Finally, she lifted her red, tear-streaked face to his. And even then she was lovely. She smiled up at him, a siren calling him to an island where he knew he would be destroyed. And yet she drew him in regardless.
“War,” she whispered, and she leaned up into him, her lips brushing his.
He had dreamed of kissing Claire for nearly a decade. He had dreamed of doing so much more. And there was an animal part of him that screamed at him to grasp her waist, to pull her tight to him, to let her feel that he still wanted her. And then to strip her out of those clothes and bury himself as deeply as he would go into her body. To burn a claim on her with his passion and make her forget her pain for a little while.
But instead, he pulled away, gently removing her from his arms and setting her aside before he backed up. She watched him go, her face twisted with confusion and her gaze cloudy with what he knew was desire.
“We’ll talk more about it tomorrow, Claire,” he said, wishing he could draw a full breath but finding it impossible. “For now, go to sleep.”
She shook her head. “No. War, I want to—”
He cut her off by lifting his hand. He did not want to know what she wanted. Right now what she wanted was clouded by emotion and manipulation. He wasn’t going to have her that way.
“It will keep until tomorrow,” he insisted as he motioned to the bed where she had found him. “Go to sleep.”
She followed the movement of his finger and stared at his rumpled bed. “Where will you sleep?” she asked.
“In a stall in the stable,” he said. “Good night.”
She said nothing. He didn’t allow her the opportunity. He just turned on his heel and left. But as he shut the door behind him, he thought he heard her quiet voice whisper, “Good night, War.”
He leaned against the door, his heart pounding and his cock throbbing as his eyes adjusted to the darker corridors of the stable. His mind reeled with all that had occurred tonight.
His body wasn’t far behind. It was currently punishing him for turning away what was obviously Claire’s offer of a night of pure pleasure.
“Fuck,” he muttered as he walked away from the room behind him.
He swept up a folded blanket from a pile on a bench and then moved into a stall a few paces away from his room. It was the stall of his own horse, Shakespeare, and the fine stallion cocked his ears toward his master and gave him what War could only believe was a quizzical look. Judgmental for a damned horse.
“Don’t you make a sound,” he admonished. “I’m beating myself up enough already, I don’t need your damned advice, especially when it comes to women.”
He tossed the blanket into a corner and flopped onto the sweet, fresh hay. As he pulled the blanket up around his waist, he groaned. What had he done?
Ever since leaving behind the life he’d led in London with his brother, War had avoided situations that would put him in the way of danger and intrigue. And now he had placed himself right in the middle of one once again. If Claire had her way, he would be forced to see Jack. And he was certain his older brother would have strings attached to any offer he extended to help her. If he would help her at all. The last words War had exchanged with Jack had been less than pleasant. His brother could easily refuse to see them.
More than that, War was putting himself in a situation where his control would be tested. Claire had always tested it. But now she knew it in a way she hadn’t known it when she was an innocent. Before this was over, it was clear they were going to be together. Claire wouldn’t take no for an answer for long. And while his cock throbbed at the knowledge that he would know her intimately, his mind spun.
Claire had always been more than a temptation in mere body. Her smile had set him on his heels, her intelligence had made him want to be able to match her, her laughter had been a balm on a soul she hadn’t even realized was broken.
She made him want a life he knew he couldn’t have. Especially not with her.
“Fuck,” he muttered again as he pulled the scratchy blanket all the way over his head.
Only he knew sleep wouldn’t come. And if it did, it would be accompanied by dreams that wouldn’t lessen this pulsating need that pounded through his veins.
So either way he lost. As had always been the way with Claire.
Chapter Four
The transition from the bright afternoon sun to the dimly lit stable was a hard one. War slid the stable door shut behind him with the heel of his boot and struggled not to drop the tray in his arms. As his eyes adjusted, he stared up the long aisle toward the tack room in the back. His room.
His room, where Claire still resided.
He took a long breath and carried the tray up the corridor and set it on a table beside the chamber. He opened the door and peeked in.
She was sprawled out on his bed, blonde hair across his pillows. They would smell of her now. Smell of her clean, citrus scent that made him hard in a second. She shifted, her eyes still shut in sleep, and his sheets slipped down, revealing one perfect breast.
Christ, she was naked. Totally naked. In his bed. He stared at that gorgeous breast. Not too big, with a dusky pink nipple that just begged to be sucked until it grew rigid with desire.
He swallowed hard, but couldn’t look away.
Claire stirred a little and her eyes fluttered open. She stared at him for a moment, standing in the doorway, then slowly lifted her head.
“Good morning,” she said, sliding the sheet up to cover herself, though she didn’t act offended or even surprised that he had seen her in such a state. She smiled, even. Was it taunting or friendly? He couldn’t tell when all the blood in his body was feeding his cock, not his brain.
“Not quite morning anymore,” he said, forcing himself to function. He turned to grab the tray from the table and entered the room. “It’s just after noon.”
Her eyes went wide. “Truly? I can’t believe how long I slept.”
He pushed the door shut behind himself and set the tray on the bed beside her. “Here. And I’m not surprised. With all you’ve been through, it was obvious you were exhausted.”
She wouldn’t look at him, but grunted a noncommittal response and then dove into the food on the tray. She ate like a person who hadn’t had a good meal in years. Perhaps she hadn’t. There was nothing graceful about the way she shoveled the food into her mouth, but it was very authentic.
She grabbed a piece of toast last and spread a thick layer of strawberry preserves across it before she took a huge bit.
“Oh my God,” she moaned, the sound almost orgasmic. “The jam. Mrs. Ford’s famous jam. I had almost forgotten about it. I tried to forget, I suppose, is a better statement.”
War frowned, but said nothing as she finished the rest of the toast and wiped her hands on the provided napkin. She let her gaze flit over him.
“Is Mrs. Ford here?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “She is in London with the family. Her jam, though, is still a favorite amongst the limited staff that remains.”
She nodded. “And does the limited staff know of my whereabouts?”
He pressed his lips together. “I wouldn’t betray you, Claire. There are no more than five of us here when the family is out of town. The others are busy with their own duties. No one would dare question me even if they suspected I had a naked woman in my bed right now.”
Her gaze flitted to his lips. “Because you have them in your bed so often?” she asked softly. He refused to answer, but merely stared at her. She leaned closer. “We need to talk about a plan.”
He shook his head. “Not today.”
“Not today?” she repeated, the softness leaving her voice. “War—”
“No,” he repeated firmly, edging closer. “Claire, you are ragged. I see it in your eyes, it is written on your face. You need to rest right now.”
“I don’t want rest.”
He huffed out a breath, but any argument he would have
said was silenced when she set the tray on the floor beside the bed and rose to her feet. She made no effort to take the sheet with her, so she was utterly naked now.
He knew what she was doing. How she was attempting to manipulate him to get what she wanted. And he didn’t give a damn. He stared, drinking in the gorgeous body before him. She was perfection, exactly what he’d always pictured, dreamed about. Her small breasts tapered to a trim waist and her hips had a slight swell. She had long, lithe legs, the kind he wanted around him so very badly.
“Claire—” he began, somehow finding the strength to back away.
“What do I have to do to make you help me, War?”
She moved closer still. Her hips twitched as she eased toward him. His back was suddenly pressed to the wall of the chamber and she leaned into him, letting him feel the softness of her curves.
He should have set her away as he had the night before. He should have refused her and admonished her for trying to use their mutual attraction against him.
He should have avoided her kiss. But as she lifted up into him, her breath soft against his lips, he didn’t do anything except let her kiss him. And he knew this time he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself from having what he wanted.
Claire had wanted to kiss War, to touch War, for as long as she could remember. She had dreamed of this moment so many times as an innocent girl. Those dreams had never gone away—they had only become increasingly erotic as her sexual knowledge grew.
She had never dreamed of it like this, though, with her seducing him for personal gain. But it didn’t matter, did it? It didn’t lessen her reaction as her lips brushed his. She still wanted him. That, at least, was pure.
His lips tasted like mint, clean when mixed with the sweet strawberry flavor that still lingered in her mouth. She darted out her tongue, tracing the crease between those full lips, and he made a deep sound of longing in his chest.
Last night he had turned the tables on her in an instant when he caught her creeping in his chamber. Today, he did the same. His arms came around her suddenly and he turned her so that her back was pinned to the rough wall. He caught both her wrists in one of his big hands and slammed them above her head, holding them there as he leaned into her, driving his tongue into her mouth. She gasped as all the air left her lungs, all the thoughts exited her mind and her body trembled to life.
Hot, wet need pulsed through her, settling between her legs and making her arch up against his chest so that the rough fabric of his jacket scraped across her already hard and tingling nipples. Her knees buckled with her response to the stimulus, but it didn’t matter. He was supporting her now, keeping her upright as he pressed the hard cock beneath his trousers into her belly. She remembered what it looked like. She couldn’t wait to feel it inside of her.
“Please,” she murmured, forgetting slow seduction to get what she wanted from him. “Please.”
He drew back and looked down at her, locking his gaze with hers. Her breath caught. She had always been captivated by War’s dark brown eyes. Inside there was a world of depth to them, a whisper of sadness, an edge of hardness, a tiny hint of a smile he rarely let touch his lips. Today she saw need, hot and powerful, almost out of control, and she shivered. Could she take it?
He released her without a word and thrust his jacket away. He nearly tore his shirt in two as he unbuttoned it and tossed it on the floor. Then he shoved off his boots and removed his trousers too.
She stared, even though she had seen him like this the night before. Now she was going to have him. There was no doubt about that. He looked too wild to stop himself from taking what he so obviously wanted. She felt too wild herself to even think to ask him to deny them both.
She reached out, hand trembling, and brushed the tips of her fingers down the length of his hard cock. His skin was impossibly soft over the steely proof of his desire. He hissed out a moan of pleasure, but then he stole her control again. Her hands were pinned above her once more, denying her the ability to touch him.
He leaned in slowly, his gaze holding hers until she desperately wanted to turn away from the intimacy of it. He smiled before he brushed the rough whiskers of his beard against the curve of her breast. His cock pushed at her stomach, now bare and hot, and she lifted as if she could force him to take her.
He didn’t. Instead, he closed his lips over one of her distended nipples and began to suck hard. Her back arched as pleasure mixed with just a hint of pain sliced through her quaking body. This was like being awoken after a long sleep. Suddenly she remembered what it was like to be touched and anticipate more, to ache to be filled. To have a need that felt impossible to slake.
He switched to the opposite breast now, sucking and teasing with his tongue until she was panting, lifting her hips in time to his licks. He dragged his hot mouth up her chest, along her sensitive neck, and finally he kissed her again. She sank into the kiss, drawing him in to her, surrendering to the pleasure just that simple act created.
He released her arms, but didn’t stop kissing her. He cupped her backside, lifting her up, and she didn’t stop. Only when he folded her bare legs around his waist, only when she felt the heavy tip of his cock at her entrance did she pull back to look into his eyes.
“I’ve waited so long for this,” she whispered.
He nodded. Then he pushed and her body opened to him, stretching to accommodate his size. She cried out with pleasure as he slipped into her, joining with her. As soon as he was fully seated, he began to thrust. Hard, long thrusts that made her cling to his shoulders for purchase.
He turned her, keeping his body inside of hers as he carried her across the room to press her down on his bed. She arched into him, rubbing her clitoris against his pelvis as he took her. The pleasure built at a rapid speed, faster than she had ever experienced it, even on lonely nights when she’d turned to her own hand for relief. Her eyes went wide as her orgasm hit and she bucked beneath him, wailing out her pleasure.
He slowed his thrusts as she came down from that ultimate high and stared down into her face even as he continued to rock against her gently.
“You are so beautiful when you come, Claire,” he whispered. “So beautiful that I want to see it again.”
She caught her breath. She had assumed that once she found her release, he would swiftly follow. She could feel that he was on the edge, she could see it in his stare that he wanted to come. But instead he began to twist his hips against her, slow circles that pressed inside and against her in just the right way. But this time the pleasure didn’t rush up in her—it was a low, quiet burn, a fire built from tiny embers into a roaring flame with each swivel of his strong hips.
It was torture, and she lifted to force his movement, but he refused, using his superior strength to continue just as he wished to go. It was bliss, and she mewled out her desire and pleasure. It was everything she had always imagined when she pictured this moment in his arms.
He smoothed curls from her face, watching her intently, and she couldn’t force herself to look away. She was his slave, his captive, and yet there was no place else she would rather be.
Her body convulsed at last, the pleasure exploding from the flame like a powder keg that had finally ignited. As she bucked beneath him, he increased his thrusts, pounding harder and harder, driving her higher and higher until he finally withdrew from her clenching body and barked out his own release away from her.
He collapsed against her, drawing her to his chest as he rolled to his side, smoothing her hair as their breath slowed and matched, as she felt his heart rate slow beneath his skin. She brushed her fingers against the wiry hair on his chest and sighed.
She had always liked sex. Aston had started out as a giving lover, introducing her to pleasure gently. But as their relationship grew more tumultuous, as the truth of his life, her life, became painfully clear, she had begun to see sex as a tool. To control him. To obtain her desire. To soothe his anger.
Bu
t this…with War. This was something else. This was soul-merging passion. This was pleasure only for pleasure’s sake. This was something powerful, stripped down to its elemental units. This was wonderful and terrifying all at once.
She looked up at his handsome face, relaxed after his pleasure. How she wished, in that moment, that he had been her first lover. But he hadn’t wanted her then. He had pushed her away, pushed her into the arms of a man who had both created and destroyed all her hopes.
She frowned as her reality began clear again. She wasn’t a carefree girl who could revel in this moment. She had a purpose for being here. She could never forget that.
“I want to talk about our plan,” she said.
War’s eyes fluttered shut a moment and his jaw set. He pulled from her arms, rolling off the bed to search out his discarded trousers.
“You are singular,” he said as he tugged them back on, signaling the end of their connection, the end of this moment of perfect, pure peace and pleasure.
She stared up at him. “I must be, mustn’t I?”
His gaze jerked to her and for a moment she saw a flash of understanding in his dark eyes. But he hardened himself to it and to her as he folded his arms over that magnificent chest once again.
“Fine, we will talk about the plan. But I warn you, you might not like it.”
Her heart skipped at those words. She had come to him for help and that was not easy for her. She knew how quickly, how easily that kind of need could be turned against her. Even War couldn’t be fully trusted. She had to remember that, even if he shook her world to its foundation when he touched her.
“Why?” she asked, forcing her tone to be steady when she felt anything but.
“Because I am in charge now, Claire. If you want my help, you are going to have to do exactly as I say.”
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