The Princess and the Peer (20 page)

Stepping nearer, she wound her arms around his waist and pressed herself against the long, sturdy length of his body. The masculine heat that radiated from him came as a delicious shock; it was almost like warming herself before a fire.

Truth be told, she felt a little as if she had stepped into a river of flame, her body burning with a desire she didn’t even attempt to suppress or deny. A tiny moan rose from her throat, her skin heating as the world around her began to melt.

Sliding her palms against the sleek silk along the back of his waistcoat, she fought for purchase. Desperate to anchor herself, she unthinkingly slipped her fingers into the narrow gap between his waistcoat and trousers, the lawn fabric of his shirt providing only a thin barrier between her flesh and his.

He arched as if her touch were electric and broke their kiss. Her gaze locked with his, air soughing in rapid puffs
between her lips. His own breathing seemed labored as well, his eyelids heavy, an expression she’d never seen before turning his face fierce and oddly dangerous.

Yet she wasn’t afraid. Quite the opposite, as she swayed toward him, bereft without his kiss. Unconsciously, she slid the tip of her tongue across her lower lip. A spark seemed to ignite in his gaze, his eyes darkening to the color of hot smoke.

Then he was kissing her again, groaning as he caught her hard in his arms and plastered her against his body so she barely knew where she began and he ended.

She clung, intoxicated by the heady delight of his brandy-flavored kisses. Where he led, she followed, down a path that was increasingly dark and sensual, their embrace slowing and deepening as the intensity of their ardor increased.

Shivering, she burrowed even closer and kissed him with everything her inexperience would allow. As she did, the sash of her dressing gown loosened, her robe slipping a few inches down one shoulder to reveal the white cotton nightgown underneath.

Leaving her mouth, Nick brushed a trail of kisses over her cheek and nose, chin and jaw, before roving lower along the length of her throat. He buried his face in the sensitive curve of her neck.

Her eyes fluttered wide at the gentle nip he placed there, then sank closed again as he opened his mouth over the spot and began drawing on her flesh in the most devastating of ways.

She moaned and trembled, an ache building low between her legs as if his mouth were directly connected to that second spot as well. Her knees shook, making her grateful she was cradled so securely inside his strong arms.

He shifted his hold and began stringing a fresh line of kisses along the base of her throat, moving slowly across to the other side. Pausing, he drew on her nape with the same rapturous purpose he’d used before. As he did, his hand slid beneath the edge of her open robe and found her breast, cupping its soft weight inside one wide palm.

Another quiet moan trilled from between her lips, her
pulse racing at a frantic pace as he began caressing her the way he had only a few hours ago at the fair. In ever widening circles, his thumb moved against her nipple, around and around and around until she thought she might go a little mad. And yet she wanted more—even if she didn’t quite understand exactly what “more” might entail.

Still intent on his ministrations, he gave the tip of her berry-hard nipple a quick, light pinch, then another, and a third, while his tongue swirled wickedly against her nape. She jolted and moaned as he bit her ever so gently, the flames inside her roaring even hotter than before.

Laving his tongue over the area, he moved on to a new location, pausing to gently suckle the skin he found along the lush curve at the top of her breast.

It’s as if he means to mark me,
she thought dazedly.
As if he is determined to ruin me for any man’s touch but his own, for now and always.

And in the next moment she knew that he had done exactly that, knew it as surely as she knew her own name.

She would
never
want any man but him.

She’d come here tonight already loving Nick. She would leave here forever and absolutely possessed—his for all the rest of her days.

A bittersweet sorrow flooded her heart at the realization, remembering what must come on the morrow. Ruthlessly, she pushed the thought aside, refusing to dwell on realities.

Fantasy was what she craved tonight.

Fantasy and rapture—a delight that would endure when she could no longer have the security and joy of being held in Nick’s arms.

Regardless of her determination to think of nothing but the pleasure of the moment, she must have betrayed herself in some slight way, since abruptly Nick raised his head and stared into her eyes.

His face was flushed, a slight crest of color riding the curve of his cheekbones. Breath came faster than usual from his lungs, his eyes heavy with bold, unmistakable desire.

“Sweet Jesu. You make me lose my wits, Emma,” he said. “I can’t think when I’m around you. If I had any sense, I would stop this insanity and send you straight back to your bed.”

And yet he didn’t stop touching her, the hand that cupped her breast continuing to caress her pliant flesh as if he couldn’t find the will to take it away. He kissed her again too, a drowsy dusting of his lips against her forehead and temples and cheeks before seeking her mouth for another long, slow, soul-stealing kiss.

After a while, he shuddered visibly and pulled away again, somehow finding the strength to lift his hand from her flesh this time—though admittedly by no more than an inch.

“Tell me to stop, Emma,” he urged on a husky murmur that was half plea, half prayer. “All you have to do is tell me and I’ll let you go.”

She stared into his eyes, knowing she could end this, that she
should
end it—and would, if she had any sense. But when she was around him, all rational thought seemed to disappear, along with every ounce of caution she possessed. She wanted him tonight.

Madly.

Desperately.

To the point of insanity so that she no longer cared about anything but being with him. She wanted him in all ways. Wanted him to be her first lover, even if she ought to be preserving her innocence for her future husband.

For in her heart, Nick was her husband. He was the man she would choose to marry if she could, the man with whom she wanted to spend her life. If her body was all she was free to give him, then she would do so with open eyes and a glad heart in spite of any consequences that might come after. Right now, all she cared about was having this one chance—her only chance—to be with him in the most intimate way possible. She’d dared to live as she wished when she’d run away from the estate, and tonight she was going to live as she wished one last glorious time.

Reaching up, she pressed his hand over her breast again
and held it there. “I can’t,” she whispered. “Please, Nick, please don’t stop. Don’t ever let me go.”

A full-body shiver went through him. Then, as if he’d fought his last, best battle, something seemed to break inside him, the final chains of his willpower snapping free. Pulling her forcefully against him again, he crushed her lips to his for a series of fervid, open-mouthed kisses that sent her reeling.

The room spun all over again as he scooped her off her feet and carried her swiftly across to the sofa, shucking off her robe before laying her down against the cushions.

Yanking open the silver buttons on his waistcoat, apparently uncaring when one popped loose and rolled across the floor, he shrugged out of the garment. He pulled his shirt over his head next, then sent both pieces of clothing flying.

She couldn’t look away, bewitched by his sinuous masculine grace. She’d viewed Lord Elgin’s collection of Grecian marbles, but Nick put them all to shame.

He was, in a word, magnificent.

His arms were long and roped with sleek, heavy muscle, his chest broad and roughened with the same short, curled dark hair she’d glimpsed earlier. Letting her eyes drink him in, she took note of the flat plane of his stomach and a second, much thinner, line of hair that disappeared in the most intriguing of ways beneath the waistband of his trousers.

As for the large, unmistakable bulge inside those trousers… She gulped and looked away. Heat burst to life in her cheeks in a shade that must surely have been as red as the ripest apple ever to be plucked off a tree.

But Nick made no comment as he toed off his shoes and lowered himself onto the sofa beside her.

Any momentary qualms vanished as he pulled her against him, her pulse racing furiously as his fingers reached for the row of buttons on the front of her nightgown.

He kissed her, his mouth moving in an unhurried slide over hers. It was as if, now that he’d made up his mind to make love to her, he meant to take his time and do it thoroughly.

While his fingers worked with methodical purpose over the buttons, his lips played on hers, the freeing of each new button punctuated by ever more intense and passionate kisses.

She was literally gasping for air by the time he reached the last one. Once he slipped it loose, he lifted his head, then used one large warm hand to brush back both sides of the cloth to reveal her trembling flesh beneath.

For a long moment he stared, his expression absolutely inscrutable. She wondered what he was thinking, the tight, aching peaks of her breasts drawing even tighter beneath his inquiring gaze.

Instinctively, she began to raise a hand to cover herself when he stopped her, his fingers wrapping lightly around her arm to hold her still. Bending low, he kissed her, his lips sweeping over the quivering curve of her collarbone, then down to graze first one breast then the other. Without pausing, he continued, drawing a stunned, ragged moan from her throat as he closed his mouth over one of her nipples.

She shook at the sweet suction of his caresses, yanking her arm from his hold so she could thread her fingers into the thick, dark silk of his hair and hold him closer. He smiled against her before flicking her with his tongue. Her spine arched, unwittingly giving him even more access to her needy flesh.

Renewed flames raked her body, burning in direct proportion to the intensity of his ardent attentions. Just when she thought she couldn’t stand another moment of his exquisite suckling kisses, he abandoned the first breast and moved on to pleasure the next.

Her head rolled against the cushion behind her, legs shifting with restless need.

“Shh,” he said in a soothing voice, his breath tingling against her damp skin. “Just relax. Trust me and let it happen.”

Let what happen?
she thought dreamily.

Was there more than this divine bliss?

More rapture than he’d given her already?

She could not imagine how that might be possible. And improbable as it might seem, if there
was
more, as he promised, how would she be able to endure it? His kisses and touches were close to torture now—exquisite torture, yes, but torture all the same.

She was about to tell him that perhaps she needed to slow things down a bit when he slid a wide palm along the bare skin of her leg. Ankle to calf, knee to thigh in a tantalizing glide of pure sensation, her nightgown bunching up atop his powerful arm as he went.

A fierce shiver chased over her skin, chills battling scorching heat at each new delight he provoked.

This is what he must mean,
she thought.

But seconds later she realized she knew nothing as his hand smoothed over the ultrasensitive curve of her inner thigh, his fingers reaching to part her where she’d never thought to be touched.

Her eyes flew wide.

“Dominic!” she cried as he slipped one long finger inside.

And then she couldn’t think at all, breath panting from her parted lips as he caressed her in slow, deep, penetrating strokes. But he wasn’t content with that alone as he bent his head over her breast again, timing the sublime suction of his kisses to the movements of his hand.

Her fingers dug into the one of the silk pillows that was crushed between her hip and the side of the couch. She took it in a death grip, squeezing tight as an aching, agonizing desire built within her.

Every touch of his mouth and hands increased her need until she thought she might expire. She knew she must have died in truth when he eased back, only to return with two fingers, filling her, then stretching her wide as he scissored them apart.

A keening wail burst from her mouth, silenced seconds later as he covered her lips to swallow the sound. She shook, awash in the most powerful rapture she could imagine.

Liebling,
she thought, crying the endearment in her head as she reverted in that moment to the language she had first been taught to speak.

She kissed him back with a wild reverence, soaring on a cloud of bliss. He stroked her hair, twining the long tresses over his wrist before gently arching her head back to nuzzle her neck where her pulse beat in a crazy tattoo.

A little laugh chimed from her lips—a giddy swell of happiness that refused to be muffled or restrained. Not that she was trying to restrain anything at the moment, too enthralled by his caresses to do more than respond.

Lifting his head, he met her gaze. “So you liked that, did you?” he asked with husky good humor.

Giggling, she nodded, drunk with delight.

“Good.” He sent her a thoroughly devilish smile. “Then I believe it deserves an encore.”

Before she even had time to consider that remark, his fingers began moving inside her again, his thumb doing something this time that must surely be illegal in certain parts of the world. Her hips arched instinctively to draw him deeper, her body growing increasingly hot and slick where his hand lay nestled between her patch of nether curls.

The reaction ought to have shamed her, she supposed, but she was beyond such concerns at the moment. Besides, Nick didn’t seem to mind that she was so wet, so why should she?

Thighs quivering, she let them loll wider, opening herself even more fully to his ministrations.

Suddenly, he caught her earlobe between his teeth, then released it to kiss her nape. “Touch me,” he said. “I want your hands on me.”