Wild Desire

by Lori Brighton

  Colin followed her, stretching his long, lean body out on top of hers. Bea welcomed the feel of his weight, reveled in it. She didn’t want to think about family or anything to do with her old life. She merely wanted to feel. Colin lowered his face, brushing his lips across her cheek, his short whiskers tickling.

  “How long I’ve wished for this,” she whispered, closing her eyes and savoring the touch of his hands on her skin.

  “Be careful what you wish for,” Colin said, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

  Bea shivered, whether from his words or his touch, she wasn’t sure. He drew back and jerked the shirt from his chest. He was glorious. Perfect. She reached out, tracing the dips and valleys of his muscles. Better than a statue, for he was warmth and life.

  “Too much time, Bea,” Colin said as he lowered himself once more, his lips finding her neck. “I’ve had to wait much too long to touch you.”

  He moved farther down her body, his mouth finding the hollow at her throat. “Waited so long that I thought I’d go insane with want.”

  Bea rested her hands on his bare shoulders, trailing her fingers over the bulge of muscles and tendons. His body was hard, his muscles stiff, his skin quivering with her touch. A powerful rush of reality washed over her. He was trying to hold back. The thought made her feel exotic, powerful.

  She felt the warmth of his breath across her nipple right before his mouth found her breast. Desire shot through Bea. She gasped, her fingers curling into his hair. All thoughts of power vanished. She held no power over the man; if anything, it was quite the opposite.

  She arched her back, moaning. “Colin, please, you drive me mad.”

  He released a harsh chuckle and trailed kisses down her body. “And you don’t drive me insane?” He slid his arms under her back and pulled the shirt from her torso. “Every damn thing you do drives me insane.” He pressed his mouth to her stomach.

  Bea’s muscles quivered, the ache between her legs flaring to life. She slid her hands over his shoulder, wanting to touch all of him.

  “The way your hips move when you walk. The way your backside fills out those damn trousers.” His fingers found the button at her waistband. “The way you draw your bottom lip between your teeth and suckle.” His body shook under her fingertips. He wanted her.

  He flipped open the button on the waistband and tugged. Bea lifted her hips, allowing him to pull the clothing free. He pressed his lips lower, to the area directly above the soft mound of curls.

  “The way you smell, the way you taste …” His hands rested on her thighs, his fingers rough against her smooth skin. “The way you moan my name in your sleep.”

  Bea’s eyes burst open. Surely not. He must be jesting.

  Colin nudged her legs wide and pressed his mouth to her inner thighs. She quivered. Any embarrassment fled.

  “Damn it, Bea, you keep me up at night, dreaming about doing this to you. Dreaming about touching you, doing things to you that would make you scream in pleasure.”

  She felt his warm breath right before his tongue darted out, slipping between her sleek folds. Bea gasped, clutching the blanket. Wrong. It was so wrong the way he was kissing her, licking her, sucking. Yet she couldn’t stop him.

  “Dear God, you taste wonderful,” Colin murmured.

  They were the words she needed to hear. She felt powerful with Colin, she felt wanted and needed. For so many years she’d been ignored. Colin never ignored her. No, he looked at her as if he wanted to devour her. As if she were the only woman in the world. As if she mattered.

  His hands slid under her bottom, cupping her and lifting her higher. His tongue thrust deeper. A heated flush spread over Bea’s body, almost uncomfortable in its intensity. She squirmed underneath him, moaning as the ache in her lower belly tightened. She wanted to pull away, didn’t want to find fulfillment this way, yet Colin held her tight. And then, it was too late.

  “Colin!” she cried out as wave after wave of ecstasy pulsed through her core.

  Floating in an oblivion of fulfillment, she was barely aware when Colin moved up her body, pausing only when his mouth reached her neck. There, he hesitated, pressing his lips to her pulse, while his hands rested at her hips. His tongue darted out, tasting her skin. The touch was too soon, too intimate. Bea moaned, drawing her hands through his hair, the soft curls entwining around her fingers. In a heady bliss, she held him close, savoring the feel of his body against hers.

  He shifted. His erection pressed warm and hard between her thighs. At some point, he’d unbuttoned his trousers. Bea moved, wiggling and arching her back. He was close, so close, and she wanted him, all of him.

  “Damn it, Bea, stop moving.”

  She froze, tossed back into reality. Her breath came out in sharp pants as she waited. But Colin didn’t move, merely lowered his head to her chest and rested on his elbows.

  She tried to remain still, truly she did, but as the minutes past, she grew impatient. Bea wiggled beneath him, urging him to continue. “Colin?” she asked, confused.

  He lifted his head, his gaze meeting hers. His eyes were heated, fierce. “What will I do with you?”

  He didn’t give her time to answer, but pressed his mouth to hers. As their tongues met, his thick erection slipped between the folds, driving her mad. She could feel him there, the tip of his arousal pressed to her, so close. Bea arched her back, trying to draw him in farther, but he wouldn’t allow such action. Instead, he moved his hips, keeping outside of her body as he slid between her folds over and over.

  Even as she released a frustrated groan, a delicious ache settled low in her body, spreading through her like a fire across a dry, summer field. Bea’s breathing grew harsher, so harsh she could barely seem to draw breath through her shallow lungs. Her entire body tightened with a need she didn’t truly understand. With a whimper, she turned her head. Two stone figures met her gaze. They were frozen in pleasure, their faces showing pure delight as the man arched into her from behind. A shiver raked Bea’s skin.

  Desire took control. Wave after wave of pleasure burst through her body, holding her captive in a storm of erotic desire. Colin’s arms tightened around her body. No longer was she aware of the earth, no longer was she aware of anything but her own pleasure and Colin, holding her close.

  Colin rolled away, leaving her body exposed to the cold. He lay beside her, his eyes closed and a soft moan escaping his lips.

  The cold fingers of reality scraped across her skin. “Colin?” She drew her shirt together and rolled onto her side, pressing close to his warmth.

  He kept his eyes closed and didn’t respond.

  She hesitated only a moment, then reached toward him. His hand shot out, his fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist. “No.”

  It was one simple word, but said so harshly that she didn’t deny his request. His hold loosened and she drew back, resting on her side and watching him. She waited, waited until his harsh breathing settled into some normalcy. Waited for an explanation. Was he angry? Had she done something wrong? Reality washed over her like a snowstorm. She suddenly understood his anger. Colin hadn’t wanted to do this; she’d practically forced him.

  With her, he held back. Always held back, and she knew the reason why. If Colin took her virginity, he’d be tied to her, and Colin was tied to no one.

  Chapter 23

  In the early morning, before the sun had even risen, Bea blamed herself for what had happened. If she hadn’t seduced Colin like an animal in heat, he never would have touched her that way, she never would have reacted that way, and he never would have rolled away from her that way, leaving her cold and humiliated. Aye, it was her own bloody fault.

  By mid afternoon, with the sun high and beating down on them furiously as they followed the western coast of India, Bea blamed Colin. After all, he’d attacked her that first night in his home. As if that wasn’t enough, he’d practically mauled her on their way to see Anish. If he hadn’t kissed her, he never would have awoken that insatiable d
esire deep within. Aye, it was Colin’s bloody fault.

  By evening, with the sun slipping below the horizon, giving them blessed relief from the heat, Bea blamed the statues. She’d never liked art anyway. Ridiculous water-colors and drawing classes she’d never been talented enough for. What sort of person produced statues like that anyway? Heathens, that’s who. Aye, it was the artist’s bloody fault.

  And by nightfall, as the first star burst to life, she came to the very depressing realization that it was no one’s fault. After all, she couldn’t quite blame herself, nor could she blame Colin for the ridiculous feelings that had stirred to life the moment they kissed in Delhi. Fate. The gods. Whatever one wanted to call it, Bea had been oddly attracted to Colin from the moment they locked lips.

  With a sigh, she leaned forward, resting the side of her face against his warm back, and attempting desperately not to notice his scent, nor the way his muscles felt underneath her cheek. No, the attraction she felt for Colin was otherworldly, was confusing, tormenting, and she couldn’t do a bloody thing to make it go away. Feelings he didn’t seem to share in the least. Or did he?

  She supposed one could say the first kiss they’d shared had been an accident. He’d thought she was some loose woman who’d invaded his quarters. But the second time, after they’d nearly drowned, well, he’d certainly known her identity then. He hadn’t mistaken her for some past lover. Bea took her bottom lip between her teeth, mulling over the possibilities. Surely there was some attraction upon his part, wasn’t there? She sighed once more. Being on a bloody horse all day gave a person much too much time to think.

  “Do you feel it?” Colin asked, breaking into her thoughts.

  Bea pushed away from him, stiffening in surprise. She wasn’t sure what shocked her more, his words after hours of silence, or the actual question itself. She shrank down behind his shoulders, horrified he could read her emotions. Feel what, exactly? The way her body heated at the mere sound of his voice? The way her pulse raced when he was near? Dear Lord, could he feel her heart thundering against his back? Or could it be … was it actually possible the man was going to admit his attraction for her?

  “Yes,” she whispered tentatively.

  He turned in the saddle and glanced over his shoulder, smiling that dimpled smile she so adored. Bea’s body flushed with pleasure. It was true. He was going to admit his feelings. He liked her. He’d said he liked her. And she’d been such a silly nit, thinking he didn’t care about what they’d experienced. A million possibilities tumbled through her mind. Perhaps he’d say the words she so desperately longed to hear. Perhaps their journey wouldn’t end. Perhaps … perhaps …

  “Colin,” she started, lowering her lashes and feeling suddenly shy. “I—”

  “The ocean,” he interrupted, turning back around. “We’re close. You can feel the salt in the air.”

  Reality came crashing down, crushing her soul as if she’d just been hit by one of the perverted statues from Shiva’s home.

  “Salt?” she choked, unable to keep the anger from her voice.

  But Colin didn’t notice. Of course not, he was a man, and men, apparently, didn’t notice a bloody thing.

  “We’re almost there. We’ll rest soon, then tomorrow, we’ll head into Bombay.”

  She should have known! The blasted man. Of course he wasn’t about to admit his feelings, because he was a toad, and toads had no feelings. Annoyed, Bea didn’t feel like sharing in the excitement. No, she’d rather be contrary and scatter his happiness. “How do you know you can trust this man anyway?”

  Colin darted her an annoyed glance over his shoulder, and she felt a grim sense of satisfaction. “Akshay was Leo’s friend. They survived the jungle together, survived their families’ murders, they survived your grandfather when he tried to kill them. We can trust him.”

  Colin focused forward once more, and chagrined, Bea was left to mull over her thoughts. It was still difficult to believe her grandfather had been such an evil man. She didn’t particularly remember him, and what she did remember was a man who ignored her for the most part. But a murderer? Grandmother wasn’t the kindest soul, but she’d never harm a person. Did she have any clue what her husband was capable of?

  Had they been happy once, a long time back? They certainly weren’t later in life when greed and obsession got in the way. Was every love destined for a horrible ending? No, Leo and Ella seemed happy and she couldn’t imagine either destroying their marriage. But would she ever be so lucky as to find someone to share her life?

  It was obvious Colin was more interested in the bloody statue than her. Once a cad, always a cad. Hadn’t Grandmother whispered that one evening after receiving a letter from Grandfather? Not that Bea was thinking of Colin as someone she could spend her life with. Of course not. They were friends … friends who kissed, and touched … and … Oh, who the bloody hell was she kidding?

  Their horse mounted a small hill and a village came into view. They were close, so close to ending their mission. She was happy to be near Bombay. Wasn’t she? She’d been eager to arrive when they’d started the trip. Eager to get away from Colin, to get away from the foreignness of India. But now …

  Once they reached civilization, Bea would be swept back into the world of wealth and titles. Would she see Colin again? Or would he be off on another grand adventure and she’d be sent back to that castle in Scotland? She swallowed hard and closed her eyes, resting the side of her face against his broad back and taking comfort, once more, in his strength and scent. No, she couldn’t go back to Scotland. Grandmother had made it clear she wasn’t welcome, and Bea wouldn’t beg.

  Misery weighed heavily upon her soul. Overhead, a star flared across the sky, before fading like an unfulfilled promise from the heavens. Blast them all, she’d traveled through India, she could survive whatever life decided to dump upon her.

  Dry fields had given way to huts with straw roofs. Mushrooms alongside the road, just waiting to be picked by a giant. As much as she wished to be contrary, she couldn’t help feeling there was magic in the air, as her father used to say when she was a little girl.

  “On an evening like this, anything can happen, Bea, my love.”

  How odd that she should remember his words now. She’d been so young when he’d died, she barely remembered him at all. Why now, of all places, was she thinking of the man she had hardly known? As silly as her father had been, he was the one person who had followed his desires. He hadn’t let responsibilities nor his title keep him from running wild. Of course, he’d ended up dead for it, a broken neck racing carelessly through Hyde Park. But he’d enjoyed life, hadn’t he? What would he think of his daughter? Traveling through the wilds of India?

  A little girl in a pink sari raced from a cottage. She squealed, bursting into giggles as a young boy caught hold of her hand. Their laughter invaded the night and lifted Bea’s heart. Too young for romance, they were merely playing, enjoying. All around her, life was beginning, circling, evolving. Women were lighting lanterns and fires threw dancing lights across the hut walls, a merry dance of shadows.

  It was almost welcoming, the warm flames, the brilliant saris and turbans. Even Hindi, a language she didn’t understand a word of, sounded lyrical and beautiful, a soft lulling music in the background of what had become her life. This was why she’d left Scotland, this was why she’d risked everything, even her relationship with her grandmother … to experience.

  “They don’t seem to care,” Bea said.

  “What’s that?”

  She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud until Colin asked. “The people. Even in Delhi they stared, but they don’t here.”

  “Because they’re used to seeing Europeans, being so near the port.”

  But Bea knew it was more than that. Although they glanced their way, no one came running, no one watched for more than a few seconds. Two dirty, obviously poor Europeans were no threat. Without her titled family, she finally fit in, as much as she could. And oddly she lik
ed it this way.

  She rather appreciated the stigma of being just another European adventurer.

  And she was an adventurer, no matter what anyone else believed. For the first time in her life, she was sure of who she was. She was English, she was a woman, she was brave. Most likely it wouldn’t work between her and Colin, and when Colin left her, she would lift her chin high and continue.

  But continue where? Her shoulders slumped, darkness sinking heavy in her gut. Just the thought of returning to Scotland left a bitter taste in her mouth. And if she was honest with herself, the possibility of never seeing Colin again couldn’t even bear thought.

  Colin clicked his tongue, urging their mount forward. The poor beast was ready to collapse, but fortunately the huts had given way to buildings made of white stucco and gray rocks. Side by side, the homes formed a small village where cows roamed the streets and children played.

  With their journey coming to a close, a new sense of depression overwhelmed her. “How much longer?” Bea asked.

  She shifted on her saddle, like a child during Sunday’s service. Next to Colin, with his scent swirling around her, she couldn’t think, couldn’t rationalize, and she suddenly found herself at odds. Part of her wanted to move far away from the man in order to preserve what little control she had left over her emotions; the other half couldn’t stand the thought.

  “So eager to be rid of me?” he asked casually.

  Was there a hard edge to his voice, or had she imagined the tone? She certainly hadn’t imagined the slight stiffening of his back under her hands. “Eager to rest.”

  He didn’t relax. “We’ll be there soon.” Colin pulled his mount to a stop next to a man shuffling down the road. “Kshama keejeeae.”

  The man paused, glancing up at them through narrowed, suspicious eyes. “Haan?”

  “Akshay Patel?”

  He smiled briefly, setting Bea at ease. His low bow was a show of respect. Would Colin be as respected in England, among her peers? Would he fit in as he did here? No, he was too wild, too sure of himself, too uncaring of what others thought. Colin would go mad, confined by English rules, and he’d offend more than a few. The thought almost made her laugh.