Tycoon

by Joanna Shupe

  Innocent. Young. Unmarried.

  Those three words stopped him cold. He had no right to do the things he’d been contemplating. She deserved a husband, not a scoundrel intent on removing her drawers.

  Gathering his wits, he started to withdraw, but Clara’s hand held fast. Her other hand fell on top, holding him still. “Don’t pull away,” she whispered.

  “This isn’t proper. I should be—”

  “Kissing me. You should be kissing me.”

  A dry chuckle escaped, though he found little humor in the situation. “No, I shouldn’t, Clara.”

  “It’s all right. Please.” Her hands slid up his arms, the bandages dragging over the fabric of his coat. She gripped his jaw and scooted closer. His heart began pounding in his chest, the steady beat echoing along the length of his erection as she leaned in. “I’ll show you how.”

  Show him how? “You’ll show me what, exactly?”

  “How to kiss. I’ve had practice, so I can help you.”

  Help him? He froze, which she must have taken for acceptance because she closed the short distance between them and, ever so gently, placed her lips on his. She sighed, breath fluttering over his skin, lids dipping shut as she slid her lips over his, fitting their mouths together.

  Mother of mercy, she was kissing him. Again.

  Heat swelled through him, the blood rushing through his veins, engorging his cock. Doubt fled. She wanted him to kiss her? Fine, he’d kiss her, but it wouldn’t be some tentative or fumbling attempt. No, he meant for her to remember this one for the rest of her ever-loving life.

  Wrapping his arms around her, he crushed her to his chest and kissed her hard.

  Chapter Six

  Oh, my, Clara thought as she melted into Ted’s chest. He certainly hadn’t required much prompting. And thank goodness, because this kiss was vastly different than their first. More confident, more assured. She could barely breathe, their mouths fused together tighter than a cork stopper in a perfume bottle. He devoured her.

  His hand cupped the back of her neck as his tongue slid past her lips, entered her mouth smoothly, as if it belonged there. She’d never kissed a man this way, with his tongue in her mouth, but the taste of him was intoxicating. The sinuous way he wrapped his tongue around hers caused tingles to erupt all over her body. Her breasts swelled behind her corset, the peaks achy and needy, and her toes curled.

  With a moan, she pressed into the wall of his chest, attempting to get closer. He groaned in response, a sensuous sound that filled her head and turned her dizzy. He clutched, grasped, fingers digging into her skin, and she realized hers were doing the same, pulling at him, nearly climbing atop him, in an effort to feel more. And she wanted more. Needed more. There was every chance she might die without discovering more.

  When his palm covered one of her breasts, she gasped as the delicious warmth soaked through her clothing.

  Almost as quickly, he withdrew, gentle hands set on her shoulders to push her away.

  With effort, she lifted her lids, blinking in confusion. Ted’s flushed face stared down at her, his hair now adorably messy from her fingers. Both of them were breathing hard, and he appeared how she felt: undone.

  “Wait, what . . .” That was all she could manage. For once, words failed her.

  He removed his hands from her shoulders, holding them up as if to prove he no longer touched her. “We should not be—” He shoved a hand through his hair, disheveling the brown strands further. “This is unseemly. I apologize. I should not be taking advantage of you like this.”

  Her heart swelled with tenderness, a fondness for this simple, decent, hardworking man. It’s more than fondness, silly. No, surely not. They’d only known one another for a short time. Love took months—years, even—to develop, like crafting the perfect scent. No one achieved success in two days, not for perfume and not for love.

  Regardless, she would not see him again after tomorrow morning. She couldn’t return to New York, at least not until the danger was over—and who knew how long that could take? The thought depressed her. She’d longed to meet a man who curled her toes . . . and she’d finally found him. Unfortunately, tonight was all they had, so Clara meant to enjoy every second.

  Not to mention, if the policeman on the train had his way, Clara’s future would be quite a short one. Today’s scare only emphasized how she should take time to appreciate every single experience life had to offer.

  Resolved, she lifted her chin. “You are not taking advantage of me if I participate willingly.”

  He started shaking his head before she had even finished speaking. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what happens . . . kissing leads to other things. Things you should only allow a husband to perform.”

  “Fornication, you mean.” He jerked, jaw dropping open, so she continued. “I grew up on a farm, Ted. I’m not unaware of what happens. I’ve never”—she waved her hand at the bed—“but I know the basics.”

  He recovered quickly, resuming his calm demeanor. “Then you know the basics can have consequences.”

  “Not always.”

  “This is crazy.” Ted rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “I cannot believe we are having this conversation.” He started to rise off the bed, so Clara put a hand out to stop him.

  “Don’t move,” she said and shifted toward him. He watched her warily, his chest heaving. She sensed the battle raging inside him at this moment. Perhaps if she pushed . . . “Please, don’t get up. Let me just show you a little bit more about kissing.”

  “I know what you’re doing.” His head dipped and soft lips trailed along her jaw, gooseflesh sweeping over her body. “I see straight through you,” he murmured into her ear.

  “Then you should know what I want. I am not a debutante, and I am not entirely innocent. But I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.” She slid her nose over his cheek, breathing him in, relishing the hint of whiskers on his skin. She felt his big body tremble. It gave her the courage to whisper, “You made my toes curl.”

  “My God, Clara.”

  His fingers shot through her hair to clasp her head at the same time his mouth slammed down on hers. This kiss was decidedly less gentle than the earlier one, and she loved it. Ted, so stoic and unflappable, turned intense and demanding, his lips pulling at hers fiercely, slanting again and again until she whimpered into his mouth.

  She arched toward him, every part of her straining, as the insistent drumming of her heartbeat echoed in her ears. His tongue flicked her lips then slid deep inside, taking command of her mouth with urgent strokes and wicked thrusts that made her boneless. It was all she could do to hold on to his shoulders to prevent herself from sagging down to the bed.

  She’d never dreamt . . .

  Never dreamt it could be like this, that another human being could turn her inside out this way. Could steal the breath from her lungs and the reason from her brain. Then his hand returned to her breast, his warm palm kneading the soft mound over her corset, and her back bowed, her body desperate for his touch.

  He broke off, breathing hard, and found her eyes. His irises were now a deep blue, bright with lust. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No, and if you do, I might throw you off this train.”

  His lips curved into a small smile. “Then let me pleasure you. I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

  Would he mount her? Confused but eager, she nodded. “You’ve been so kind and patient, and you’ve never lied to me. I trust you, Ted.”

  A flicker of something passed over his face but vanished quickly as he removed his coat and tossed it aside. “May I undress you?”

  Nerves collected in her throat, making it hard to swallow. Was she truly about to do this? “Yes, if I may undress you as well.”

  “We’ll get to that. Let’s start with you.”

  * * *

  Hands shaking, Ted slid his fingers to the neck of her blue shirtwaist and began unfastening the buttons. Had he lost his mind? Probably. Most de
finitely. Regardless, he planned to pleasure her while keeping his trousers on. Under no circumstances would he take her innocence.

  Glimpses of pale, creamy skin emerged as he opened the fabric at her throat. The tiny pearl buttons proved difficult but he was determined. If she wanted toe curling, then by God he would give her toe curling. As long as he remained in control, then she would remain chaste.

  An ivory corset cover peeked out, a pale pink corset underneath. The corset pushed up the delectable small mounds of her breasts, and he grew even harder, his erection pushing against his clothing. Mercy, she was lovely. He’d be lucky not to spend in his trousers before this was over.

  He pushed the shirtwaist off her shoulders and down her arms. A few small buttons and the corset cover lifted over her head. Unable to resist, his palms dragged over her ribs, over the heavy corset, feeling the shape of her, learning her. The backs of his knuckles swept the tops of her breasts, rising and falling with her swift breaths.

  “May I remove your skirts?” Never had one answer seemed so damned important. Please say yes.

  She bit her lip but relaxed onto the mattress, rolled over onto her stomach, and presented him with her back. The towel filled with ice fell to the floor, unnoticed, as he stared at her slim shoulders and trim waist.

  Dear God. Swallowing hard, his fingers went to work. Untying. Unbuttoning. Uncovering. The room fell quiet except for the sound of their breath and the whisper of cotton. The layers went quickly: the outer skirt, a cushion-style bustle, petticoat. All that remained was her corset, chemise, drawers, and stockings. He loosened the strings of her corset and said, “Roll over.”

  She obeyed, her eyes dark and focused on his face as he began working her corset open. The fastenings popped as he descended carefully. Slowly. He wanted her to anticipate his touch as much as he burned to caress her. Did she have any idea of the things he’d like to do to her?

  Doubtful. Farm girl or no, what she’d seen had to do with procreation—not pleasure. And Ted meant to show her everything to do with the latter.

  When the last fastening came free, he pushed apart the stiff garment and just stared at her. Small, high breasts with rosy nipples that had already puckered beneath her chemise, begging for his mouth. He could hardly wait to suck them, to see how sensitive they were, to learn the taste of her skin.

  He leisurely traced her collarbone with one finger, then down her breastbone between the valley of her still-clothed breasts. The urge to pounce, to take her hard and fast, screamed in his groin. He struggled to maintain control. “You are lovely. Like the most priceless piece of art I’ve ever seen.”

  “Then why have you barely touched me?”

  “I don’t want to scare you.”

  “You’re scaring me by not touching me. I’m worried you’ve changed your mind.”

  He felt his brows shoot up. “Oh, sweet Clara. Nothing could be further from the truth.” Closing the distance between them, he kissed her and let her taste all the desire and longing inside him. She met him equally, her tongue seeking, twining, her lips melded perfectly with his. One thing he knew for certain: this woman kissed considerably well.

  The gentle swell of her breast filled his palm, the hard nipple demanding his attention. He rolled it with his fingers, teased the taut bud, and she gasped into his mouth. The sound shot straight through him, tightening his balls.

  He should stop, leave the car, and let them both come to their senses. That she allowed this—wanted this, even—seemed much too precious a gift for the likes of him, a man she’d never see again. But he was not strong enough to resist, not when he’d imagined this a hundred times since they boarded the train together.

  He dipped his head and used the flat of his tongue on her nipple, licking through the fabric of her chemise, soaking it. Then he sucked the luscious peak into the heat of his mouth, relishing the feel of her. Clara squeaked, a high, breathy sound of approval that urged him to increase the pressure and apply a scrape of his teeth.

  “Oh, my heavens,” he heard her whisper just before he moved to shower the same attention on the other breast. She squirmed beneath him, her hips shifting, searching. The temptation to strip down and ease the craving roaring in his blood was almost more than he could bear.

  But he could not. He’d never forgive himself.

  With that thought, he slid his hand between her legs to cover her mound—only a thin layer of cotton separating them. The heat of her nearly singed his palm, the fabric between her legs damp from arousal. A shudder went through him.

  Trousers on, he reminded himself. Cock safely stowed.

  She did not freeze or try to get away; instead, she rocked into his palm to create friction. It was nothing short of astonishing. No fear. She was the bravest woman he’d ever met.

  His fingers dallied to find the slit in her drawers. Yes, there. Slick wetness met his fingertips and he grit his teeth, struggling to maintain control. Clara’s back arched, her lids falling shut. He rewarded her with a determined glide over the hard bud at the apex.

  She gasped, so he repeated the movement and watched her. Her red hair had spilled over the white linens, a halo of brilliance around a gorgeous face. He loved looking at her face. So expressive and lovely, it conveyed every thought she had—and what he read now was more.

  Unable to resist, he bent his head and resumed his attentions to her chemise-covered nipple. He did not need to strip her down to pleasure her. Indeed, he thought it prudent to keep her as clothed as possible. At least then he’d have a fighting chance of not taking her innocence.

  He continued to stroke her with his fingers, lave her with his tongue. Her hands latched on to his head and she dug her nails into his scalp. The cries falling from her lips grew in volume, her muscles stringing tight, and he increased his pace.

  “Oh, God. Please, Ted, please.” A litany of words continued, all of them expressing wonder and desperation, and then she broke as a climax rushed over her. He didn’t let up, drawing out her pleasure, the swollen nub tightening and quivering on his fingers.

  When she shivered, he withdrew and—unable to resist—brought his fingers to his mouth, sucked them inside. The sweet tang of her hit his tongue and he had to fight the need to crawl between her thighs and bury himself in her tight sheath. Holy hell, she tasted delicious.

  Small hands reached for his vest buttons. Panicked, he pulled away. “No, wait. We should stop before something happens that you’ll regret.”

  Clear green eyes met his. “You don’t know what I want, so how do you know what I will regret?”

  Because he knew more about sexual relations than she did. She would regret letting some stranger on a train be her first lover. Perhaps not today, but someday in the not too distant future. He was sure of it. Hell, she didn’t even know who he was—a novelty for him. How long had it been since a woman wanted Ted, instead of Theodore Harper?

  Still, he would do the honorable thing, even if it killed him.

  * * *

  Clara could see the denial in the tightening of Ted’s jaw and the crease in his brow. For her, stopping meant giving up. Giving up on passion, romance. Everything he’d made her feel.

  He’d curled her toes. Moreover, she’d seen stars. How could she walk away from that, pretend it never happened? More than anything, she wanted to give him pleasure. To affect him as he had affected her. She needed this to be equal, not some exercise he performed out of pity for her.

  She sat and rolled up onto her knees. As she moved closer, he held up his hands to stop her.

  “You’re right,” he told her. “I don’t know what you want. But you’ll regret being intimate with a man you just met.”

  “Why, because I’m some silly girl who can’t possibly know what she wants? I may be a shop girl,” she said, her hands now within reach of his vest buttons, “but I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”

  She slipped a button free.

  “I don’t think you’re silly,” he said quietly.<
br />
  “But you do think you know what’s better for me than I do.” Another button.

  “No, but this is hardly appropriate.”

  “Life is hardly appropriate.” She rapidly dealt with the remaining buttons and pushed the vest over his shoulders. “That is why we must grab moments of happiness when we can. For example, if that policeman were to catch up with me tomorrow, I might never have a chance—”

  “Do not even say it. I won’t allow that to happen.”

  While his protectiveness warmed her insides, what could a bank executive do against the New York City police? She smiled and slipped his suspenders down his arms. While he didn’t complain, he didn’t help, either.

  “Your concern for my well-being is quite sweet, Ted, but no one knows what the future may bring. I’d rather live for now.”

  Necktie removed, his shirt collar came off next. Then she started on his shirt buttons. His big hand covered hers.

  “Are you certain? Because once it’s done, there’s no going back.”

  She bit her lip but nodded. Her fingers went to the hem of her chemise and lifted it over her head. She heard him suck in a breath—and then he pounced.

  He claimed her mouth in a hot, blistering kiss. From there, remaining clothes were pushed aside until there was just warm, rough skin. He stretched her out beneath him on the bed and started kissing her again. His erection poked her thigh, and she squirmed against him, ready for something more.

  “Wrap your legs around my hips.”

  She eagerly complied and he reached between them to fit his shaft to her opening. Bracing himself on his arms, he eased in farther, his sharp breaths teasing the skin of her neck, and then he drove down with a thrust that pierced her straight through.

  The air left her lungs and she blinked. Dimly, she noticed as he threw his head back and let out a long groan. She focused on the base of his throat, where his pulse pounded just under the skin, instead of the intense fullness between her legs. It didn’t help.