.” She opened her mouth. He placed his finger back on her lips. “And yes, before you ask, I’ll take you in as many as you want. As for now, I’m dying to be inside you. Sit up. Straddle me. In this position, you dictate the pace.”
He would be under her. She’d be in control. A fresh wave of arousal rushed through her. She sat up, the folds of her slick sex inadvertently kissing his hard length. He growled her name, a low, sensual sound that quivered up her spine. Urgency swamped her.
He brought her hand to the base of his shaft. She quickly wrapped her fingers around it.
“It is entirely up to you, how deep, how fast, chérie.” His voice was strained, his eyes darkened with raw need, his reactions to her inflaming her further.
She positioned him at her opening. He held her hips and urged her down. His thumb gently stroked her clit, creating tiny shocks of pleasure.
She sank down on him, her body opening to him, sheathing him inch by glorious inch. The decadent strokes of his thumb and the feel of him slowly filling her were indescribable bliss. When at last she’d taken his entire length, her head fell back. Oh God. He was so deep. Deeper than before. It felt so good. She felt so full.
It felt incredible.
He rose. Fisting her hair, he gave it a sensual tug, bending her backward over his arm, latching onto her breast hungrily. A cry escaped her throat. She grabbed hold of his strong shoulders and held on. Every sensual pull of his hot mouth, together with the sensation of him buried inside her—the pressure sublime—sent her senses reeling. Spiking her fever. She ground herself against him. “Simon, now!”
He released her and lay back, his blue eyes mirroring the same feral hunger burning through her blood. “All right…now.”
Gripping her hips, he guided her initial movements. She quickly learned the rhythm and angle, lost to the pleasure of his thick length stroking her sex. Each rise and fall of her hips driving her into delirium.