Desire and Deception

by Nicole Jordan

  His hard fingers closed over her breast, relentlessly pressing and releasing the nipple beneath the satin. Lauren gritted her teeth as her flesh involuntarily contracted into a tight, aching bud. She was hardly aware of what Jason was saying. Duval? Felix had never done anything like this to her. And how did Jason even know about him anyway?"

  "No . . . you're mistaken. . . ." she gasped, fighting her body's traitorous response.

  Suddenly Jason was turning her and urging her backward. Caught off balance, Lauren clutched at his shoulders, having no choice but to move with him as he pushed her up against the desk.

  There was nowhere to run. The edge of the desk bit into her buttocks while Jason's granite-hard thighs held her prisoner, molding against her softness. Feeling herself falling, Lauren threw her hands out behind her and found herself half sitting, half lying on the desktop, with Jason's arms staked on either side of her shoulders, his hard body pressing her down, holding her immobile.

  "Perhaps," he rasped, "we should hold a contest. Who can satisfy you best? Who can make you moan the loudest?"

  She heard the rough catch in his voice, saw the hooded anguish in his eyes, but still she didn't understand. "Why are you doing this?" she whispered, unable to bear his angry contempt.

  "I told you why." His gaze dropped to her straining breasts. Very deliberately he ran a forefinger down the slender column of her throat to the bare white swells above her gown's low neckline. Lauren quivered, his touch feeling like a brand of fire against her skin. "Because I want you," Jason said, his low, sensuous tone stroking her. "Because I've wanted you every night for four years, every waking moment. And I intend to have you. I'll have you again and again, till you're so filled with me you can't even remember Duval's name."

  "Please . . ."

  "Please what?" his husky voice prodded her. "Please you? What do you like best, sweetheart? I expect I can be as inventive as Duval."

  Lauren knew then. With the instinctive confidence of a woman, she knew he was jealous. Fiercely jealous. The knowledge gave her a heady feeling of power that she had no time to analyze. Jason desired her, Lauren thought dazedly, looking up at that hard, virile face with its noble, sculpted planes. He desired her.

  Something of her wonder must have shown on her face, for his eyes shut momentarily and his jaw went rigid, as if he were bracing himself against pain. "Oh, God." It was as if the groan was dragged out of him.

  And when he opened his eyes, she could see in the brilliant blue depths of his gaze that his anger had turned to smoldering passion.

  Her lips parted in breathless anticipation as she waited helplessly for his next assault. She was startled when, with incredible gentleness, he tugged on the bodice of her gown, freeing her full breasts from their confining satin.

  His gaze fixed hungrily on the silken crests as he drew in a sharp breath. "Those magnificent breasts, just as beautiful as I remember them. I remembered doing this . . ." He cupped her breast in his palm, his tenderness infinitely arousing after the violence that had preceded it. "And this . . His hard thumb circled the sensitive tip, sending a stab of quivering, almost painful delight through her body. "And this . . ." He lowered his mouth to claim the lush flesh, his tongue flicking out to taste, to tantalize, to torment.

  Startled by the raw hunger that curled inside her, Lauren moaned, and with one hand clutched blindly at Jason's shoulder. Impossibly, his caresses became more gentle. His warm mouth pulled at the aching nipple, then pressed featherlight kisses on the tight bud, alternating with slow, sensuous licks of his rough, wet tongue, while his hand reached up to attend her other breast with a plucking motion of his fingers.

  Lauren shuddered at the fierce pleasure he was arousing in her, a sensation like liquid heat gathering between her thighs. Jason's response was a low, hungry growl deep in his throat.

  After a moment he lifted his head, letting his gaze rake Lauren's flushed face. "I want you, sweetheart," he whispered hoarsely. "I ache with wanting you."

  He bent again, his mouth trailing hot, nibbling kisses along her throat as he reached down to slowly raise Lauren's gown to her hips, baring the secrets of her femininity. His warm fingers spread over her silken thigh, skimming upward, caressing the shivering flesh. "Yes, I want you. I want you hot and lusting . . . for me . . . only for me."

  When he found his mark, the moist, yielding cleft, his sharp inhalation was audible. "I haven't even begun and already you're burning for me."

  Lauren closed her eyes as his fingers began to move, desire running like fire in her veins. "Please . . ." she whimpered, not even knowing what she was pleading for.

  "That's it," he urged, his slow, sensuous stroking driving her into a mindless frenzy. "Moan for me, sweetheart. Go wild for me."

  She arched wantonly, straining against his hand as she tried to ease the throbbing, pulsing ache between her thighs. Her flesh was burning. Her skin was on fire. Her nostrils were filled with Jason's heat, with the musky, sensual scent of him.

  She let her head fall back in surrender, her breath coming in soft pants as she gave herself over to the wild, heated dimness. Through a haze of desire, she could sense Jason watching her, could sense his hot gaze fixed on her face as he sent her flaring passion nearly out of control. Yet he seemed to know just when she could no longer stand his tender torment. His burning gaze remained on her face as he unbuttoned his breeches and freed his swollen, rigid hardness. He let his weight fall forward, pressing Lauren back, his aroused flesh burning her thigh, probing, seeking entrance.

  She could have stopped him. In that brief moment when their eyes clashed, she read a question in the blazing azure of his gaze. But she didn't want to stop him. That was what terrified her; this feeling of being swept out of control. It was as if she had been craving this for years, as if desire had been building inside her for four years, stoked by her dreams and her memories. Every dream, every fantasy, every feeling of suppressed desire had been leading up to this moment.

  She closed her eyes, reaching up to twine her fingers in his thick, sun-gilded hair. Jason instantly recognized her surrender. His hands slid under her hips as he lifted her, then pressed into her slowly, powerfully, entering her in continuing thrusts that filled her completely.

  He held himself still then, poised above her, sheathed within her, as he gazed down at her beautiful, flushed face. Lauren's eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted as her breath came in ragged gasps. Jason's doubts about her innocence, his concerns for her vulnerability, were forgotten. "Look at me, Lauren," he ordered raggedly. "Damn it, look at me and know who is loving you."

  She heard his voice through the flame-shot darkness, and her amber-flecked eyes flew open. She stared up at him, mesmerized by the intense, burning desire in his blue gaze. Slowly Jason began to move inside her, arousing her, making her body quiver in response. Her hips arched instinctively, her body welcoming his thrusts, his hard, pulsating fullness.

  "God, four years . . ." she heard him rasp, and she wound her long legs about his waist. Abruptly, his movements became more urgent. His arms closed fiercely around her waist, his taut body quivering with the effort of maintaining control as he groaned and buried his face and mouth in her shoulder.

  Lauren clung to him, her fingers digging into the corded muscles of his arms as he took her with savage intensity. She was filled with his incredible hardness, sobbing with the sweet, sweet pain of it. Waves of pleasure washed over her again and again, lifting her up with their ever-increasing swells as Jason possessed her. The waves grew to gigantic proportions. She was drowning, drowning in a stormy sea, pitched and tossed by churning waves.

  She sobbed, clutching him as his powerful body went rigid. He contracted, straining with hungry violence, and she plunged down, deep, deep, deep. . . . The sea erupted, sending violent surges crashing through her body as he poured himself into her.

  The devastating shocks pummeled Jason as well. Shaken by one last, brutal shudder, he collapsed upon Lauren, his face buried in the
damp hollows of her throat, his breathing harsh and ragged as the last vestiges of passion drained from his body.

  Lauren lay beneath him, unmoving, vaguely aware that it was over. Jason's hard, muscular length was sprawled heavily on her, his weight only partially supported by his arms. Her breasts rose and fell slowly as she inhaled the sensual, sweat- dampened scent of him. The ragged sound of his breathing was loud in her ear.

  Then in a low growl, so low that Lauren thought she might have imagined it, Jason swore.

  Chapter Eight

  "Bloody, bloody hell," Jason mumbled again under his breath.

  The insane jealousy that had kindled a blind rage in him was fading, leaving behind guilt and self-contempt. Again, he thought disgustedly. Again he had attacked the woman he had planned to make his wife. He couldn't remember when he'd last lost control with a woman, but in his desire to have Lauren, he hadn't even waited to shed his clothes. He had taken her like a trollop from the streets, pounding into her with a relentlessness brought on by four years of frustrated longing.

  And yet she had reached the pinnacle with him. She hadn't feigned that writhing response or those cries of passion. Had she learned in her trade that such ardor made a man feel his own power? How many men had she given herself to with such abandon?

  Not that those questions mattered now. His dream was a mere obsession, an aberration of the mind. He couldn't take a high-class Cyprian to wife, regardless of his personal feelings. He owed more than that to his name, to his breeding, and he had an obligation to the illustrious title he had inherited but never wanted.

  He would fulfill his promise to Burroughs, of course. She wouldn't be required to sell her body again for gold, for she would be rich enough to afford whatever she desired. And when he completed his business with her, after he handed over her fortune, he would sail for home and not look back—if he could.

  Jason lifted his head to search her face, his brows knitting with concern. "Are you all right?"

  Hearing the grimness in his husky voice, Lauren regarded him in confusion. All right? She was still dazed by the shattering experience of the last few moments, her body limp and exhausted. Her position was awkward and uncomfortable, to say the least, and she found it hard to breathe. Yet she felt warm and sated and more completely alive than ever before. She wanted to savor Jason's closeness, the heat and heaviness of his powerful body.

  When she nodded, Jason eased his weight from her and stood, adjusting his clothes. Shakily, Lauren raised herself up on her elbows, and was shocked when she looked down at herself. Her breasts were bared lewdly, her nipples glistening and swollen from Jason's attentions, while her skirts were bunched up around her waist and her pale thighs still parted in an erotic invitation. This couldn't be her. Not this wanton creature with the flushed skin and disheveled clothes. Feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment in the silence, Lauren pushed her gown down to cover her bare limbs and slid from the desk to her feet.

  She was straightening her bodice when Jason held out a linen handkerchief. "You look like a Haymarket doxy with that paint on your face," he said quietly. "Wipe it off. You need no artifices to enhance your beauty, and I need no reminder of your occupation."

  Lauren flinched before giving him a wary glance, and for a moment Jason thought he would have to force her compliance. But then she silently began to scrub away the traces of the cosmetics. Jason raked his fingers through his hair, wondering how he was going to repair the shambles he had made of this evening. Catching sight of the broken crystal on the desk, he retrieved another glass and poured himself a large measure of brandy, then sank heavily into one of the chairs.

  Lauren watched him, trying not to think of what had just happened between them, of how effortlessly Jason had brought her to that shattering, gasping release. It had shaken her that he should have such control over her. And his silence now made her feel like she had committed some dire offense, or more painfully, that he had made love to her and had found her wanting. As the dull ache between her thighs began to throb, she made a shaky attempt to gather her shredded pride about her. "Was I so very bad?"

  His blue eyes found hers, and she was surprised to find his gaze held uncertainty. "You know very well you weren't. But I didn't mean to take you so roughly. My only excuse is that it has been some time since I've been with a woman. Forgive me, please."

  Lauren smoothed the green satin of her skirt. "Well," she replied after a time, "if you are quite finished with me, perhaps now I may go. You can have no further need of me."

  Jason's mouth curved with self-mockery as his desire suddenly rekindled. "I wouldn't say that precisely, Miss Carlin."

  "I . . . I wish you wouldn't call me by that name."

  "Why not? You prefer to remain incognito? Don't you intend to claim the fortune you left behind in England?" When he saw the flicker of alarm in her eyes, Jason cocked his head to one side, contemplating her. "Have I stumbled onto a secret? You don't wish anyone to know you're an heiress?"

  Lauren only stared at him, wondering what he was driving at.

  "It seems I've discovered a point of leverage," he added when she remained silent. "But never fear, I'm prepared to bargain. Are you not curious to hear my . . . proposal?"

  Lauren found her voice. "I don't care for your bargains and conditions and proposals. They don't interest me."

  Jason leaned back in his chair, crossing his long legs at the ankles. "You were willing enough to bargain four years ago. And I was going to promise my silence in exchange for—" He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Ah, but you said you weren't interested."

  "In exchange for what?" she demanded with a frown.

  "I still want the night you promised me."

  His reply was low and soft, a velvet murmur that stroked her, but Lauren's eyes widened at his audacity. He was blackmailing her!

  Yet she couldn't dismiss his offer without careful consideration. In the first place, she still owed him money, and she didn't like being indebted to a man who could wield such power over her with merely the force of his personality. Moreover, he could expose her to Burroughs if he chose.

  "And then you will let me go and not say a word about knowing who I am?" she asked, realizing she couldn't risk refusing him.

  "If you truly wish it," Jason said softly.

  Lauren searched his face, trying to determine whether or not she could trust him. At last, she said in a voice that trembled slightly, "It seems again, you leave me no choice."

  The gentle look in his eyes faded. "No, sweetheart. You will always have a choice. But whether you're wise enough to make the right one remains to be seen."

  "You are very sure of yourself."

  "Sure of myself, yes," he said solemnly, "but not sure of you. The last time you drugged me and ran away. I can't help wondering what tricks you will try next. Even now, when I seem to hold all the trump cards, I'm not at all certain of winning."

  Lauren regarded him with puzzlement. "You speak in riddles. What trumps? What game are you playing?"

  Jason waved his hand in dismissal. "Nothing. Come, Lauren, I'm waiting for your answer. You are free to go. The choice is yours."

  Lauren's glance went to the door and then back to Jason. He was wrong, she thought as she took one hesitant step toward him. She had no choice, or at least no will to resist the force that seemed to draw her to him.

  He seemed to sense her capitulation, for his expression softened. "Come here," he ordered, the quiet timbre of his voice playing on her senses.

  Slowly she closed the distance between them, until she was near enough to touch him. Her pulse skittered wildly as Jason rose to his feet and stood towering above her.

  "Now, kiss me."

  It was his fascinating aura of power, Lauren decided as she obediently closed her eyes and tilted her head back to receive his kiss. That was why she felt so helpless and overwhelmed whenever she was so near him.

  "No, sweetheart, I expect you to do the honors. I don't want to be guilty again of forcin
g you."

  Lauren's lashes flew up as she looked at Jason questioningly. He was watching her intently, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Oh, those blue, blue eyes. Fathoms deep. A woman could drown in those blue depths. Taking a deep breath, Lauren moved closer and stood on tiptoe. Pursing her lips, she planted a brief kiss on his chiseled mouth, being careful not to touch any part of his large body.

  Jason gave her a wry smile, shaking his head. "Nor do I want the kind of salute reserved for cousins. You can kiss better than that. Put your arms around me and do it properly this time. And have pity on me, I beg. Make it last a while. I might not be the recipient of your favors again."

  Pity was not what Lauren was experiencing as she warily placed her hands on his shoulders. Confusion, breathlessness, desire, and a great deal of mistrust, yes. But she couldn't imagine anyone feeling pity for this man who seemed to be the very ideal of masculine beauty. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself against the startling physical attraction she felt for him and slowly encircled his neck with her arms.

  He refused to make it easier for her by lowering his head, so she was forced to move closer, pressing almost full against him. She felt herself suddenly quivering, but Jason stood very still, his hands at his sides, waiting. If it weren't for the gleam in his blue eyes and the rapid heartbeat that seemed to mingle with hers, Lauren might have imagined herself attempting to embrace a statue.

  Except that the lips that waited for her were infinitely warm and tender. She wasn't at all prepared for the melting rush of feeling she experienced with that kiss. It was gentle enough to draw the very soul from her body. And it had every nerve ending in her body clamoring for more.

  Her lips parted beneath his, hungering for the taste of him, and when he wouldn't give enough of himself, she slid her tongue into his mouth. Her boldness gained her the response she was seeking: Jason's breath quickened as his arms came around her.