Sex and the Single Earl (12 page)

For a moment more his grasp on her became almost painful, but then he pulled his mouth away and eased his embrace.

“Simon!” Even to her own ears, her protest sounded petulant.

“My God.” His mouth looked tight, as if he was in pain. “What are you doing to me?”

“Kissing you?” she ventured, not sure what she had done wrong. It had all felt so wonderful, and she was sure he thought so too. She tried to read his expression, wondering if she had misunderstood what he wanted.

He set her at arm’s length, although his hands rested on her shoulders.

“Did I do something wrong?” Sophie forced herself not to squirm under his now wary gaze. She was a woman grown, after all, and he was her fiancé—at least for the moment. But his watchful silence was beginning to annoy her.

“Simon, if you’re not going to kiss me, then tell me what’s bothering you. If I’m not doing it right I’d like to know.”

His laugh sounded guttural. “Believe me, you’re doing it exactly right. I desire you in every way a man desires a woman, but I cannot take advantage of you like this. It would be outside the bounds of all propriety.”

“But I want you to take advantage of me, really I do.” She blinked as the words escaped her mouth, appalled she was begging him to make love to her. But, after all, he had started it.

A grim smile touched the corners of his mouth. “You should be careful what you ask for. You just might get it.”

“And you shouldn’t start things you don’t intend to finish, Simon. It’s really quite rude.”

His smile grew into something genuine. “I thought you wanted me to be rude.”

“Not to me.” The delicious melting feeling between her legs had started to fade. She wriggled closer, inadvertently pressing her hips against the bulge in his trousers. That caused an interesting change to the lines of his countenance.

“Kiss me again, Simon,” she coaxed. “I do so love it when you kiss me.”

“Later.” His voice was so rough the melting feeling in her legs came rushing back. “We need to discuss what’s happening between us, and what it will mean to you.”

“I know exactly what’s happening. You’re making love to me.”

He surprised her with a rough bark of laughter. “Not yet, but I will be if we keep this up.”

She slid her arms around his neck, and stretched up on her tippy-toes to plant a kiss against the faint bristle of his chin. “Well, please get on with it and stop wasting time.”

He paused for several long moments, staring at her through narrowed eyes. His handsome face grave, it seemed as if he struggled with some weighty decision.

“Are you sure, Sophie? Once we do this, you will be mine, irrevocably. I’ll never let you go.”

“Oh, yes, Simon. I’m very sure. Very sure, indeed.”

Actually, she wasn’t. Wasn’t sure she should marry him, given that he probably didn’t love her. But she was certain beyond all doubt that she wanted him to finish what he had started a few moments ago. It was foolish beyond all measuring, but for tonight, at least, she wanted to believe that Simon truly belonged to her. And it might be the only chance she ever got.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “All right, love. I’ll give you what you seem to want. This is against my better judgment, but perhaps it’s the wisest course of action, after all.”

Her mouth gaped open. Where did he find the nerve to lecture her at a moment like this? “Simon, why must you always be so difficult? I ask you to do one little thing, and you…”

He pressed his hand over her mouth. “Sophia, I’ve been waiting for this for quite some time. You’re going to be quiet now, and do as I say.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled it away. “Really? You’ve been waiting for this? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

He growled at her again, and then smothered her lips in a ferocious kiss. But even as Sophie melted into his arms, she had the definite impression that he intended to silence as well as seduce her.

His strategy was working.

Sophie inhaled, pulling in the scent of sandalwood and Simon as he worked to remove her gown. His deft fingers searched out ribbons, laces, and tapes, tugging and untying, even as he trailed damp kisses across her cheeks and down her throat. His touch seared her flesh, causing a shuddering heat to race down her belly and through her legs.

“Sophie.” His breath raised prickles on the sensitive skin beneath her ear. She forced herself to drag open heavy eyelids, though she didn’t remember closing them in the first place.

The drawing room refused to come into focus. Velvety shadows made the atmosphere seem murky, the furniture transformed into fantastic, oddly distorted shapes. She blinked into Simon’s face—mere inches from her own—his hard-edged features thrown into stark relief by the uneven light cast from the flames in the hearth.

Simon had removed her spectacles. When had that happened? She felt defenseless, more exposed without them on her face than she felt standing before him without her gown.

A teasing smile played around the corners of his mouth as his eyes lingered over her body. “You’ll be more comfortable if you lie on the settee.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Sophie winced at the squeak in her voice. She sounded like a demented squirrel.

Simon didn’t seem to notice. His eyes continued their downward drift to a point just at the top of her legs. She followed his gaze, finally registering the fact that she now wore only her chemise. The flickering glow of the fire reduced the linen to transparency. She gulped, her throat gone suddenly dry, as Simon’s fingers brushed over her chest and stomach, skimming down to the dusky triangle of hair visible through the delicate fabric.

“You’re so pretty.” His voice had dropped to a deep rasp. And surely the brimstone in those dark eyes would burn a hole in her chemise at any moment.

Her legs trembled and refused to hold her up any longer, so she collapsed slowly onto the overstuffed cushions of the settee. Even as she nestled back into the silky fabric, she couldn’t help devouring Simon with a greedy gaze. She took in the flame-gilded outline of his lean hips, his broad chest, and his massive shoulders. He exuded a formidable masculinity as he shrugged out of his formfitting tailcoat, which he then tossed onto a wingback chair. Sitting down beside her, he went to work on the buttons of his waistcoat.

“Sophie?” His gravelly voice held a curious note of hesitancy.

“Yes?” She couldn’t resist reaching over to stroke his sinewy forearm. Heat seeped through his finely woven shirt, the muscles beneath the fabric as hard as a blade tempered in the flames of a forge.

“How much do you know about, ah, marital relations?”

She snatched her hand back. “Simon! What a question to ask at a time like this.”

A laugh that sounded more like a groan escaped from his lips. “It seems like the perfect time to ask. I don’t want to frighten you, Puck, or rush you into anything. You’re such an innocent thing.”

Sophie edged toward the other end of the settee, suddenly very conscious of the puckered tips of her breasts, clearly visible under her filmy chemise. She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. Why did he always have to destroy every romantic moment that occurred between them—especially when they were as rare as hen’s teeth?

“I’m not that innocent. I did grow up in the country, after all. I spent just as much time around horses and other breeding animals as you did. It doesn’t really seem all that complicated.”

He shook his head in silent reprimand, even as his hands curled around her wrists to coax her arms away from her chest. One index finger traced the soft swell of her breast until it stroked across her veiled nipple. A piercing ache shot from the tip of his finger to the dark cove between her legs.

“You’re talking about mechanics, nothing more.” The delicious rumble of his voice penetrated every part of her body. “What do you actually know about lovemaking between a man and a woman? Do you have any idea of what I intend to do to your sweet body? Trust me, Sophie, I can make you lose your mind with pleasure.”

His daring words set all her nerve endings aflame. His big hand closed around her breast, stroking and kneading the compliant flesh until the nipple pearled against his palm.

“I…I know that Robert and Annabel always seem to be happy first thing in the morning.” The more he stroked, the more her eyelids drooped.

“Would you like to feel that way, my love?” His hands were on both breasts now, rolling beaded nipples between his fingers until they were throbbing points of exquisite sensitivity.

Sophie could only moan in reply. His hands moved over her body, silently urging that she lift her hips as he pulled the chemise over her head in a rustling slide of cool linen.

“Open your eyes again, sweetheart.”

She slowly obeyed him, although it took a few moments for her passion-dazed vision to focus on his face. His angled cheekbones were flushed, and his mouth had narrowed into a thin but beautifully carved line.

She shivered, suddenly aware that Simon had withdrawn his warm hands from her body to clench them in tight fists against his powerful thighs. His thick hair was disheveled, as if he had run his fingers through it, and his eyes gleamed with an intoxicating combination of laughter and desire.

That look made her sigh with pleasure, and she lifted a hand to caress the edges of his enticing mouth. He caught it, pressing his lips against her palm. His breath scorched the sensitive flesh. She could feel her nipples contract even more, though he only touched her hand.

“God, you’re beautiful, Sophie. Like sugar and cream. I never would have believed what you were hiding under all those prim little gowns.”

His greedy eyes consumed her. She blushed from head to toe with the realization that she sat before him completely naked, while he had only removed his coat and cravat. Her senses were jolted into a painful state of awareness—awareness of her own vulnerability and his dominating sensuality as he loomed over her.

But she didn’t fear him, or have any desire to cover herself. Instead, her heart pounded as his eyes raked over her body grown rosy and damp with excitement. She relished his hot gaze and the way his other hand twitched against his leg, as if he could barely keep it from her body.

The situation was depraved, of course, and not something she could ever—not even in her wildest dreams—have imagined. For just tonight, though, she wasn’t plain old Sophie Stanton, but a bewitching and seductive woman who would claim whatever she wanted.

And what she wanted was Simon.

She felt a dreamy smile touch her lips as she watched him, entranced by the dark flush on his cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of his breathing. His eyes narrowed on her breasts, and his look became hard and possessive.

“Touch me, Sophie,” he rasped.

She blinked at the unexpected command. “Where?”

“Anywhere. Just touch me.”

She reached trembling fingers to his chest, parting the top of his shirt before beginning to fumble with the laces. Under her hand beat the hard rhythm of his heart.

She obviously took too long for his liking. With an impatient hiss of breath, Simon brushed her fingers away and yanked the garment over his head.

Sophie swallowed a choking breath at the sight of his naked chest and shoulders, corded with muscle and bronzed to a golden sheen by fire and lamplight. She shyly traced one hand over his ribs. It was like touching the sleek sides of a blooded stallion, all hard flesh and grace. Her fingers delved into the fine pelt of dark hair that covered his chest and flat stomach, and arrowed down under his waistband.

He was magnificent. A champion, and so much more powerful than she. But despite all that power, that overwhelming masculinity, his skin twitched and his muscles jumped wherever her fingers explored him.

“Enough,” he groaned. He eased her onto the plump cushions, wedging her against the back of the settee as he came down beside her. The cool silk upholstery slid against her skin, contrasting with the heat that poured from his torso. A spicy masculine scent enveloped her. For a dizzying moment it reminded her of cool autumn nights, and the rustling secrets of an ancient forest.

But those images fled her mind as his lips covered hers and only sensation remained. His teeth nipped at the edges of her mouth. Then he stroked deep, his hot tongue claiming her so sweetly that the flesh between her thighs grew soft and damp. While his tongue explored, his hand drifted down her neck to cup her right breast between long fingers.

Those knowing fingers tugged on her nipple, pulling it into a throbbing bud. Sophie broke away from his mouth on a gasp, arching her spine in surprise. The cushioned back of the settee pushed her against him as she involuntarily pressed the aching peaks of her breasts into the hair covering his chest.

“Do you like that, little one?” His midnight eyes narrowed with predatory intensity.

“Yes,” she managed to squeak, although a tiny, rational part of her mind realized the question was likely rhetorical.

A husky laugh was her only answer.

A moment later he moved down her body and fastened the wet slide of his mouth on her nipple. Electric tingles streaked across her skin. She wriggled beneath him, struggling to relieve a bewildering sensation of emptiness deep within.

She ached for him, and she sensed that Simon knew how much control he had over her body. As she whimpered in his arms, he played at her breasts. Sucking, stroking, tugging on the distended little nubs of flesh until she felt frantic with the waves of pleasure that seemed to ripple out from her very core.

Suddenly he released her. The coolness of the air on her damp nipples made them contract with painful intensity. Simon loomed over her, his powerful figure a shadowy outline in the light cast by the fire.

“Why…why did you stop? Please don’t stop now.” She barely recognized the pleading husk of her own voice.

She saw the glint of his teeth as he smiled, but he remained silent. He gently pushed her down on the cushions before wrapping one arm around her shoulders, cuddling her against his chest, his touch both tender and full of strength. Never before had Sophie felt so protected and yet so impossibly vulnerable.

But then his leg intruded between her thighs, pushing into her soft, secret flesh. Contractions throbbed deep within her womb. She gasped, overwhelmed by the astonishing pleasure of fine cloth over muscle brushing against her cleft. But before she could even absorb how delicious it felt, Simon pulled his leg away and shifted onto his side. He reached down, cupping her mound in his hand, his fingers delving deep into her tangle of curls.

Sophie bit off a cry, shrinking back from the startling intimacy of his touch. His hand stilled. She stared into his eyes. They burned with a restless flame that even she—inexperienced as she was—recognized as an all-consuming hunger. She couldn’t utter a word.

Simon nuzzled her cheek with lips that seemed both ravenous and tender. “Gently, my sweet,” he murmured in a rough but somehow soothing voice. “I won’t hurt you, I promise. I could never hurt you, Sophie.”

“But, it does hurt, doesn’t it?” Now that the moment was upon her, she felt both her courage and her desire begin to wither.

His clever fingers moved again, stroking her soft folds. The gentle motion centered itself on the plump bud hidden deep within the cove of her thighs. As he continued to circle, the throbbing ache began to build once more, and she could feel honey-slick moisture dampening her skin and his hand. She buried her face, flushed with a bashful heat, into his shoulder.

“Yes, love, it will hurt a bit,” he whispered in her ear. “Well, actually, it might hurt quite a lot, but only for a moment. Then all will be pleasure, I promise you.”

His fingers slid over her flesh, dipping inside the entrance to her body before returning to tease the tender peak of her sex. She raised her hips in a silent plea, no longer caring about the pain that was to come. She became a creature of spiraling need—a need only Simon could gratify.

He caressed her, layering the pleasure until she floated in a midnight world of shadows and Simon. Everything ordinary faded away. Only he remained. His hands on her body, his mouth on hers, his possessive lovemaking that flung her to the edge of a precipice.

She knew any moment she would fall off that precipice and shatter into a thousand little pieces.

Sophie reached up and grabbed his head, yanking him into a hard kiss. An unbearable yearning tightened every muscle in her body as she devoured his sinful mouth with the pent-up force of all her years of loving him.

Simon’s hand left her body as he broke their kiss. He tugged at the fall of his trousers then moved on top of her, crushing her into the cushions. He scissored her thighs open, and she felt the broad head of his shaft nudging against the entrance to her body.

“Ready, sweetheart?” His voice held a rough tenderness.

To just say
yes
wasn’t enough. She answered by planting a passionate kiss on his lips as she clung to his neck. He flexed his hips, kissing her deeply as he penetrated her flesh. Pressure, then pain, began to build. Sophie dug her fingernails into his muscles, refusing to cry out at the slow but relentless invasion. He flexed once more. A searing pain lanced her deep inside.

But after only a few moments the burn of his penetration faded into insignificance, subsumed by the incredible feeling of his hard length inside her yielding, moisture-drenched sheath. She felt claimed by his masculinity—sublimely delicate and feminine in his powerful embrace.

It was wicked. It was frightening. It was the most exciting thing to ever happen to her.

She licked her parched lips and struggled to find her voice.

“I had no idea it would feel like this…that I would feel so much,” she breathed.

Simon stared down at her, looking momentarily stunned. “I should bloody well hope not,” he growled, before lowering his head to capture her mouth once more.