"You make me feel so
. . .
so helpless," she whispered. As beautiful as she was, as alluring as she was, she was an innocent. But her eyes . . . the bewildered hunger in her eyes penetrated his consciousness, sent a heat swirling through him, pushing down to the fire already flaming out of control in his groin.
Julian gritted his teeth and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to him in a fierce embrace. "I am helpless too, Claudia. I want to make love to you so badly I may very well expire with it," he murmured thickly, and buried his face in her neck, drawing the pearl dangling from her lobe into his mouth. It was impossible to let go of her, and damned near impossible to think of her innocence above his own raging need. He grazed his cheek against hers, fully intending to end this now, fully intending to wait until Claudia was ready—however long it took.
But as his hands slid to her shoulders and he began to lift his head, she turned her face into him, dragged her lips across his cheek, searching for his mouth. Surprised, he was motionless for a moment, long enough for Claudia to slip her tongue between his lips and kiss him with an ardor that matched his own and quickly driving him to the brink of madness. Without thinking, Julian lifted her into his arms and carried her into the adjoining bedroom.
He had no idea when or how her gown came off. He only knew that she was almost naked in his arms—he ripped the neckcloth from his neck, clawed at his shirt until it was gone as he gazed ravenously at her body. When he tugged gently at the drawstring of her petticoats, they fell away, pooling at her feet. She was resplendent, radiant. Julian slowly sank to his haunches, trailing his hands down her side, over her hips and thighs. Carefully, he lifted one foot, then the other, until she was free of the garment, and steadied her when she started to sway. She wore just a light silk chemise and a thin pair of drawers.
He looked up, caught her gaze as he slowly slid the drawers over the gentle flair of her hips. She steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder as he lifted her feet to free her of the fabric. His hands glided up her legs, around to her bottom, and he impulsively buried his face in the gentle swell of her belly, calling on everything he had to respect her innocence, to take his time to show her the many ways a man could love a woman. He had wanted her for so long, just like this, in his arms
. . .
it was torture not to take her with the full force of the fire coursing through him. But Julian forced himself to rise, sliding his hands over the thin silk chemise that barely covered her, up her rib cage, over her breasts, hardly touching her at all.
"You are beautiful," he murmured, and reached for the pins in her hair, releasing one thick tress at a time. A goddess, he thought, and kissed her lightly, toying with her lips as he reached for the thin straps of her chemise and pushed them off her shoulders.
The chemise slipped away, baring what were exquisite breasts. He lowered his head, flicked his tongue across one tip. Claudia swayed into him, bracing herself against his arms. His body, throbbing with painful anticipation, strained impatiently against his trousers. He cupped her breasts gingerly, almost reverently, felt them swell in his palms as Claudia drew another ragged breath. Her eyes were unfocused; a dark blush had flooded her cheeks. With the back of his hand, Julian brushed her brow. "Claudia," he whispered, and kissed her forehead before stepping away to sit on the edge of the bed.
As he feasted his gaze on her body, she shyly dropped her head, folded her arms across her bare stomach. He had thought her beautiful for years, but he had never understood how beautiful. Her body was not of this earth—legs long and shapely, hips flaring delicately from a slender waist. A dark patch of curls at the apex of her thighs, delectable breasts. He didn't deserve this. She wrapped her arms even tighter about her middle, unconsciously lifting her breasts.
"Come here, sweetheart," he said softly, and extended his hand. Claudia glanced at it, almost reluctantly put her hand in his. Julian pulled her into his lap, wrapped her in a warm embrace, gliding his lips across her neck, her cheeks and mouth, until she was responding to him, her hands seeking his chest and shoulders. He slowly leaned backward, taking her with him, then rolled her onto her back. "Don't think," he murmured. "Don't do anything but lie there and let me make love to you." And silencing any protest, he trailed a row of kisses from her lips, down her chin, to her breasts. As he laved one hard peak, Claudia squirmed beneath him; Julian slipped an arm beneath her, catching her to him. He took her fully into his mouth, nipping the rigid peak with his teeth, swirling his tongue around it. He massaged her other breast until the pliant flesh grew firm in his hand, then shifted to give it equal homage with his mouth. Above him, Claudia made a sound in her throat; a half moan, half cry. Julian tightened his grip on her, drew her farther into his mouth and mercilessly laved her while his hand floated down her belly and over her thighs.
She moaned then, a deep, aching moan, and Julian lifted his head to look at the face that had haunted him these last two years. One hand rested carelessly over her heart, the other was twined in the mess of dark hair above her head. Her eyes glittered in the near darkness— she said nothing, just gazed at him.
Merciful God, he would never survive this—he was perilously close to exploding as it was. A wave of unbearable lust suddenly moved him forward and he kissed her roughly, devouring her small sigh as his fingers skimmed her inner thighs, tangled in the dark curls between her legs. Claudia lurched at his touch; but Julian caught her shoulders and hugged her tightly to him as he began a deliberate exploration.
She began to writhe beneath him, arching into his hand, moaning against his neck. It was almost more than Julian could bear, but he kept his pace, exploring her with gentle insistence, probing deeper with his fingers, stretching her, preparing her for him, until he felt the thin membrane that sealed her chastity.
He withdrew, kissed her passionately before rolling onto his back to remove his trousers, and quickly came over her again, reveling in the feel of the silken skin of her belly against his erection. Claudia reacted as if she had been singed. Whimpering softly, she flinched where he touched her; her hands clenched fitfully in his hair. The sound of her breath, he noticed, was as deep and desperate as his own.
He wedged one knee between her thighs, grazing his erection over the soft patch of curls. A sharp gasp and her hand found his wrist and clung to it, her nails digging into his skin when he moved to her entrance and pushed gently. He gritted his teeth in a supreme act of self control. "Shh . .." he whispered, more to himself than to her, and pushed a little more, slipping into the tight, wet heat of her. He lowered his head, touched his forehead to hers, and pushed a little farther, clenching his jaw harder as her body tightly surrounded him, pulling him deeper into her and squeezing the passion from him. His hips pushed forward again, a little at a time, stretching her open, until he felt the barrier of her maidenhead.
He paused, lowered himself to her. She was panting now, her eyes wide with apprehension, a thin sheen of perspiration covering her skin. Julian licked the salty hollow of her neck. "Hold on to me, sweetheart," he murmured. Her arms obediently slid around his neck, and Julian lowered his head to kiss her, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth at the same moment he lifted his hips and drove past her barrier.
Her body seized tightly; she went rigid in his arms, but she made no sound. Julian panicked a little; he kissed her gently, tenderly, stroked her neck and shoulders until she at last released a long sigh. Slowly, her body began to relax, and very timidly, she began to respond to his kiss—-and Julian began to move. Gingerly at first, sliding gently in and out of her in long, patient strokes that almost killed him. Moaning softly, Claudia's knees came up around his waist, and Julian's desire began to boil in his groin.
He shifted his weight to better reach the core of her, and began to move with urgency, thrusting deep inside her, reaching for her womb, wanting her to feel the same, incredible passion that swirled through him. He wanted her to feel the same intensity of anticipation he felt now, his body dormant for so long, filled and straining to the point of bursting. She threw one arm above her head, grasping at pillows and bed hangings as her hips began to rise to meet him. Julian groaned deep—he was past the point of tender lovemaking, had fallen into a sea of desire that pulled him under with its current. The sea swept him forward then pulled him back, sweeping forward again, farther still, harder and deeper. She rose to meet each onslaught, swirling her hips in an ancient lover's dance. Julian was fast losing control as the desire spiraled tighter and tighter in him, and reaching between their joined bodies, he urgently stroked her as he plunged deeper into her warmth, oblivious to all else . . .
Until he heard the sound of her tears.
That sound splintered like glass into his consciousness at the moment she climaxed. But he was already lost. Her body was convulsing hard around him, gripping him tightly, and drawing his own, violent climax. He fairly exploded; the life drained from him like a break in a dam, rushing furiously into her depths.
And Julian felt the faint stirrings of love deep in his soul.
With a final thrust, he lowered himself to her, resting his forehead against her shoulder as he sought to drag air into his lungs. She shivered beneath him, the aftermath of her passion and her tears. He blindly felt her face, his fingers dragging across the path of wetness on her cheeks, and his heart wrenched painfully in his chest.
He had hurt her.
And she had destroyed him.
The wind had picked up, was howling outside and rattling the windowpanes. Claudia lay entwined in Julian's arms, entranced by the feel of the heavy breath of his sleep on her neck as she tried desperately to deny what had happened between them.
Oh, but it had happened . . . the most extraordinary experience of her life, the most intense, physical release, running the gamut from great pain to exquisite pleasure. He was right—it was a pleasure she had dared not dream, a freedom of spirit that she had not even thought possible for a woman. The intimacy of that act was extraordinary, the trust it demanded, the strength it required, together building to the most unbelievable experience a man and woman could share. Somehow, he had released her soul to the heavens.
But not without taking a little piece of her heart in exchange.
The experience had been so moving on so many dif-
ferent levels that she had not been able to stop the tears. Tears of joy, of frustration, of fear, of wonder—all of it, everything she had experienced in the last two weeks had finally culminated in one explosive moment, and in the course of it, she had lost a little of herself to him. So soon!
There had been no words between them when it was over, nothing but a gentle kiss to her teary eyes, and then he had slipped out of her, rolled over onto his back, and thrown one arm over his eyes as his fingers twined with hers. He had not touched her again, not until he was deep in the clutches of sleep and unconsciously gathered her close, making her feel safe and secure and wanted.
Claudia gingerly pushed his arm from her belly and inched her way to the edge of the bed. Wrapping the thin, cotton coverlet around her, she stood slowly, careful not to wake him. The only light came from the dying fire in the adjoining room, but it was enough for her to make out his naked form. His chest was broad and muscled, the expanse of it covered with a fine layer of down that tapered to a line running to the nest at his groin. She shivered, pulled the coverlet tightly about her, and gazed in wonder at his body. It fascinated her—she cocked her head to one side, considering the size and weight of his sex, wondering how he managed to walk about with that hanging between his legs. Or ride, for goodness sake! And how it had ever fit inside her . . .
Her face flamed; Julian suddenly rolled over in his sleep, onto his stomach. Claudia's eyes widened slightly at the sight of firm, muscular buttocks—the flame in her face was spreading rapidly down her neck, and she quickly turned away, fairly certain she should not be gaping at a man like that, even if he was asleep.
Even if he was her husband.
Oh, God.
She hurried into the outer room and sat heavily at the table, staring morosely at the uneaten food. The wine Julian had poured had been left untouched; she lifted the goblet to her lips and drank thirstily, hoping it would numb her. Her body still tingled, still ached from that incredible experience.
How could she have let it happen?
Of course she knew she would have to lie with him, but she had never thought she would like it so very much! How was it that he could do such incredible things to her body?
I
want to bury myself deep inside you, feel you wrap yourself around me. . . let me love you, Claudia. Every time she thought of it, she felt the queer tingle in the pit of her stomach. Trembling, she put the goblet down and buried her face in her hands. She possessed some sort of character defect, surely—what else could explain the physical desire—the lust—she felt for that Rake? What, must she recount his many misdeeds against her every time he so much as looked at her? This was a disaster! She would give him her heart, she knew she would, and he would crush it, toss it aside like so much rubbish in favor of a new attraction. He had done it before to her. He had done it to many other women.
Had Phillip?
She lifted her head, stared into the fire.
Had Phillip titillated women so easily? Would he have lifted her to the heavens as Julian had tonight? Would he have—
"Can't you sleep?"
With a startled gasp, Claudia looked over her shoulder. Leaning against the doorframe, Julian stood bare-chested, his trousers pulled up loosely around his hips, unbuttoned. She gripped the edge of the coverlet a little tighter. "Ah, no. Yes." She winced lightly. "I was hungry."
Julian smiled at that, padded across the carpet to her, and kissed the top of her head before sprawling onto a chair next to her. He reached out, laid his hand on her thigh—unconsciously, she thought—and made a face as he looked at the food. "Dear God, I hope you haven't been eating that."