Twice the Temptation (38 page)

“M
y apologies, sir, but I didn’t know what else to do. The woman insisted she wait until you returned.”

Lucas shrugged out of his jacket and handed it and his hat to his valet. Edwards had been apologizing since the minute he’d returned to his townhouse. 

“No, you handled the matter exactly as you should,” Lucas said, dismissing the apology. “Where is she?” 

Edwards blinked, trepidation in his eyes. “In the drawing room, sir. I didn’t think—” 

“No, Edwards, that is fine. I will take things from here. You may retire now. I won’t need you for the rest of the evening.” 

His valet nodded and retreated down the hall. 

Lucas took a deep breath before he opened the door to the drawing room. 

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
S
IX
 

C
atherine tensed when she heard the low murmur of male voices in the hall. She exhaled deeply.

Lucas had finally returned.
 

It felt like an eternity elapsed between the time the door handle turned, the door opened and Lucas entered. The moment their eyes met, Catherine felt the connection, her belly doing a slow turn. 

How could only mere days have passed since she last saw him and she hadn’t prepared her senses for the impact of him, his presence. 

Dressed in somber taupe, he was anything but. Broad shoulders were encased by a wool jacket and taupe trousers skimmed the long, muscled length of his legs. His hair looked wind ruffled and as though he’d been running his hands through it. She wanted to run her hands through it herself. 

He didn’t remove his gaze from hers as he closed and locked the door. His carefully blank expression gave way to something primal. The transformation was so sudden and shocking, it literally stuttered her next breath in her throat. 

He started toward her, heat in his eyes. Silence filled the room with an unbearable tension. Slowly, he perused her up and down as if he could not get enough of her. Thank God, his attraction for her was still there, which meant there was still hope for them. 

“I hope my calling hasn’t inconvenienced you too much,” she said softly, feeling unsure of herself—of the situation. “What I need to say must be done in person, and I fear I couldn’t wait until the morning. I’d rather we sit, if you do not mind?” She cast a nervous glance at the brown leather sofa. 

He continued unabated toward her, his stride not slowing, his path not veering in the direction of the sitting area. And he never once spoke. 

Catherine’s nerves reached fever-pitch levels by the time he came within touching distance. “Would you like—” The rest of her question remained lodged in her mouth, of which his had taken complete and absolute possession. 

Flush against his hard chest, Catherine was suddenly locked in his arms, his hand clasping the back of her head and kissing her with such blatant hunger, thinking became impossible. All she could do was feel—the slippery slide of his tongue against her, her nipples hard and pointed against the solid wall of his chest. 

Pulling his mouth from hers with a throaty groan, he whispered, “This is what I’d rather.” With that he began to wreak havoc down the side of her neck. 

Catherine emitted a breathy moan as pleasure cut through her like a knife. Good God how she’d missed this, him, his mouth on her, his hands on her body. And it had been only five days since they’d last made love. 

Her movements were fervent and frantic as she ran her hands through his hair, nipping the lobe of his ear in a tender love kiss. One would think Lucas was being tortured by the groan she wrung from him. 

“Christ, I missed you,” he said on a labored breath. 

“I missed you
too
.” 

It had taken Esther five minutes to lace up her corset and help her into her dress. Lucas was able to loosen the bodice in less than one minute, his fingers deftly working from layer to layer until the air hit the aching tips of her breasts. 

No sooner had they found freedom that Lucas’s hand cupped them in his large hands and drew a nipple into his mouth. 

Catherine nearly slid to the floor, her knees unable to support her. But Lucas had her, gripping her tight about the waist as he bent her over his arm and feasted on her breast. He sucked the tip deep, swiping it repeatedly with his tongue. 

At her center where pleasure and relief beckoned, a hot rush of moisture dampened her undergarments. Before rational thought abandoned her completely, she remembered where they were. God Lord, a servant could walk in any moment. 

“Lucas, w-we can’t here,” she gasped, valiantly fighting against the inexorable pull of desire and lust. 

“The door is locked and the servants have retired for the evening,” he said around her nipple, sending another current of pleasure to her sex. Her mind gave up the fight, permitting her body to surrender to sensation. 

Lucas picking her up and laying her down on the sofa seemed to occur as if Catherine were in a dream, but his mouth peppering a trail of kisses from one breast to the other told her how real it was. 

“I’ve been thinking of nothing else these last four days,” he muttered, his voice dark, almost angry now. As if he resented the time they were apart. Sucking the pink ruched bud into his mouth, he resumed the task of divesting her of her undergarments. 

Desperate to touch his bare skin, Catherine tackled the buttons on his shirt but was forced to stop frequently when pleasure became too much for her. With only half the job done, she had to abandon it completely when his hands easily parted her thighs—now unhindered by cotton, lace and silk—and found her center wet and throbbing. 

Oh dear God.
 

Catherine’s hips jerked high as pleasure slammed into her with such force, it left her helpless, incoherent, reeling. Panting, she tried to catch her breath only to relinquish it when he slid two fingers into her tight sheath, his thumb playing with the nub of her sex. 

“Have you been kissed here?” he asked, his voice a dark purr promising untold bliss. 

Catherine gasped in alarm, torn between repugnance and desire.
Kissed her there?
Certainly not. Did men do that? And which depraved women permitted such a thing?  

His gaze flicked from between her legs to her face. She shook her head wildly, sending hairpins flying and golden curls swirling about her shoulders. 

A most wicked smile slowly crept across his face. He gathered her petticoats and skirts, fisted them in his hands, and pushed them up until the cotton and satin material cleared the gentle flare of her hips. Catherine watched wide-eyed, trying desperately to raise herself into a sitting position as he pushed her legs apart. She then watched helplessly as he kissed her
there
. 

Catherine instantly collapsed onto her back, her chest heaving. His mouth parted and his tongue began to work her flesh. Bliss nearly crippled her, coming in unrelenting torrents of sheer rapture. He pleasured her without mercy or care for her sensibilities. 

She didn’t find her peak, it found her, sending her hurtling, twisting, and heaving into the orgasmic stars. His mouth, his tongue continued to play with her, more soothing now as if he understood what she needed to make the descent with her body and mind intact. 

It wasn’t until she drew a deep shuddering breath that she became aware of just how she looked, spread out on the sofa, the front of her skirt hiked up, the top of her dress bunched around her waist, her breasts bared and rosy where his bristled jaw had scraped it. She looked every inch the wanton, but this time it didn’t embarrass her. 

Eyes heavy with desire, she stared up at Lucas. His jaw was tight and his nostril flared as his eyes devoured her. Dropping her gaze to the distension of his erection in the front of his trousers, she reached out to touch him there, shaping his hard length in her hand. She loved the feel of him. 

He made a growling noise in the back of his throat, pushing himself into her hands. This is what she wanted, this—she gave a squeeze that elicited a tortured groan—inside her. She stared directly into his eyes and pushed herself up on her elbows. “Stand,” she said in a voice that was not her own. It belonged to a woman whose sexual needs had taken control of her thoughts and actions. 

I
f Lucas had ever heard a woman drunk with desire and the power she knew she wielded over a man, this was it.

But he didn’t think about disobeying her and came to his feet. His legs nearly gave away from beneath him and his cock was so damn hard, it was a physical pain. If he didn’t get inside her, he may just go insane—that is if he wasn’t already. 

Sitting up, Catherine tackled the buttons on his trousers, but the feel of her fingers against his cock made it clear he’d have to do it himself. He simply didn’t think he’d be able to last. 

“But I want to,” she protested when he brushed her hands aside. 

“Believe me,” he said, his voice hoarse, “it’s better this way. You just need to lie back, keep your legs spread just the way they are. I’ll try to make it good for you,” he said, hoping he could last that long. 

Desire flared hot in Catherine’s eyes when he pushed his trousers and undergarment down to his upper thighs, springing his erection. 

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and he was on her, his appetite for her at that moment, bigger than he could have ever imagined. He wanted to arouse her again, give her another orgasm, but his need was too great. 

Placing his knee between her legs, he slid his hands under her buttocks. The sight of her, pink and soft, wet and glistening from her recent pleasure, sent him over the edge. 

He grasped his cock in his hand and guided it to her entrance. He ran the head down the seam of her sex, teasing her, torturing himself more than a little. She let out a whimper as her hands clutched at his shoulders trying to pull him down on top of her. Her hands trailed down his sides until she reached his hips and then she tried to force him into her. 

Lucas let out a pained laugh, tearing his gaze from the erotic sight of his cock sweeping up and down her moist center, he stared into her passion-drugged eyes and thrust. He slid smoothly in to the hilt and all he felt was tightness and excruciating pleasure. 

“Jesus Christ, Catherine,” he groaned, teeth gritted. 

His impending orgasm couldn’t be stayed as long as he had hoped—long enough to bring her to pleasure. Levered above her, his arms taut and straight above her shoulders, he pulled out and pounded back into her. 

She let out a tiny shriek and her hands, having pushed under his shirt, contracted at his waist, sinking her fingernails into his flesh. 

He barely felt it but had he hurt her? “Are you alright?” he asked, praying to hell she was because he didn’t know if it was humanly possible for him to stop now. 

A mewling sound escaped her lips. “More. Faster.” 

She didn’t have to tell him twice. 

Lucas thrust into her again and again, the wet clasp of her body holding him tight. Pleasure skewered him in half before pulling him under. His orgasm seemed to go on forever, holding him tight in its clutches the same way her body did him. 

After he convulsed his way to completion, his body sated—for now—and weak like that of a broken man, he had to resist the urge the slump down on top of her as there was no room on the sofa to sprawl out beside her. 

Gently rubbing her belly, he pulled out of her. She gave a mournful whimper. Her eyes were mere slits and passion-drugged. If they had been somewhere else—his bed or hers preferably, any bed for that matter—there’d unquestionably be another round. 

“God, Catherine,” he whispered softly, lovingly. 

G
od how I love this man.

Sated, Catherine lay on her back, her hands slowly running up and down Lucas’s shirt-clad back as she tried to catch her breath. She could stay like this with him forever, minus the extraneous garments of course. But forever wasn’t possible and a couple minutes had to suffice.