Angel in Scarlet: A Bound and Determined Novel

by Lavinia Kent

  She squirmed against him, trying to push herself more directly against his fingers, but he refused to let her, keeping her there just at the edge, teasing, and then teasing some more.

  And then she could not stay silent.

  “Please.” She’d never thought to beg, but the word could not be held back.

  He smiled but said nothing, his fingers continuing their gentle play.

  He pushed up a little higher, stroking through her slickness.

  It felt so good, so very good.

  Her legs wanted to tense and collapse at the same time.

  He bent a little and placed his lips about her nipple, sucking it deep. It was so sensitive, even that was almost too much for her. Her head fell back; she stared up at the ceiling, lost in sensation.

  His teeth grazed her nipple. There was some pain, but the pleasure was overwhelming.

  The fingers between her legs found the perfect spot and began a slow, hard rub.

  The coil tightened further. She could feel it coming; she strained for it, feeling herself reaching that first great break.

  He pulled away.

  “No,” she whispered.

  He chuckled against her breast and began the stroke again.

  She was panting now, could feel the perspiration beading on her brow.

  He pulled his mouth back, blew on her hot damp flesh.

  One of his fingers circled her entrance, pressed in slightly and then withdrew. She wanted to sink down upon him, to…

  Oh yes. Yes. His fingers were on her clit again, working, squeezing.

  Now.

  Now.

  She needed it now.

  Almost. Almost.

  And then his stroke between her legs grew hard, fast…

  It came on her in a moment. Pleasure as she had never known.

  It filled her. Her body was nothing but sensation. Rainbows and black. Crystal and…

  Who needed words when…

  —

  He caught her as she fell, her whole body limp and soft. He lifted her and, turning her with care, laid her lengthwise upon the bed. She was not completely gone, but her eyes were blurred, her lips parted, her breathing shallow.

  Brushing the hair away from her face, he slid beside her on the bed, gazing into her eyes, waiting for that moment when she would choose to come back to him. Her eyes closed, although he could see movement beneath the thin lids. Leaning forward, he placed a kiss on each one. Her body turned toward his, cuddling in.

  After a minute, as her heart slowed, he eased away. Her body curved, following him—and he jerked as she brushed his cock, hard, swollen, demanding.

  She focused on him then, one of her hands reaching down to cup him. He pressed into her palm but did nothing further.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  He could sense her considering, could almost tell which part of her body her mind examined.

  “I am not sure. I feel as if I should apologize that you felt I was not ready.”

  “That is nonsense. It was my choice. I want you to be happy. I could never find pleasure if you did not find yours as well.”

  Her eyes lowered, and a deep blush crept up her already flushed cheeks. “I think we can safely say that I felt pleasure. And now—now I feel relaxed, as if I had not a worry in the world. Even when I try to think of my problems, they seem so trivial. It is like drifting in a warm sea.”

  “I am glad. I will let you rest.”

  “But what about you?” Her gaze ran down his body.

  “Just rest.” And ignoring his own discomfort, he pulled her close and let her drift.

  —

  Angela opened her eyes and stared about the cabin. Bright, dappled sunshine flowed through the windows and it was impossible to tell how late it was, how much time had passed. She rolled onto her side and stared up at Colton.

  She should not still be here. She should have returned to the house long ago—although how long ago she did not know. Would they be looking for her even now?

  Had she made up her mind without realizing it?

  Pushing up on her elbows, she considered the sleeping man beside her, even as he opened his eyes and stared up at her. He smiled in question.

  She smiled back, although she was not sure that it reached her eyes.

  “How do you feel?” he repeated the question he had asked before their slumber.

  “Physically I think I am fine, perhaps better than fine. My body feels soft and giggly. I know that is an odd word, but I do not have a better one. I feel light and airy and ready to stand on my toes and twirl, although that would require getting out of bed, and I do not want to move.”

  “I cannot say that I want you to move.” His eyes ran over her. “And yet I can tell something is bothering you.”

  She closed her eyes, staring at the inside of her lids, seeing the light through them. “I was trying to pretend it is earlier than it really is, trying to pretend that I had not willingly given up my choices. I knew that I did not truly have any left when you told me of Thorton, but still I clung to the illusion that if I talked to him, I could make him see reason. Now…now it seems I must truly face ruin or marry you. Everyone will assume I snuck out late last night.”

  His body grew stiff beside her. “I did not mean to do that to you. And I am not sure that you are any worse off than you were before. In truth, I think you gave up your choice that first night you showed me your breasts in the garden. You made yourself mine then, and I am not sure I would have willingly given you up after that.”

  She turned her head and looked at his face. “And that is why you brought in Granderson? That certainly seemed as if you were trying to claim me.”

  “I have said that I was trying to dissuade you, but I think in truth I was protecting myself. I realize that I have been reluctant to marry, for all that I professed to be looking for the right bride. I have had so little faith that the right bride existed that I could not believe it when you showed yourself to me, either literally or figuratively.”

  Was she willing to believe that? She searched his eyes for a clue. “And Vanessa—is that why you pursued her when you were courting me?”

  “I knew we would come back to that. It would be easy to say yes, but no, I think that was just me being the man I had always been. It never occurred to me not to continue my past relationships as I pursued a new one. It was simply how life had always been. And it never occurred to me that you, or any woman of quality, would ever know.”

  She didn’t know how to respond. She wanted to hold on to her anger. Whether he had considered it wrong or not, it surely had been. She waited for the bitterness to rise in her belly, but it did not.

  She placed a hand on her stomach, considering. “And you would not go to her, or another of her type, now?”

  “Never.” He said it with absolute conviction.

  No, she was not angry anymore, but that did not mean she had to make this easy. She sat, raising her arms, stretching them high over her head, knowing exactly what effect that would have as he focused on her swollen breasts. His eyes followed, as she had expected; his Adam’s apple bobbed.

  Her gazed dropped to his lap. It was impossible to mistake that hard outline. It seemed like forever since she had seen him without it. She was tempted to reach out and stroke, to caress, to play—to see how far he would let her take things.

  But other things must be decided first. With some reluctance, she settled back on the pillows. “They are probably looking for me now. Will they come here?”

  “Not soon. They will search all of Lady Perse’s estate first; there are probably several guests out riding since just after dawn, and they will need to be sure that you are not among them. Then they will check all the walking trails. And checking the house alone will take hours. In fact, that is probably a way you can still escape this. You could slip into the house and pretend to have fallen asleep in one of the empty rooms while looking at the paintings. I think the second floor of the south wing is st
ill vacant. Even if the rooms have been searched, it would still be possible that you were sleeping in a chair in some corner—and that is assuming that they are searching. Will your mother or your maid truly be raising such a fuss?”

  Angela considered. “Probably not yet, perhaps not for hours—for all she will have noticed my absence quickly. My mother would not want to risk a scandal if there was none to be had, but neither will she want to sit and wait and worry. At some point she will begin to ask questions. I cannot imagine that she will let me miss luncheon.”

  “You have a few hours, then.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He leaned to the side and pulled a pocket watch off the table, holding it out to her. It was barely past eight.

  Her mother was probably not even awake yet. Her maid was another story—but her maid would wait until later to report to her mother. “So what do we do?”

  Colton reached out and took her hand. “I am trying to be sure I understand. Did you just accept my proposal a few minutes ago—or were you still saying you would rather be ruined?”

  “I don’t suppose I actually did say.”

  “Well?”

  She blew out softly. “I think I am saying that I have made my mind up that I cannot refuse you.”

  “So that is a yes?”

  “I think it is an ‘I would like you to ask again.’ ”

  He looked confused.

  “I would like a memory of saying yes that does not involve Thorton and worry.”

  He pressed his hips against her. “Does that mean we cannot celebrate a wedding morning a little early?”

  She turned toward him. “I suppose that we might. It would be good to know what I am getting. And perhaps we can meet at the folly on the way to the house—strictly by chance, of course. Then you can ask me again, before we head to the house. I would like to wait until this is all behind us, but I am sensible enough to realize how much simpler life will be if we walk back together to share our happy news.”

  “You do not sound happy.”

  “It is not the way I dreamed it.”

  He stared up at the beams that crossed the ceiling. “I don’t know what to wish. Part of me wishes to go back and do it the way you dreamed, but”—he turned to look at her, at her swollen breasts—“I am not sure that I would have discovered so much about you if we had proceeded in that fashion.”

  “No, I daresay you might not have.” It was all too easy to imagine a world in which she had stayed quiet and obedient, as she had intended, working to be the wife she thought he wanted instead of the one he just might need.

  He lifted a hand and traced the edge of her lowered bodice. “So what else do you think we should learn about each other?”

  She glanced down again at his lap and swallowed. “It might be good to know if we actually fit together. I know that you have assured me that we will, but the whole thing does seem quite impossible to me. I am not a large woman.”

  “And you think that I am a large man?”

  “Well, you are several inches…taller than most.”

  “I will grant you that. And as for any other measurement, I must confess I have not compared.”

  She’d heard enough of her brother’s childhood comments to think that at some time he must have, but she would not argue the point. “Then we had better be safe and give it a try. I would hate to discover once we were married that it would not work.”

  He laughed, clear and full. “Ahh, I do love you, Angela. That I do.”

  She froze.

  Could he possibly mean it? Their eyes met, but she was not quite sure what she saw there. Heat. Yes. Emotion. Definitely. Love? What did love look like?

  She waited for him to say something, to say anything, but he remained quiet.

  Should she say it back? No, that would be giving it weight, would force a confrontation that she was not sure she was ready for.

  “Oh,” she replied, not sure what else to say. “Then let us proceed. How exactly does this work?”

  He slipped off the bed and stood, clearly grateful for the chance to retreat. “To begin, why don’t I help you off with that dress? It must be awfully uncomfortable at this moment. And if we shake it out and lay it over a chair, I am sure that some of the wrinkles would fall out. You do not want to show up looking as if you’ve been sleeping in your clothes.”

  “Yes, I do think that would make sense. Are you sure you are up to playing the lady’s maid?”

  “I think I will manage. Now, slide from the bed and stand beside me.”

  “Yes, my lord,” she replied in her most demure voice.

  “I do see you know how to behave. Perhaps I will not have to punish you.”

  Why did her insides spark when he said the word punish? “I do like to make you happy.”

  “Then obey.”

  She slid from the bed slowly, letting her skirts bunch up to show her long, naked legs. His eyes followed, from calf to thigh to…No, she wasn’t letting her skirt go that high—at least not for a few more seconds.

  When her feet reached the floor, she stood and turned her back. His fingers settled about her neck, stroking, encompassing. She bowed her head in surrender.

  His lips touched the back of her neck, pressing tender kisses, a soft taste, a few more kisses—and then one swift nip at the side. A definite mark of ownership.

  Her toes curled.

  His fingers trailed down her upper back to reach her laces. A few pulls and tugs, and she felt her dress loosen and then fall. She caught it just below her breasts, prepared to turn and then let it drop the rest of the way slowly.

  “No,” he commanded. “I want to see your back, see your ass.”

  That tone of voice sent a burst of heat through her.

  “My ass?” She’d thought he’d want to stare at her breasts some more.

  He didn’t say anything but stood still and quiet.

  Obediently, she let her arms hang by her sides. The dress caught for a moment of its own accord at her hips and then slid down to pool about her on the floor. She shivered. The room was colder than she had realized, despite the heat she knew lay in Colton’s gaze. Her weight shifted from foot to foot as he remained silent.

  His bare feet padded on the floor. She couldn’t remember him removing his boots, but he must have, perhaps while she’d been asleep—or even before that, when he joined her in the bed. The thought distracted her, let her imagine that she was not standing there naked waiting for—waiting to have marital relations, to have sex, to be fucked. She played the last word out in her mind, trying to decide if she liked it.

  It did make her feel naughty, almost dirty, but in a most delicious way.

  She almost turned but forced herself to remain still, staring at the huge bed and the window beyond.

  She was going to do this. She was really going to do this. She was going to give herself to Colton, completely.

  It seemed almost odd with all the things they had done that this should remain such an event, but the thought of him actually inside her was still impossible to comprehend.

  Deep breath in. Deep breath out. She trusted him, she truly did.

  “Your ass is like a ripe peach, just as I remembered,” he said. A finger traced a sore spot on her left cheek. “And I can still see where I took the first bite. Now, bend over and place your hands on the bed.”

  Chapter 24

  Angela trembled slightly as she bent forward. She wasn’t showing him anything he hadn’t seen before. It shouldn’t have felt so awkward, but still she hesitated as she began to lean.

  Placing her hands on the bed, she let her head fall forward. She wondered whether to lean slightly so that she could rest it there too.

  His voice was low and deep and husky—and so very intimate. “You are so beautiful, so very wet and sweet, my angel. Do you like displaying yourself for me as much as I like looking at you?”

  Closing her eyes, she felt the heat rise up her cheeks. At least he could not see her face. �
�Yes,” she whispered. “Do I please you?”

  “Always. Just being near you pleases me.”

  And then all was silent except for the slight guttering of the dying candles and the rising whistle of the wind through the trees outside.

  His voice interrupted, hoarse and needy. “Move your feet farther apart. A little more. More. Good.”

  The cool air of the cabin hit her most secret places, making her even more aware of them. Now she did lay her head forward, relaxing, waiting.

  Colton’s breathing was loud. She could hear his every inhale and exhale, hear the sudden starts and stops.

  Was he pleasuring himself as he had before? It was so easy to imagine his hand moving, the long slow stroke, the steady pressure, the near-purple head shiny with moisture, that single throbbing vein.

  The thought made her breathless. She wanted to taste him again, to feel his weight within her mouth.

  Only she wanted him in her. Her very core ached with want and need.

  She could feel her own wetness on her thighs, feel the ever-tightening coil of her clit.

  God, she wanted to touch herself, wanted him to touch her.

  She almost begged.

  Then he was stroking up her leg, his fingers massaging her eager flesh.

  She started to turn.

  “Stay still.”

  A finger drifted down her leg, then started up again at her ankle and ran along her calf, pausing to tickle the back of her knee, circling, playing, teasing.

  Then higher.

  It reached the upper swell of her thigh but moved no higher before sweeping down to slowly rise again on the other.

  More. She wanted more. Needed more.

  A quiet moan slipped through her lips.

  “Do you want more, my angel?”

  “Please.”

  The touch moved up to the very top of her thighs, pausing before the apex.

  Another moan.

  “Patience. Patience.”

  All she wanted was to rub herself against him like a cat being petted.

  He moved his hand slightly higher, letting it part her damp curls.

  And higher still, until it hit that magic spot.