He stilled her hand, his fingers toying with the mother-of-pearl button at her collar. “I intend to explore every inch of you. One button at a time.”
The sensuous promise in his voice intoxicated her. “How very wicked.”
He arched a brow. “Have you ever been ravished by a scoundrel, Miss Quinn?”
Lamplight danced over the strong planes of Matthew’s face and glinted golden highlights against his dark hair. Desire, fettered by the most fragile of tethers, gleamed in eyes darkened to ebony. Her mouth went dry.
She glided her fingertips over the strong angle of his jaw, the prickle of his beard tantalizing against the sensitive pads of flesh. Such a sweet madness they’d created. They weren’t meant to be together. But just as Icarus had been drawn to the sun, Jennie could not resist the temptation in Matthew’s gaze.
“I cannot say that I have. But I much prefer a scoundrel to a gentleman.”
His indrawn breath was harsh. Ragged. “You deserve better than a scoundrel can provide.”
“I want you.” She caught his hand and linked it with her own. “Only you.”
Chapter Twenty
Matthew didn’t know what he wanted to do more, kiss Jennie or feast on her unadorned beauty. He took one tiny pearl fastener between his fingers and freed it with a deft movement. And then another, and another, peeling her starched white blouse from her body. Hunger pulsed in his groin, threatening his fragile control. The desire to bury himself in her willing warmth was enough to drive a man utterly mad. Christ, she was luscious.
Firm, creamy flesh peeked out from a prim chemise trimmed with blue ribbons. His need simmering to a slow boil, he slowly unlaced the ties, spread the edges with his thumbs, and slipped the soft cotton over her body.
Beautiful didn’t begin to describe her.
She was perfect.
A dusky nipple pebbled beneath his fingertips. His palm cupped the lush softness of a rounded breast, and a whisper of a sigh escaped her rosy lips as her lids fluttered closed.
His conscience raged. Jennie deserved better than this.
Better than him.
But God’s teeth, how he wanted her. More than he’d ever wanted anything.
Not only for this night.
For a lifetime.
If he were noble, he’d drag her away to the Continent while he still had the chance and go back to the life he’d forged. His existence before Jennie had focused on survival, on his duty to bring Harwick to justice. There’d been no place for the simple pleasures most men enjoyed. Cherishing a woman, seeing her belly swell with his child—he’d given more credence to his chances of soaring past the moon. But now, with every breath, he wanted only her.
Not wanted.
Needed.
He craved the subtle scent of lavender perfuming her cleanly scrubbed skin, longed to feel the satin texture of her flesh against the rough grain of his fingertips, hungered to see her desire for him in those beautiful emerald eyes.
At this moment, Jennie was his. His to love. His to pleasure.
Her quiet moans, throaty and breathless, stirred his senses. Spurred by her whispered pleas, Matthew caught the bud of her breast between his lips and teased her to surrender. Trailing lower, he slid Jennie’s skirt over her softly curved hips, over the ruffled concoction she wore beneath the sensible wool. A low chuckle simmered deep in his throat.
“More clothing.” He brushed his lips over her sleek belly, smiling to himself as she sighed with pleasure. “Though undressing you may prove exhausting, never have I so relished such an arduous task.”
His thumbs hooked in the waist of her petticoat and slid the garment along her legs. With slow, deliberate movements, he caught one slender ankle in his hand and untied her high-topped leather shoe. He slipped it from her foot and repeated the process.
Lace-trimmed cotton concealed shapely limbs. He caught the ribbon closure between his thumb and forefinger. One slow tug revealed a nest of auburn curls.
“Treasure,” he whispered. Showing no mercy, he stripped the drawers from her body, leaving Jennie totally unveiled save for her silk stockings. A more erotic image he’d never imagined.
“Still more clothing.” He peeled the stockings from her legs and nipped the back of one shapely calf. He traced a finger over the curve of her hip, dipping his head to brush his lips against her belly. Blazing a trail of slow, soft caresses, he drank in the satin of her skin, the subtle fragrance of her luscious female body until he claimed her mouth.
“I want you so damned bad.” He swept a kiss over her lips, willing himself to be strong enough to let her go if she had any doubt. “But you must be certain.”
She framed his face in her hands. “Of course I’m sure. I want this.” A soft smile curved lips rosy from his kisses. “I want you.”
Her words set his heart to pounding. How he wanted her. But one night…one night would never sate his hunger. A lifetime of loving her sweet body might not suffice.
You will be mine, Jennie. Not just for this night.
He dared not speak the words, dared not shatter the fragile beauty of this moment. Her body was prepared to surrender to him.
Her heart was another matter.
And then, she kissed him.
His pulse thundering in his ears, his male instincts demanding satisfaction, his body throbbed with primal hunger. How could a simple kiss spark such maddening need? He’d taken many women to his bed.
But none of them had been Jennie.
She watched with expectant eyes. “Teach me how to please you.”
He drew her tight against him. “You please me every time you touch me.”
He kissed her then with the hunger of a starving man. When he released her, Jennie reclined against the pillow, eyes hazy with desire. A soft smile flickered over her lips as she trailed her fingertips in a leisurely path from his ribs to his collar.
“I want to see you.” Her voice was a throaty whisper against his ear.
“There’s nothing interesting.”
Jennie skimmed her fingers over the linen covering his skin. Making short work of opening his shirt, she bared his chest. Her smile deepened as her irises darkened to ivy. “Allow me to be the judge of that.”
The velvety pads of her fingertips grazed the plane of his belly, her touch tender and sweet and as wildly seductive as anything Salome might have devised. His cock surged against his trousers. It was a miracle he could string together coherent speech.
“I suspect you’ll be disappointed. A man’s body isn’t nearly as interesting as a woman’s,” Matthew said as he peeled off his shirt and carelessly pitched it on a chair.
If the look in Jennie’s eyes was any indication, he’d been quite mistaken about her interest in his form. An almost ridiculous sense of pleasure filled him. His hand moved to his trousers.
She stilled him. “Not yet.”
If she’d decided to torture him, she’d proven powerfully adept at the task. The urge to free his arousal and bury himself in her heat nearly overpowered him. Gripping the edge of the mattress, he battled the instinct to press her against the bed. His jaw clenched against the slow, delicious torment she’d chosen.
Eyes wide and trusting, Jennie explored his body with slow, deliberate interest. Her fingertips trailed over his chest, easing from his shoulder to his bandaged upper arm.
Her brows knitted into a frown. “Your wound—does it trouble you?”
“Other parts of my body are much more demanding at this moment.”
A flush spread over her cheekbones. “I never realized a man’s body could be so…hard. Your arms, your chest, even your belly.”
He caught her hand and kissed each finger in turn. “Do you intend to drive me completely mad?”
A cheeky smile curved her perfect mouth. “Utterly mad for me.”
She unfastened the top button on his trousers, then the next. He dug his fingers into the mattress and prayed for strength. The fabric splayed open, revealing the hard ridge beneath
his cotton drawers. Gracing him with a knowing smile, she resumed her sensual task. When she’d released the last of the fastenings, she tugged the trousers over his hips and waited as he kicked them to the floor.
Her fingers danced over his flesh, trailing a tantalizing path from the line of hair tapering from his belly to his groin. Hesitating, she seemed to deliberate her next movement, then grazed her fingers over the fabric that stood between her skin and his. Her hand curved around the bulge of his erect shaft.
He nearly bucked off the bed. She stroked his length, and he heard his breaths, ragged exhalations betraying the irresistible force of his hunger. His hands clenched against the merciless need.
The soft curve of her lips broadened into a smile of pure, feminine confidence. She’d enslaved him, and she knew it. If the gleam in her eyes was any indication, she delighted in her newfound power.
Trapped between purgatory and paradise, he clutched handfuls of the bedsheet. Even through the thin barrier of his drawers, her gentle touch propelled him to the edge of decadent madness.
Finally, he could endure no more. He captured her wrists. “You don’t know what you do to me. Or perhaps you do.” One swift movement rolled Jennie on her back. He gently tugged her hands over her head. “Enough of this, minx. You could drive a man out of his wits.”
“Ah, you’ve uncovered my true motives,” she said with a saucy nod.
“Sweet Jesus, I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you,” he growled against her throat. The words held undeniable truth. No woman had ever compared with Jennie. No pleasure equaled the sweetness of her soft kiss and the bliss of her unschooled touch.
Matthew wove his hands through her luxurious copper mane. Her tresses fanned over the pillow, and her complexion flushed to a dusky rose. She might have been an angel captured by the brush of an Italian master.
A woman like Jennie could never love a man like him. But she wanted him.
For the time being, that would have to be enough.
He stripped off his drawers. As he slid beside her, Jennie enfolded him in her arms.
“I want to know your body, how to please you,” she whispered.
“If you please me much more, I’ll lose my mind.” He buried his face against her throat and pressed a kiss to the rounded cleft at the base of her throat. “Tell me you need me.”
Tears glimmered in her eyes. Astonishment flooded over him.
“More than you know.” Her words seemed both a confession and a plea.
“I can’t deny a lady.” He slid his body over hers and kissed her, a soft, undemanding caress. “Damn it, Jennie. I need you more than the air I breathe.”
…
Matthew’s gaze stirred a honeyed warmth deep within Jennie’s core. She curved her arms over his back, savoring the play of muscle and skin and bone beneath her fingertips. The heat of flesh against flesh seared her as his erect shaft throbbed against the crux of her thighs. He was so warm. So strong. So very male.
Resting on his forearms, his brow creased with unspoken questions. One hand gently smoothed her hair. And then he kissed her, a tender brush of his lips over hers. Demanding nothing. Offering his body and soul.
“It’s not too late.” Raw with need, his voice was a low rasp. “If you’re frightened or you’ve changed your mind, we won’t do this.”
“Make love to me.” Her bold words sounded like a distant whisper to her ears.
His hands cinched lightly around her wrists. He drew her arms over her head. And then he claimed her mouth again, gentle and unhurried. He nudged his knee between her thighs with undemanding pressure.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
She gave her head a fervent little shake. “Do you want me?”
“Ah, Jennie, you know I do. More than I want air.”
Her legs parted in invitation, and she arched against him. A pure, instinctive hunger blended with her heart’s tender emotion, kindling a desperate desire. Oh, how she wanted him.
Breathe.
She drank in his essence, the heady musk of a male in his prime. The feel of his muscles, taut and strong beneath her touch. The texture of stubble against her skin. She craved all this, and more. She craved him.
She tilted her hips, urging his possession. Matthew groaned deep in his throat, and he studied her. His heart hammered against her chest. Concern flared in his eyes. He didn’t want to hurt her. But she hungered for him, without shame, without doubt.
“Please…Matthew…don’t hold back.”
His muscles tensed beneath her touch. He eased away from her, his arousal teasing her warmth. Yearning filled her, and once again, she murmured his name.
And then, he surged forward.
One powerful thrust filled her completely. Pain shattered the exquisite haze of desire. A cry tumbled from her lips before she could hold back the sound.
“I’m sorry, Jennie. The hurting won’t last long.” Matthew stroked her brow and dotted her cheeks with kisses. “I’ll bring you pleasure. I promise, darling.”
He began to move again. Claiming her with slow, rhythmic strokes. Flooding her senses. As the pain melted away, she coiled her arms around his back and kneaded the muscles that flexed beneath her touch. She raised her hips, glorious instinct pulling him deeper and deeper.
Pleasure swept her into a vortex of merciless need. His mouth covered hers. She clung to him with a desperation unlike any she’d ever felt. His name was on her lips. Again, and again.
Until the precise moment her world splintered.
Suddenly, there was only Matthew. She heard herself cry out, even as he bit off a moan. Her nails dug into his back, and she drank in every nuance of his desire, claiming him as surely as he’d claimed her.
“Oh God, Jennie.” His body quaked with the force of his own release.
When they could breathe again, he rolled onto his side and gathered her in his arms. Resting her head against his chest, she savored the strong, steady beat of his heart.
“Sweet, sweet Jennie.” He reclined against a pillow and closed his eyes. Soon, the tension ebbed from his muscles. Moonlight danced over his chiseled features. He looked younger in sleep. Amazing, given the turmoil he’d endured since he’d been a lad.
An unexpected twinge of sadness pierced her heart. He’d survived boyhood on the cold, unforgiving London streets, and yet, Matthew had retained such an exquisite capacity for tenderness. Quite remarkable, really.
His eyes flickered open. A smile quirked the corner of his mouth. Tracing a fingertip over his chin, she contemplated a faded mark below his bottom lip.
“How did you get this scar?”
His mouth curved into a grin. “In a bar fight when I was a very cocky, very foolish young man.”
“I assume you emerged victorious.”
“Not by a long shot. The other bloke was bigger. And meaner. I was all of twenty, a sharpshooter in Her Majesty’s army.”
“What on earth did you fight about?”
A low chuckle erupted deep in his throat. “Did we really need a reason?”
“I would think men would need some justification to beat each other senseless.”
“Back then, I was young and stupid. It didn’t take much to bait me.”
“And now?”
“Now, I don’t want to talk about my less-than-illustrious past.” He pulled her onto the long length of his body and kissed her thoroughly. “I don’t want to talk at all.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The morning sun streamed around the window shade. Jennie stirred, reluctantly opening her lids. Wrapping the bedsheet around her body, she scooted to the edge of the mattress.
Matthew stood before a small mirror over the washstand. Bared to the waist, a thick layer of shaving soap coating his jaw, he skimmed a razor over his face. Jennie’s gaze trailed his motions and wandered lower, surveying the solid plane of his chest. Dark curls tapered from his pectorals to his abdomen and narrowed to a line that disappeared beneath the waist of his trous
ers. A new and wanton hunger warmed her. She wanted to explore every inch of him, to drink in the infinite differences between their bodies, to feel his primal responses as she brought him pleasure.
There was nothing soft about this man. No, he was all hard, sleek muscle and sinew and bone, taut with restrained power. So much strength, yet he’d treated her with such tenderness. A strange ache coursed through her at the thought of his delicious touch. Such a study in contrasts, this man who’d held her in his arms through the night, seeming to protect her even in his sleep.
She’d always thought him handsome. Even in the stark images the Herald had plastered under damning headlines throughout his trial, the strong cut of his jaw and the intelligence and sense of haunting in those brown eyes had stirred something deep within her. But now, as the very recent memory of his touch and his kiss and his desire washed over her, she knew the man beneath the mask of indifference he wore as his own personal armor. The fragile shield she’d clutched around her heart shattered. For so long, she’d dismissed the notion of love, of longing for a man’s caress, of wanting a man more with every breath. Peculiar, how she now craved the very things she’d once disdained with the arrogance of a woman who’d never truly surrendered herself.
He turned to her. Suddenly conscious of the rebellious waves that framed her face in utter disarray, Jennie ran her fingers through her hair to tame the errant locks. A grin hitched the corners of his mouth.
“You’re beautiful, Jennie. Especially when you look like you’ve spent the night in my bed.”
She slanted him a glance beneath her lashes. “A gentleman would not remind me of that.”
“Need I inform you yet again that I am not a gentleman?”
“I continue to be hopeful.”
He wiped his face dry with a towel and came to her. “Regrets?” His voice had lost its arrogance.
“Of course not.”
He tipped up her chin, brushing his lips over hers. “Liar.”
Deepening the kiss, he drew her close. Not quite touching. But near enough to feel his heat. Passion infused the caress. Powerful. Deliciously wicked. But there was more. Unspoken emotion, soul-deep and heartfelt. Her knees quivered, weak with yearning.
When a Lady Deceives (Her Majesty’s Most Secret Service) Page 21