Devon dropped a towel on a nearby chair and she held her breath. But he didn't pull off the dark swim shorts he wore. She sucked in a breath of both relief and disappointment as he dove in.
"Coward," she said, when he emerged from his dive, halfway down the pool.
"I live here with sisters and lots of servants," he said coolly. "I can't be as carefree as some others can." He began swimming with long, powerful strokes.
Miranda realized she'd have to swim slowly to avoid getting exhausted. She wanted him to get his laps in before she executed the next part of her plan. Otherwise, he might ignore her in favor of his exercise. Which was a lowering thought, but he was nothing if not disciplined.
She continued with a leisurely breast stroke, fighting the annoyance when he lapped her continuously. When she finished another mile, she figured he must have done three times that.
He was going strong, but she was tired. She swam to the side of the pool nearest her chair, keeping an eye on him all the while. He was a treat to watch, still powering through the water with as much grace and beauty as when he'd started. She saw only his head and his arms, but she could all too easily imagine those powerful arms reaching for her…wrapping around her…pulling her tightly against his body. A sigh escaped her. If only he'd exit the pool so she could see his swim trunks clinging to him. Maybe that would be enough for tonight.
Drawing a deep breath for courage, she grasped the edge of the pool. His rhythm faltered, just for a second, but she knew he was watching her, since she'd waited to move until he executed a turn at the far end of the pool and was swimming back toward her.
She pulled herself out of the water, naked as the day she was born. Then she leaned forward to get her feet under her.
He stopped swimming.
Although she was pretending to be unconscious of his movements, pretending a casualness she didn't actually feel, she was well aware of the moment when the water stopped rippling, indicating that he'd halted.
She sauntered over to the lounge chair, shaking her wet head a bit. His eyes were glued to her, something she knew with one hundred percent certainty, even though she couldn't see him at all. But she could feel his gaze burning her.
When she bent over to pick up a towel, he sucked in a quick breath. Her heart pounded with excitement and fear. If only she could turn around and see what he was doing. Was he angry, aroused, amused?
She knew he was not indifferent, because he had not resumed swimming.
Then she turned around, and sat down on the edge of the pool chair, giving him a full-frontal view. She reached behind herself, not moving as quickly as she wanted to, picked up another towel, and wrapped it around herself.
"There!" She sounded as brainless as Tweety bird. "Nobody saw a thing."
"I saw lots of…things." His deep voice rumbled in the darkness.
She laughed. "No one made you look."
With two strokes, he was at the side of the pool. "Let's see how far you're willing to go. Jiggle those things for me."
"Goodness." She managed a light laugh. "I'd better get dressed."
She stood, picked up her thin cotton dress, and well, she had to do it. She dropped the towel and then pulled the dress, as slowly as she dared, over her head. It settled down around her, but she knew it was reasonably transparent when she stood in the full light of the moon, because she'd checked earlier.
When her vision cleared, she jumped in alarm.
Devon had climbed silently out of the pool, and was standing in front of her, his hair slicked back, his broad shoulders providing a sturdy platform for translucent drops of water, and his hands clenched in fists at his sides. A drop slithered down his torso, right where her finger had been yesterday.
She could not afford to be aroused by his quiet dominance, or she would lose control of her scheme. Picking up a towel, she rubbed it against her head.
"Are you trying to provoke me," he said, "or does it just come naturally?"
She dropped the towel, shook back her hair, and took a step toward him. "I was out here minding my own business. You—" she poked him in the chest "—are the one who showed up and started criticizing me."
"Anyone could have found you in the pool. What if I'd been Godfrey?" He grabbed the finger that had been poking him.
"For crying out loud! I would have asked him to turn his back so I could get a towel."
"You didn't ask me to turn my back." His big hand, cool with water drops, hot from his inner heat, curled around hers.
"You're a grown man," she said breathlessly. And some part of the grown man in front of her was growing right now, despite the cold water and the cool night, and it was pressing against her with eager demand.
"I thought you'd be able to get over the sight of a naked woman," she added, her voice faint as she looked up into his hot gaze.
"That's where you're wrong. At least, not when the naked woman is you." He pulled on her captured hand, she cried out and stumbled forward and then she was in his arms.
Body to body.
Mouth to mouth.
Something she knew instantly was a big mistake because he wasn't wearing anything but the swim trunks, and she wore nothing but the light cotton dress.
His wet body plastered her dress to him, and the overwhelming effect was that they were almost naked. Almost, except for two excruciatingly thin layers.
She'd been cold in the cool night air after leaving the pool, but now she burned as his hot mouth devoured hers.
His hand grasped the back of her head, and held her in place as his mouth moved down her neck, trailing hot kisses and sharp nips that stretched desire from her core to her surface. She grabbed his shoulders and held on, feeling more afloat than she had when in the pool.
Since she didn't seem anchored to the ground, she wrapped a leg around his hips, clinging like a barnacle to a ship. More importantly, she needed to open herself to the bulge that teased her at just the wrong angle. His hips moved as he bent his knees and then he cursed under his breath and grabbed her other leg. He pulled it around his hip and raised his head just enough to say, "Hang on. We're moving."
Chapter 16
Devonwood's words didn't totally register on Miranda because she was too busy rubbing against him, trying to find the sweet spot where the part of him that was reaching out for her nestled against the part of her that was yearning for him.
When he walked, the sweet pressure shifted and pressed into her irresistibly.
A soft light clicked on and she blinked open her eyes, disoriented. "Where are we?"
"Spa," he said shortly. He placed her on some sort of horizontal surface, and then leaned over and stripped her dress off over her head.
"What are you doing?" Her arms automatically moved to cover her naked body. She was supposed to be teasing him. How had he taken control so easily?
"You've already shown me the works," he said. "No need for modesty now." Both of his hands slid under her crossed arms and moved slowly up to clasp her breasts. She shuddered with pleasure. Her arms fell to her sides, and his dark gaze feasted on her exposed breasts.
The light he must have turned on glowed dimly from across the room, bright enough to show everything, but soft enough to be unobtrusive. He stood beside her, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark head tilted down to gaze at her.
"I…I didn't intend to do this," she gasped. The cool and formal duke had disappeared. This was a warm, vibrant, aroused man confronting her. He wouldn't stop where she'd planned to stop.
"Sure you did." His deep voice caressed her like it was a piece of soft velvet being drawn over all her exposed skin. "A woman doesn't flaunt herself naked in front of a man she's not interested in." He leaned down.
"Interested is not the same as consenting," she managed. But his mouth was closing over her nipple, and her brain shut down, except for one faint thought. She could always say 'No'.
And she would.
In just a minute.
He raised his head and kisse
d her, his mouth hard and demanding, his tongue thrusting deep inside her. At the same time, his thumbs feathered over her nipples, teasing her with their rough edges. She arched her back to try to get closer, but he held her rooted in place.
"Patience," he murmured, as his mouth moved down her neck again, kissing and biting. She reached for him blindly, touching the front of his wet swim trunks briefly, before his hand grabbed hers.
"A non-consenting woman," he said, his voice a rumble, "doesn't grab a man where he's…vulnerable."
Her eyes flew open. He was turning her down?
No, he couldn't be. Because she didn't intend to have sex with him. She was merely teasing him—
"Not yet," he said gruffly. "I'm too wound up, minx." He moved her hand from his body.
"I want to touch you." Her voice was thin, and needy.
"Later." He flipped her over, and his mouth found the back of her neck. He grazed her neck, his teeth sharp and scraping on her sensitive skin. She moaned with pleasure.
"Hold onto this." He picked up her hands and pulled them up, folding them over the edge of the surface she was on.
Ah. She was on a massage table. It was firm underneath her, but comfortable, except for the fact that her breasts were a little squashed. But that was a minor discomfort compared to the thrill of his warm hands stroking lightly over her. He started at her shoulders, and slid slowly down her back, caressing her gently.
She stiffened when he got to her buttocks, but he only caressed them lightly before trailing down her legs. Her entire body jumped to life. When he'd thoroughly awakened every one of her nerve endings, he moved back to her shoulders, and began kneading them firmly. God. He knew exactly what he was doing. His strong hands probed and pummeled, and delighted her as he moved down her back again, this time with strength and purpose.
Relaxation mixed with arousal trailed in his wake.
He moved once more to her butt and she stiffened with embarrassment. She couldn't be lying here naked while the Duke of Devonwood caressed her butt.
"Relax," he said in his deep voice. One hand intruded to the space between her thighs, and she felt her legs pushed open. He returned to her butt, stroking, rubbing, an occasional finger slipping down.
She struggled to retain coherent thought.
"I think that's enough massage," she managed, although moans slipped around her words.
"But you offered me your body," he murmured. "Out there by the pool. I haven't finished appreciating it yet." He moved down to her thighs, gripping, squeezing, sending tendrils of pleasure everywhere.
"I offered you a look," she gasped. "Nothing more."
"If you say so." His hands continued to stroke her, however, as if her words held no power to stop him.
Maybe he'd only do her back? It felt so wonderful. She clung to that delusion until he turned her over. His hands went straight to her breasts, covering them. He spread his palms.
"You have a beautiful body," he said, his gaze traveling over her. The lighting was dim, but he could certainly see that her nipples were peaked, her back already arched, and her legs spread wantonly. She thought he'd accomplished that spreading when he turned her over. One of his hands had been on her thigh, and now her thighs were spread wide, with her lower legs hanging off each side of the massage table.
He touched her right between her spread thighs. "Are you as close as you seem to be?" His eyes gleamed at her, showing heat, and hunger, and a kind of smug male satisfaction.
"No," she moaned. "You need to stop."
"Were you just teasing me then? You swam naked in my pool. You spread your legs on my lounge chair. What was I supposed to think?"
His crisp British accent feathered over her with another layer of pleasure.
She couldn't answer. Her brain wasn't functioning right now. As he touched her, her hips writhed and twisted in the exact invitation he thought he'd received. She couldn't deny that.
Dimly, she remembered thinking that it would be a good idea to tease him so he'd want to get rid of her. At least, that's what she'd told herself. But, lying here on his massage table, her body buzzing with desire, she knew one thing with certainty. She was in far more danger of succumbing to his appeal than vice versa.
His hands and lips alone had nearly brought her to orgasm, and he was still dressed. Anything that followed was bound to be explosive. Perhaps even all-consuming.
She had made a serious miscalculation. His manner might be cold and controlling, his demeanor uncaring. But he knew how to make a woman think that the only thing that mattered in her life was her body, and the pleasure it could experience.
She did not want to be in thrall to someone with that kind of power.
She lifted her head. "I didn't know you'd react so strongly."
"Yes, you did," he said. "Be honest. We've both known from the first moment I touched you that we'd go up in flames together at some point."
She stared into his hot eyes, unable to speak.
He leaned closer, and his hands flattened on her thighs. "You were so cool there in the water, with your long black hair, and your witchy eyes. I had to have you."
She understood the subtext. What he wanted, he got. That was the way life went when you were a duke.
He lowered his head just a bit more, slowly, so she couldn't misunderstand his intention.
He licked her between her legs. Her hips shot off the table. He licked her again, even as one hand slapped against her hips to hold her down. "Tell me 'no' once more," he said, "and this is over."
What would be over? Would he kick her out of his house for good? Did that even matter, when his strong tongue was slowly licking everything important with an expertise that proved she'd been right about his sophistication? He knew precisely how to bend a woman to his will. Everything within her tightened to focus on that one spot.
At the last possible second before she climaxed, he raised his head. "I don't hear you," he said, his voice a dark growl.
She could only whimper.
He pulled her down to the end of the table and bent her knees to put her feet on the edge. Then he yanked down his swim trunks, watching her as she watched him, and she gave up any thought of protest when she finally saw him naked and splendid before her. Her body wept and yearned for him, until he gave a short laugh.
He strode over to a wall of drawers, yanked out a few and shoved them back when he found what he wanted.
When he returned, he was dressed for sex, and she was beyond worrying about where this was taking her. She held out her arms. "Hurry."
He laughed again, bent down, and attached his mouth to her once more. She began to convulse immediately and he licked her through her first orgasm. Then he grasped her bent knees, spread her legs wide, and slowly pushed into her.
That was the last slow moment they had for a while. As soon as he'd gotten himself firmly lodged inside her, he bent over her. "Brace yourself," he whispered. "I told you that you'd wound me up tight, and now you're in for a rough ride."
His mouth closed over one nipple, and he pulled hard, at the same time as he began to pound into her. She flung her arms around his back, feeling his muscles bunch and heave. He hitched himself higher on her body. She cried out, dug in her nails, and he grunted in satisfaction.
She had one moment to marvel that she'd turned the uber-cool Duke of Devonwood into this groaning, sweating, panting sex machine, and then her own spiraling bliss pushed all else out of her mind.
For long moments stretching to infinity, she pulsed around him as he slammed his body into hers.
When he was finished, he sprawled heavily on her for one minute. Maybe two. Then he straightened up and pulled out slowly. His face gleamed with sweat, and his expression was impassive. She couldn't begin to know what he was thinking. Until he turned slightly away, presumably to remove the condom. He walked back over to the wall of shelves, dropped it in a trash can, and returned to scoop his swim trunks off the floor.
Still, he didn't say a word.
He pulled on the trunks and looked down at her, his gaze scanning her briefly from head to toe. "Don't try to manipulate me with sex," he said calmly. "You can't win at that game."
Miranda saw red. He thought he'd dismiss her casually like that?
Turn the tables on him, she reminded herself.
With a great effort, she yawned and stretched, arching her back and spreading her arms wide. Under her eyelids, she caught his gaze glomming onto her breasts. Right. He wasn't as indifferent as he pretended.
"Yeah, you figured me out," she said lazily. "It was worth a try. But don't worry. I won't make the same mistake again."
His gaze narrowed. "If you stay, we're not done in bed."
"Oh, but we are." She raised herself on her elbows. "It was…nice. But we don't need to repeat it."
He approached the massage table and leaned over, dropping his hands on the sides and looking into her face. "Nice," he said, "is having an umbrella in the rain. What we just had is like falling into the sun."
Chapter 17
"That tulle bow needs to be just a bit fuller right here."
Sarah pointed to the spot, and Miranda realized her friend was exactly right. It was fun and helpful to have another fashionista to work with. Sarah was an invaluable sounding board when Miranda was debating a certain piece of trim, or the angle of a feather.
They'd been up since dawn working in the nursery. If they were going to pull off this fashion event at the garden party, they both had a lot of work to do. Miranda enjoyed the companionship as they each worked at their separate endeavors. It was nice to put aside her worries about everything else and flex her creative muscles. The tall nursery windows opened up the room to plenty of natural light and the palace surrounded them with a feeling of beauty and permanence that soothed her. Anything seemed possible in such a luxurious womb.
When hunger drove them downstairs, Devon and his dogs were emerging from the breakfast room.
"Good morning, ladies." His gaze settled on Miranda like a caress. Her body went pliant, except for her nipples, which buzzed into hard points. With a feeling of desperation, she tried to force her mind away from him. She'd thrown the sexual dice last night, and lost. She couldn't do that again. No more flirting. No more fantasizing. And, definitely, no more action.
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 124