Untouched

by Anna Campbell

His grip on her thighs tightened. His eyes blazed in his pale face and his cheekbones stood out in sculpted relief. Before she could speak, he moved further down the bed and bent his head. For one bewildering moment, she registered the heat of his breath on her cleft.

  Then his mouth took her.

  It was too much. For one long quivering moment, she lay unmoving. His mouth was hot, heat to her heat. She felt the probe of his tongue. Flame licked at her skin.

  She couldn’t let him do this. It was depraved.

  With trembling hands, she reached down to push him away, trying to ignore the springy softness of his hair under her fingers. Her arms had the strength of jelly and she couldn’t shift him.

  Scrambling up against the head of the bed, she stared at him in shock.

  He lifted his head and looked at her. To her horror—and reluctant fascination—his mouth glistened with moisture.

  Her moisture.

  She shivered, not entirely with revulsion. Although the thought that a man could do this, would even want to do this, had never occurred to her.

  Goodness, until tonight, she’d had no idea a man needed to do anything other than shove his member inside a woman.

  “You can’t!” she gasped, raising herself on her elbows.

  “Why not?” His eyes were brilliant with pleasure. How decadently beautiful he looked caught between her thighs.

  “It’s…it’s wrong,” she stuttered, knowing she sounded like a fool.

  “Did it feel good?” the smiling devil asked.

  “Not at all!”

  He arched a cynical brow. “Really?”

  “Really!” she said with breathless emphasis.

  “Don’t you want to try again and make sure?” He sounded ridiculously reasonable for a man who wanted to do…that. “Aren’t you curious? I am.”

  “Curiosity killed the cat.” She absurdly fell back onto the old proverb as if that answered anything. All the time, the curiosity she so derided built and built. What would it be like if he kissed her there? The brief instant when his mouth had touched her hadn’t been unpleasant. Far from it, actually, if she forced herself to be honest.

  Of course, no decent woman would countenance such a thing.

  But she was no longer a decent woman, was she?

  Tonight, she’d ceased being respectable wife, indigent widow, virtuous lady. Tonight, she’d become a madman’s harlot.

  A madman’s harlot wouldn’t shrink from an act just because it struck her as strange and perverse. A madman’s harlot would embrace every indulgence her madman offered.

  “You’re thinking about it. I can see it in your eyes.” He curled his fingers more firmly around her thighs and spread them wider. “I swore I’d stop if you asked. That hasn’t changed.”

  “Don’t you want to take me?” she asked almost on a wail.

  His long mouth quirked with wry humor. “More than I want to breathe. But this time, you’ll be with me all the way.”

  “You promise you’ll stop if I say so?” she asked doubtfully, even while she lay down.

  “I promise. Though never trust anything a man tells you when he’s got his head between your legs.”

  Grace’s giggle ended on a strangled moan when with a ruthlessness she’d never have credited to him, he tilted her hips up and buried his mouth in her. He made a low, deep sound of enjoyment. She shivered as his tongue and lips and teeth worked her.

  The sensation was odd. She wasn’t sure she did like it.

  Until the first blast of pleasure scorched her.

  She stiffened in astonished reaction and clenched her hands hard in the sheet. She swallowed a startled whimper.

  Still, he must have heard her. He paused and stared up at her. “All right?”

  Speaking was an effort. “No.”

  “No?” he asked skeptically.

  Curse him for not taking her word. The strange cramping of her interior muscles subsided, leaving her wanting more.

  “No!” Then, when she looked deep into his golden eyes, “Yes.”

  “Good,” he said shortly and started all over again. His tongue flickered over her then he drew hard on her center of pleasure.

  Until tonight, she hadn’t even known she had a center of pleasure. She bucked under his mouth, not sure whether she wanted him to stop immediately or if she never wanted him to stop at all.

  He placed one hand firmly on her churning stomach and increased the pressure on her sex. This time he didn’t pause until she writhed and cried out. Even then, he didn’t stop until the heat searing her turned into a ferocious disk of light that burned a path through her inhibitions then slung her into a sky of fire.

  For a long shuddering interval, she remained suspended in that shining wilderness. Rivers of flame raced through her veins. She jerked and trembled under his mouth.

  It was frightening. It was startling.

  It was heavenly.

  When the strange, dazzling experience subsided, sweat was cold on her naked skin. Her lungs heaved as she gasped for air. She felt wonderful. As though someone had combed every sinew in her body into smooth sleekness. She felt as if she could dance away the night. She felt more exhausted than she ever had in her life.

  Grace opened her eyes to find Matthew braced over her with an arrested expression on his face. “What happened?” he asked in a shaken voice.

  Talking was a strain. “I can’t describe it. How did you know to do that?”

  “I guessed.” He placed tender kisses on each sloping breast.

  “Can you do it again?”

  “I don’t know,” he rasped. “Not immediately. Not if I’m to retain what little sanity I still have.”

  He’d shown her bliss but was yet to achieve his own release. After what he’d just done for her, only a selfish lover would deny him.

  “Then take me, Matthew,” she whispered. She anchored one hand around the back of his neck and prepared for the familiar, uncomfortable invasion.

  Even enlarged and excited, he sank in with perfect smoothness. He settled hot and heavy inside her.

  He didn’t move. His breath was ragged in her ear.

  She’d never felt as close to another human being. It was as though the same blood pumped through their veins, the same heart beat for both of them. Heat and passion surrounded her.

  This moment had always left her feeling trapped.

  She didn’t feel trapped now.

  She sucked in a shaky breath. Experimentally she shifted, changing the pressure. The movement set off tremors of pleasure. His size still stretched her but the sensation was one of fullness, completion.

  She hooked her hands over his shoulders. He was slippery with sweat. His musky scent was so pungent that the whole world smelled of his hunger. His hunger for her.

  She squirmed with delight, making him groan. Her wriggling must test him. Some devil made her move again.

  “Jesus, Grace,” he gritted out. “You try my limits.”

  “I hope so,” she purred. He felt so wonderful inside her. As if he supplied part of her that she only realized now she’d lacked. She bent her knees and tilted her hips so he went deeper. She ran her hands down the tense muscles of his back. He flexed under her touch.

  “That felt good,” she said breathlessly. “Do it again.”

  “If I start, I won’t stop.” His voice was rough.

  “Start.” She shifted again and felt him shudder.

  “Grace,” he grated out. He withdrew, then plunged into her. Her nails sank into his back and her womb clenched in welcome.

  With deliberate slowness, he set the familiar rhythm.

  Except none of this was familiar. Every time he settled in her body, he forged an emotional connection that nothing could sever.

  On and on he went. Possession. Release. Possession. Release. Every thrust another link in the chain that bound her to him.

  Eventually his inhuman control fractured and he drove into her faster, more wildly. With every thrust, her excitement buil
t. It echoed how she’d felt when he kissed her between the legs. That had been wonderful, astounding. But this was more powerful.

  Because he was with her.

  He pounded into her as though he meant to crush her. She didn’t care. She never wanted this spiraling feeling to end. The storm swirled her higher and higher.

  Ecstasy poised her on a knife edge. She cried out and rose to meet him. He changed the angle of his penetration and went even deeper. The pleasure edged close to pain. She tensed as he pressed hard inside her. Then her womb opened and she took all of him. Her inner muscles convulsed into spasms of delight and she screamed.

  Violent rapture flung her against the doors of heaven itself. She was lost in a hot, dark world where nothing existed except Matthew. All she could do was hold him and pray she survived.

  Through the tempest that blasted her, he reached his climax. He groaned and convulsed in her arms. For this moment, he was unequivocally hers and she reveled in the possession.

  After an endless time, he collapsed in absolute exhaustion. His shoulders and chest heaved as he struggled for breath. He buried his head in the curve of her shoulder so his damp, soft hair tickled the side of her neck.

  He was big, he was heavy, he was on top of her. And she never wanted to let him go.

  Small quakes still shook her. Quivering reminders of the paradise she’d discovered. A paradise she hadn’t known existed. Gradually, Grace’s breathing returned to normal. Or as normal as it could be with Matthew squashing her. Even more gradually, torrid delight faded into afterglow.

  She’d had no idea. She’d honestly had no idea.

  With tender gratitude, she stroked his bare back, making idle patterns on his scarred skin, learning the hard lines of spine and shoulder blade.

  She could touch him like this forever. She listened as his breathing steadied and his heartbeat slowed.

  He grazed his chin against her shoulder. The bristles on his face scratched. She felt rather than heard him inhale. He turned his head to place a gentle kiss on her neck.

  “I love you, Grace,” he whispered.

  Chapter 17

  The soft words crashed into the charged silence like a declaration of war instead of a declaration of love.

  As soon as he spoke, Matthew knew he’d made a mistake. His biggest mistake of all in this long, momentous night.

  Damn his unruly tongue. Double damn his yearning heart.

  It was too late to take back what he’d said. Even if he wanted to.

  He wasn’t sure he did. He wasn’t ashamed of how he felt.

  Jesus, his love for her invested every heartbeat.

  Of course he loved her. He’d loved her from the moment he’d seen her bound, bedraggled and defiant, to that fiendish table in the garden room. Even when he’d mistrusted and reviled her, he’d loved her.

  After what they’d just shared, she must know he loved her. Every touch, every kiss, every stroke of his body in hers had professed his love. Hadn’t she felt it?

  But she wasn’t ready to hear vows of undying love. Even if he hadn’t guessed that already, her horrified reaction now told him. Stiffness returned to the body which had curved against his in perfect trust. The hands that had played a delicate symphony on his naked back stilled as if turned to stone.

  Her shocked paralysis faded and she struggled out from beneath him. “Lord Sheene…My lord…”

  Only seconds ago, he’d luxuriated in an intimacy he’d never known. It hurt like the very devil to hear her try and distance him.

  He raised himself on one elbow so he could look at her. “Back to my lord again?” he asked wearily.

  “Matthew, listen to me.” Color lined her slanted cheekbones. “You can’t love me.”

  She sounded furious. How strange. He’d braced himself for embarrassment or, worse, pity. But her eyes sparkled with rage and something very like fear.

  Why should his confession make her frightened? The thought nagged at the edge of his mind.

  She pushed herself up against the pillows and fumbled to tug the sheet higher to cover her nakedness. Another barrier, he recognized with regret. No part of her remained in contact with him. The inches that separated them felt like miles of ice field. He had the absurd fancy that if he attempted to cross that gap, he’d stumble into a crevasse and freeze to death.

  “Of course I can,” he said with a hint of impatience. While all the time, the bitter fact of her rejection seeped into his mind.

  “It’s not possible. You shouldn’t. It’s not…” She took a deep breath. He watched the sheet rise against her breasts and fought the urge to rip it away.

  She wanted to hide from this but he wasn’t going to let her. He wasn’t going to let her hide from him.

  Then a vile thought plunged like a knife into his few remaining shreds of contentment. Even while his gut clenched in anguished denial, he made himself ask the question. “Did you sleep with me to save yourself from my uncle? If so, I appreciate your generosity, but there was no need. Sharing this room will convince him we’re lovers. You didn’t need to make the ultimate sacrifice.”

  “No!” She paled and her pulse set up an agitated beat in her throat. The hands clutching the sheet tightened until her knuckles shone white. “No, never, never think that. You know I want you. There was…there was no sacrifice.”

  “Your reaction leads me to think otherwise,” he said in a wooden voice.

  The anger left her expression and her face contracted with sorrow. “You took me by surprise. I spoke hastily. Forgive me. I…I wasn’t kind.”

  Her pity was harder to bear than her anger. “I don’t want kindness,” he almost snarled.

  Flinching at his tone, she raised her eyes to look directly at him. The compassion in her voice made him want to hit something. “Matthew, forgive me. I know this is difficult for you. But you make too much of what just happened between us.”

  “No, I don’t,” he said stiffly.

  “Listen to me. You’ve been locked away since you were fourteen. The only female you’ve seen in eleven years is Mrs. Filey.” Her voice was very steady. Damn her, he couldn’t doubt her sincerity. Even if he recognized the words as arrant nonsense.

  “I don’t expect you to love me, Grace.” He left unspoken his belief that a woman like her, fine, beautiful, passionate, could never love a lout like him. He still found it hard to credit that she’d given herself to him.

  “Matthew…” she began, but he spoke over her.

  “I love you.” The words emerged as a challenge. “Whether you accept this or not, I love you.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  He fisted his hands to stop himself shaking her. “I don’t want you to be bloody flattered.”

  “Well, I am.” She hastened into earnest speech before he could snap at her again. “I’m not belittling how you feel. But this is your first experience of a woman. It’s easy to mistake pleasure for love.”

  She stopped as if waiting for him to agree. He kept silent. Every particle of him vehemently denied what she said. Yes, he’d discovered what intercourse was like. Yes, it had been extraordinary, breathtaking, life-changing.

  But it wasn’t everything. He loved Grace whether he made love to her or not. Her every breath was precious to him. If that wasn’t love, he had no idea what else it could be.

  He heard her tattered inhalation. Her unnatural self-possession frayed. “I’m not surprised you’re overwhelmed. I’m…I’m overwhelmed too. But one day, you’ll be free and you’ll meet a woman you truly love.”

  “You’re wrong,” he said stubbornly, flopping onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. He ignored her rosy depiction of his future. Freedom was an impossible dream. He’d long ago accepted that. “Give me patronizing explanations until Christmas. You won’t change what I feel.”

  A difficult pause extended.

  “I’ve hurt you,” she finally said in a sad voice. “I’m sorry.”

  “No matter. We won’t speak of this again
.” His response dripped damaged pride. He knew he behaved like a block-head but he couldn’t help himself.

  Tentatively, she reached out to stroke his cheek. “I’ve spoiled our magical night. Please forgive me.”

  He closed his eyes, letting her touch radiate through him. It soothed his roiling anger and unhappiness. Desire, briefly satisfied, surged in on a hot tide.

  He’d promised not to mention his love again. Nothing on earth could stop him showing her what she meant to him. Eventually she’d believe in his feelings. Believe in him. He’d batter at her resistance with passion until she let him into her heart.

  Grace had a shocked second to register the change in his face. Only a second. He flung the concealing sheet back and wrenched her into his arms.

  “God help me,” he muttered in a tormented voice before capturing her mouth in a reckless, devouring kiss.

  Clutching at his back, she strained up toward him. His loss of control didn’t frighten her. It excited. His desperation fed hers.

  He wasn’t gentle. Heaven help her, she didn’t want him to be. She wanted him to invade her. His touch conveyed power and savagery. Her refusal to believe his declaration had angered him. And hurt. How she hated that she’d hurt him.

  For one radiant moment, the words, I love you, Grace, had settled warm, calm, sure in her heart. She’d almost done the unforgivable and said, I love you, Matthew, in return.

  Almost. Before vile truth stung her like a cobra. She couldn’t tie him to her with commitments he’d later regret.

  While he wanted her, she was his.

  Oh, Grace, lie to Matthew. Don’t lie to yourself. You’re his until the day you die.

  He placed one hand around her throat, forcing her head up to his kiss. His anguished kisses made her shake. He tasted of desire, he tasted of passion, he tasted of need.

  Almost roughly, he palmed her breast. She gasped and writhed, hooking her legs around his hips so she lay open to him. Blood pounded in her veins. She’d explode if he didn’t take her. Take her hard. She moaned into his open mouth, snatching at his shoulders to drag him closer. She nipped his earlobe and felt his sex twitch against her belly.

  A thrill raced through her. Where was demure Grace Paget? This wild wanton harpy was a stranger.