A Not-So-Innocent Seduction

by Janice Maynard

  She frowned, the movement creating two small lines in her forehead. “I believe I invited you to my room. That’s a pretty clear signal in my book.”

  “We’re practically strangers.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You’re not sure you can trust me.”

  “And vice versa. But this is about sex.”

  “And if either of us wants more?”

  “Do we have to worry about that now?”

  The warning bells clanged in his head, but he closed his ears. “I suppose not.”

  She unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall to the floor. Her breasts were barely concealed by a lacy crimson bra. Against her pale skin, the color glowed like fire. “Last one in is a rotten egg,” she said, smiling as she uttered the childhood taunt.

  Something kicked in at that moment, some primeval urge to hunt and conquer. “Zoe,” he warned. But it was too late. She had already disappeared into the bathroom. By the time he came to his senses and followed, she was completely naked, standing beneath the pelting water in the open shower. Droplets of water clung to her pert, pink nipples.

  Though her actions indicated confidence, in her wary gaze he saw a diffident insecurity, as though even now she wasn’t sure of his motives. Never taking his eyes off her, he stripped clumsily, stumbling against the counter when one leg of his pants caught on his shoe.

  He stopped short of removing his boxers, because he was far too close to an impatient climax. His hands fisted at his hips. He took deep, cleansing breaths, searching for control.

  Zoe watched him intently, her golden hair darker now, the color of pale molasses. “You planning to stand there all night?” Again she taunted him. “I could use some help with the spots I can’t reach.”

  To hell with control. He ripped his underwear down his legs and kicked it aside. Zoe’s wide-eyed gaze settled on his penis and stayed there. He saw her swallow and lick her lips. “I’ll wash spots you didn’t even know you had,” he threatened.

  When he joined her in the shower, she backed against the far wall. Without asking, he took the soap from her lax grip and slid the sandalwood-scented bar from her throat to her navel.

  Zoe’s eyelids fluttered shut. Her lips parted and her respiration grew shallow. Now that he was in reach of what he wanted, he was able to gain a measure of delayed gratification. “Does that feel good?” he asked, pretending he was cool and calm. Inside his chest, his heart raced madly.

  She stirred restlessly, one of her bare thighs brushing his. “Yes.” The single syllable was slurred.

  When he managed to move his gaze from her face to her breasts and onto the real estate below, he noticed the small fluff of feminine curls that had been trimmed in a tiny heart. He touched the shape with a single fingertip. “I like this, sweet Zoe. As far as I can tell, you collect hearts everywhere you go.”

  “Don’t tease,” she muttered, opening her eyes and gazing at him with such a beseeching look that for a single breathless second he would have given her anything she asked for.

  He rotated his hand in the air. “Turn around. I’m not done.”

  Complying with just the right amount of sulky obedience, she flattened her hands against the wall of the shower and bowed her head. As he tucked her hair forward over her shoulder, Liam’s heart bounced once and lodged uncomfortably in the vicinity of his throat. This was supposed to be a game. But looking at her like this swamped him with feelings that went beyond simple lust.

  The nape of her neck struck him as painfully defenseless. Her shoulder blades were a tad too pronounced, but the line of her spine led to an ass that curved like a perfect, ripe peach.

  Reaching for a washcloth, he lathered it and began to wash her back. If Zoe’s little sighs and murmurs were any indication, she enjoyed his attention. Shortly, he abandoned the rag and used his bare hands to soap up her slick, creamy skin. His fingertips learned the dips and valleys of her body.

  Unable to resist, he rested his erection in the cleft of her bottom, and pressed his lips to the top of her spine. “I don’t know what I’ve done right in my life to deserve this moment, but I would walk through fire to have you again and again.”

  She lifted her head and glanced over her shoulder with a sultry smile that shot his blood pressure into the danger zone. “You haven’t had me yet,” she pointed out.

  “Are you complaining? I thought women loved foreplay.”

  “I’m merely pointing out that you don’t have to work so hard. I’m all yours, Liam.”

  Four simple words. Four teasing, erotic, knee-weakening syllables. I’m all yours, Liam. Did she really mean it? Did she have a clue how starved he was for her and only her, no matter the consequences?

  His libido snapped the chains of his intellect. “Turn around, woman. Put your hands over your head.”

  Nine

  When Zoe faced Liam, she realized in an instant that they had segued fast and hard from teasing flirtation to gut-deep lust. His pupils were dilated.... Only a tiny rim of royal blue remained. The dark flush on his cheekbones gave him the look of a warrior.

  Shoulders that seemed impossibly wide bracketed a chest that was a miracle of nature. Muscle and sinew and a faint smattering of dark hair. The man who appeared so sophisticated and debonair in a tailored suit was a dominant male in his prime.

  Oxygen evaporated, leaving her breathless and woozy. She could have blamed it on the hot water and the steamy air, but she had a clue it was more to do with the searing blue of Liam’s eyes and the way he raked her from head to toe with a claiming stare.

  Slowly, she lifted her arms until the backs of her hands rested against the ivory-colored marble wall veined in gold. “Take what you want,” she said, wondering if she could push him beyond a civilized edge. Why it mattered so much to her, she couldn’t say. Perhaps it hearkened back her earlier desire to know the Liam who existed behind the veil of courtly manners.

  He vibrated with a hunger that was almost tangible. Deliberately, he caught each of her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and tugged firmly. Fire shot from the sensitive flesh he tormented to the aching juncture of her thighs. Moisture bloomed in hidden places, moisture that had nothing to with the force of the shower and everything to do with Liam’s touch.

  Meeting his gaze at such close range became impossible. Her eyes downcast, she witnessed the fascinating swirl of his navel and the way his narrow hips gave way to powerful thighs. His erect shaft reared against his taut abdomen.

  When he cupped her breasts with soapy hands, she jumped and moaned.

  His forehead rested against hers. “You enchant me, lovely Zoe.”

  “I don’t think I can stand much more of this,” she said, with absolute sincerity. “I’m a heartbeat away from a world-class orgasm.”

  “Should I be flattered?” His husky voice teased her ear as he leaned into her and ran his hands up her arms so slowly she wanted to scream. When he reached her wrists, he gripped them tightly. Now his erection probed the soft flesh of her belly.

  Her knees weakened to the point of collapse. She closed her eyes and whimpered.

  Liam’s response was instant. He kissed her hard. “Where did you go, Zoe? I want you here. With me.”

  Opening one eye, she managed a small grin. “Do you really want to know?”

  His gaze sharpened as he absorbed her meaning. “God, yes. Tell me, wicked girl.”

  She dropped her head to the side, giving him better access to the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “I was imagining that you were a Viking marauder and I was your plunder.”

  Liam went perfectly still. Except for his thick shaft that twitched wildly. “Did you resist me, Zoe?”

  She curled a leg around his hairy thigh, rubbing herself against him without shame. “I tried. But you smelled so good and you tasted like wine and decadence. I decided I had no choice but to cooperate.”

  The noise he made then was somewhere between a laugh and a curse. “I thought I was the one with Irish storytell
ing genes.”

  She flexed her fingers, testing the strength of the hands that manacled her wrists. “You inspire my imagination, Liam Kavanagh.”

  “Keep going. I’m intrigued.” He kissed her temple and each of her eyelids. The delicate caresses were in direct opposition to the way his hips pinned her to the wall.

  With her lower lip caught between her teeth, she pretended to ponder. “I suppose you could lift me and take me here and now, but it seems a mite dangerous with all this wet marble.”

  He bit her earlobe, sending a hot rush of blood to her core. “What other choice do we have?”

  It was hard to form a coherent thought. But Liam appeared to be caught up in her little fiction, so she struggled for the image that would entertain him. “Your servants have prepared a bed for you. With velvet covers and silken sheets.”

  “Sounds comfy.”

  His wry comment forced her to stifle a giggle. Trying to stay in character was a challenge. “You are determined that I will obey you, so you stretch out on your back and force me to service you.”

  Liam scooped her into his arms with a rash intensity that threatened to dump them both on the shower floor. He grabbed for a towel and ran it carelessly over her breasts. “Doesn’t matter if we’re wet,” he said, his expression agitated. “Define service.”

  She linked her arms around his neck. “I have to taste your manly desire.”

  One dark eyebrow shot to his hairline. “Manly desire? Seriously?”

  He deposited her on the bed and came down on top of her. “What happens next?”

  “You’re deviating from the plot.” She shoved at his unyielding chest. “I’m supposed to be on top.”

  Rolling over onto his back, he wrapped a hand around his shaft. “I doubt that Vikings ever let women get on top.”

  “Not for actual sex, maybe. But surely if they wanted to get comfortable while the woman—”

  “Tasted their manly desire?” His smile made her toes curl. “I’ll do my best to cooperate.”

  Now that she had him where she wanted him, she almost lost her nerve. What did she know about satisfying a man like Liam? Her two sexual partners, both nice men, but not in Liam’s league, had been quick off the mark and notably selfish.

  Which was why she had decided to take a moratorium from physical interactions with the opposite sex.

  But that high and mighty vow had evaporated when Bessie brought her to the Silver Beeches.

  Shoving Liam’s hand aside, she stretched out beside him on one elbow and stroked him from base to tip. “I’m pretty sure you promised to have me whipped if I don’t give you pleasure.”

  A tiny drop of fluid leaked from the head of his erection. His voice sounded like gravel when he spoke. “I would never whip anyone as lovely as you. It would be a crime to mark that skin.”

  “Then maybe you threaten me with being chained in your dungeons.”

  “Vikings didn’t have dungeons. They were always sailing on the high seas.”

  She sat up and glared at him. “Whose story is this, anyway?”

  He waved a hand. His eyelids closed, and a smug smile lifted his lips. “Sorry, Scheherazade. Please continue.”

  She pinched his bicep, hard enough to bruise him if his muscles hadn’t been so damned impressive. “No more talk from you.” Though he pretended acquiescence, she knew that he could turn the tables at any moment. Deciding to take advantage of his momentary passivity, she bent over him and took him in her mouth.

  “Sweet mother of God.” Apparently her admonition about silence hadn’t been taken seriously.

  She licked him lazily, loving the way his hands clenched convulsively against the sheets when she let him feel the edge of her teeth. A feeling of feminine power mixed curiously with the yearning to bind him to her forever. Why did she have to be so tempted by something she could never have? She knew nothing of what it meant to build a home and a community, to be part of a tight-knit circle of love.

  Most of her adult life had been spent in search of some elusive goal, an ephemeral vision of happiness. Now she could almost see the prize, but she had too many hurdles to cross before grasping it was possible.

  Forcing back the negative emotions, she concentrated on giving Liam pleasure. His male body was so different from hers; lean and powerful and beautiful in a way that had inspired sculptors in ages past.

  When she sensed she had pushed him too close to the edge, she drew back. “Did I please you, my Viking?”

  * * *

  Liam’s chest heaved with the force of his labored breaths. If Zoe the chanteuse had brought him to his knees, then Zoe the Siren had finished him. He felt drugged, almost insensate with the exact pleasure she had described in her provocative tale.

  It occurred to him that begging might not be his most manly option at this point, so he ground his teeth and sat up to stare at her. “Any more stories you want to tell?”

  Her eyes rounded as if she sensed his imminent takeover. “No. Not really.”

  It appeared that she had forgotten her nudity. Earlier, in the shower, he had sensed her mild embarrassment at the way his eyes ate her up. But now, she was oblivious to the fact that her beautiful nakedness made him ache.

  Without saying a word, he eased her onto her back. “Prepared to be ravaged, little captive.” At the last moment, he remembered protection. Groaning at his complete lack of savoir faire, he dropped his head forward and put his hands on his thighs. “Condoms?” he muttered.

  Zoe pointed. “In the vanity case. I hope they’re not out of date.”

  He stumbled to the bathroom, took care of business and returned in record time.

  Zoe lay exactly where he had left her, her arms outstretched above her head. Her hair had begun to dry in places. It was wavier now, giving her the look of a woman who had spent the last twenty-four hours in bed. She had one knee bent, with her foot planted against the mattress.

  When she heard his footsteps on the carpet, she opened her eyes and smiled. “I’ve been waiting forever, Liam.”

  He stood beside the bed, his hand braced on the bedpost. Looking down at her fresh, pale-skinned body was almost enough. If he had been a poet, the sight of her would surely have inspired a sonnet. “The time for waiting is over.” She had seduced him with song and then with her inventive imagination. “Tell me you want me, Zoe.”

  She arched her back, stretching from head to toe. “I do. I swear I do.”

  “Then we’re both on the same page.”

  He eased down beside her and took his time with a tactile exploration. Her personality was so big, but her body was delicate of frame, more so since she had been ill. Laying his cheek on her belly, he played idly with the tuft of curls. Zoe inhaled sharply when his fingertip skated over a little bundle of nerves.

  When he glanced up at her face, her eyes were squeezed shut and she had sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. Experimentally, he entered her with two fingers. The tight clasp of her body made him tremble. Soon, he was going to possess her. Completely.

  Gently he used those same two fingers to simulate the act of lovemaking. With his thumb he brushed her clitoris repeatedly. Zoe quivered at his touch and came with a quiet sigh that indicated her satisfaction. At least he hoped so.

  “There’s more,” he promised. Moving between her thighs, he fit the head of his erection at her entrance and pushed. Her passage gripped him in tight, moist heat as he slid all the way in. “Zoe,” he groaned. “What have you done to me?”

  She lifted her hips in invitation. “I might be able to go for round two. Just letting you know.”

  He chuckled hoarsely. “Always nice to get feedback.” Humor in bed was a new one for him. But with Zoe, all the good things in life seemed to be rolled up in one beautiful package. Tenderness. Creativity. Laughter. Desire.

  He moved in her deliberately, refusing to pick up the pace even when she wriggled beneath him and begged. The vision she made, lying beneath him with her face flushed in arousal, was a p
icture seared into his brain. He wanted to take her like this for hours. Every cell in his body was alive and humming with pleasure. He was hyperaware of his surroundings, all his senses on red alert.

  The scent of their warm skin mingled with the fragrance of the freshly washed sheets. Zoe’s limbs were sleek and strong as she curled her legs around his waist and clung to his shoulders.

  The sounds she made as she came, not once but twice while he thrust repeatedly between her soft, firm thighs, were earthy, ragged...exhausted at the end.

  The powerful surge of his impending climax left him breathless. He couldn’t hold on, couldn’t stretch the pleasure out one second longer. With a choked groan, his entire body shook in helpless release as he emptied himself until there was nothing left.

  * * *

  Zoe blinked as she tried to focus her reeling emotions. In a less ritzy hotel she might have found a water spot on the ceiling...something to latch onto while the universe cartwheeled around her.

  Three orgasms in an hour? Sometimes she’d been lucky to have one. Liam Kavanagh possessed an impressive amount of knowledge about the female anatomy.

  At the moment, he lay slumped on top of her, his body a heavy weight. That final go-round had short-circuited most of her synapses and left her feeling drunk and loopy with happiness.

  She poked him in the back. “Are you still breathing?”

  One male shoulder flinched as if to ward off a pesky fly. “No.”

  Since he couldn’t see her face at the moment, she gave in to the urge to smile like a lovesick teenager. All her life she had searched for a place to belong, and turned out, it wasn’t a place at all. It was a person.

  The way Liam looked at her, even when they weren’t in bed, made little bubbles fizz in her veins. She was pretty sure he saw her for who she really was. Not as an academic failure or an aimless wanderer, but a woman with worth and appeal. A woman who could make him laugh.

  They might have skipped some steps in their budding whatever-it-was, but that could be remedied. She owed him a few explanations. After all, a relationship couldn’t be built on evasions and half-truths.