Deceived (13 page)

How far would she go? How far would he?

“Why wouldn’t you ask his permission?” she asked, her voice shaking as he closed the door behind them and put them in utter, complete and highly inappropriate privacy.

“Because if he said no, I wouldn’t be able to do this.” He moved on her, cupping her face gently, tilting her into the proper position and dropping his mouth to hers.

She heard the hungry sound of desire that seemed to come from her very core as she lifted on her tiptoes and met his heated kisses.

“My God, I have thought of nothing but this,” he whispered as he broke their kiss and rested his forehead against hers.

“Nor have I. You must think so little of me for being a wanton.”

He pulled back. “Because you came here?”

She nodded. “I hoped I would see you, Evan. I hoped this would happen.”

He laughed. “Then why would I judge you? The moment I saw you standing with Vernon, my heart soared. And trust me, after the morning I’ve had, I needed that. Needed you. Need you now.”

“Then please don’t deny yourself or me,” she whispered.

He met her gaze, and she recognized the fire of his expression. He was going to give her such pleasure. And she hoped that this time, with the privacy of this place, she would be able to do a bit of the same for him.

He took both her hands and guided her back through the main room of the cottage and into the bedroom.

“I want to see you,” he whispered as he began to unfasten her dress. “May I?”

She blushed. “You may be disappointed.”

He frowned. “Impossible.”

She said nothing else as he slowly unbuttoned and unhooked her. When he slid his warm hands beneath the silky fabric of her dress, she hissed out pleasure, but the pleasure faded as he shoved the gown off her shoulders and left it in a heap at her feet.

She was only in her chemise now. And there was no hiding herself in just that thin scrap that clung in all the wrong places. He stared. He stared so long that she found herself lifting her hands.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He jerked his gaze from her body to her face. “What in the world are you apologizing for?”

She fought for words, but they were too painful, so she opened her arms and motioned to herself. “This.”

“This beautiful body that is made for me to worship it? No apologies necessary,” he whispered as he reached out to trace a finger along her collarbone.

She shivered at the touch. “I am not the way women are meant to be. I know it. The fashions of the day are for slender women. My body is not slender. I have curves and…and…”

“And you think this makes you not the way women are meant to be?” he asked, moving closer. Close enough that she could feel his heat.

She nodded, keeping her gaze away from his. The last thing she wanted to see was his agreement with her statement. Or worse, his disgust. But she felt his finger slide beneath her chin and he lifted her face.

“Right now I want you to listen to me. Don’t hear the voices of those who teased you, don’t hear your own voice that batters you, just listen to me,” he said softly. “When I look at you, I see perfection. Your curves are what make you lovely. You are soft and beautiful, warm and welcoming. And I want to do such wicked things to that gorgeous body.”

She stared at him. He looked so very sincere and his heated words curled into her body and soul, wrapping around the ugliness of the past and shielding her from it, if only for this moment. This moment she wanted to last forever.

“Show me,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He nodded as he pushed his hands under her chemise straps and stripped the last bit of fabric away. She shivered as the cool air in the still room hit her, shivered as his eyes moved over her. She was naked. In front of a man. In front of
this
man.

She examined his face for a flash of disgust, disappointment, but there was none there. His dark eyes only dilated with desire as he reached out to cup her naked breast.

She sucked in air at the shock of his touch. His fingers were so warm against her and her body clenched of its own accord as he let the pad of his thumb circle one distended nipple.

“Perfect,” he breathed, and heat flooded her cheeks at that simple declaration.

“I—” she began, then stopped herself.

His gaze eased up from her naked flesh to meet her eyes. “You?” he pressed. “Don’t hold back, Josie. If you want something, say it.”

She swallowed hard. “I want to see you.”

His eyebrows lifted at that request. “Naked?”

She nodded swiftly. “Yes.”

The corner of his mouth turned up, creating that blasted dimple in his cheek. The one she currently wanted to trace with her tongue.

“It’s a fair bargain,” he said, backing away from her to shrug out of his jacket.

She licked her lips as he tossed it aside and went to work on the knot of his cravat. He parted the top of his shirt and she clenched her fists at her sides. The triangle of smooth skin, a little too tan for a proper gentleman, made her ache between her legs. An ache that grew as he tugged buttons open and pulled the shirt free from his waistband. He pulled it away and tossed it aside tossed and she heard a little sound escape her lips.

“Was that a peep, Miss Westfall?” he teased as he opened her arms to let her see.

She nodded. “Very much a peep,” she admitted. “I just…I’ve imagined…and pictures…oh, and statues…but never…never this.”

He smiled at her stammered, broken words and moved closer. “Would you like to touch as well as look?”

“Yes,” came her strangled reply. She reached out her hand, watched it tremble before she laid a flat palm on the broad plane of his muscular chest.

His eyes fluttered shut and a curse escaped his lips as she let her palm glide down, over hard muscle, over warm skin. Urges washed over her. She wanted to flatten her breasts against him and rub like a cat, she wanted to trace all the ridges and valleys of his body with her tongue.

She wanted to do anything to get closer to him. Anything.

Her fingers reached his waistband and she glanced up at him. His eyes were still squeezed shut, his breath short as she stroked him. But she wanted more. With a shiver, she began to open the buttons of that closed the flap of his trousers.

His eyes flew open and he stared down at her. “What are you doing?”

She smiled. “Trying to see the rest, my lord.”

“Well, who am I to stop you?” he chuckled, tilting his hips to allow her better access. It took a moment, but she finally freed him and dropped the flap. When she did, she gasped out loud.

There it was, his member.

“Statues make this look much, much smaller,” she murmured.

Now his chuckle became a full laugh. He tilted his head back, exposing the corded tendons of his tanned throat, and his laughter filled the room, lessening her fear, making her smile even in this moment so charged with emotion and desire and anxiety.

He made it all so…
easy
.

“Yes, I fear the sculptors of the world really didn’t do us a service, did they?” he asked. “But I am real, not made of stone.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, staring at his member once more. It did seem very large. And it was hard, curling against his belly in a dominant display.

“Touch me and see,” he whispered, all the humor gone from his voice and his eyes.

She blinked as she stared at him, stared at
it
. “How?” she asked.

He smiled as he reached out to catch her hand. He lifted it to him and closed her fingers around his length. She jolted at he feel. Velvet over steel, warmth and strength combined.

“Oh,” she gasped, smoothing her fingers against him as she explored him.

“Yes,” he moaned, his tone broken. “
Oh
.”

“I’m not hurting you?” she asked, watching his face twist.

He shook his head. “On the contrary, your hands feel like heaven.”

“Yesterday, you said that you would stroke yourself to find relief,” she said, blushing once more at how frank her words were. She cupped him and began to slide over him gently. “Did you do so?”

“Jesus,” he breathed, his head dipping back over his shoulders and his breath shortening.

“Did you?” she repeated as she stroked a little faster.

“Did I?” he asked. Then he shook his head. “Oh, yes. Yes, I did. Last night.”

She shuddered at the thought of him doing what she was doing. “What did you think about?”

“About tasting you,” he grunted. “And about claiming you.”

Her knees shook. Claiming her. Taking her innocence. “That’s what I thought about last night too,” she admitted softly.

She stroked a few more times and he let out a heavy cry. Then his seed spurted from his body, covering her hand. She used the slickness to stroke a few more times before she released him. She stepped back, blinking at him.

“Was that right?” she asked.

He nodded. “God, yes.”

He bent and drew a handkerchief from his jacket pocked, then reached out to draw her close. Gently, he cleaned his essence from her fingers. She stared up at his face as he did it, marking every flutter of his lids, every movement of his lips.

He looked down at her upturned face with a smile, then lowered his lips to claim hers. She opened to him without hesitation, loving the slide of his tongue, the taste of his desire merging with her own. He let the handkerchief flutter away and wrapped both arms around her.

Now they were naked skin to naked skin, hardly an inch separating them, and she arched to get closer. He was so warm around her, she felt protected and cherished. And even stronger than those feelings was the need. A heartbeat of need in her veins, between her legs, transformed into the song of her soul.

“You are unexpected,” he said as he broke the kiss and moved her toward the bed. He lowered her to the coverlet and settled himself over her.

“In a bad way?” she asked, using a finger to smooth an errant lock of hair away from his forehead.

“Not at all. In fact, in such a good way that I think you deserve a reward.”

He leaned down and his mouth covered hers again. She sighed into him as she wrapped her arms around his neck and reveled in the wicked sensation of skin on skin. There was nothing better, really.

Nothing better until he slowly stroked his hand down her side, making her shiver and shake with pleasure. He shifted to move beside he and she groaned with the loss of his weight pressing her into the bed.

“Trust me,” he whispered. “It will be worth it.”

She blinked up at him, lost in his stare. He held her there, his captive, and returned his hands to their roaming. He dragged his fingertips to her breast and began to stroke them back and forth across the sensitive skin. She arched with a hiss of breath and he smiled.

“You are very responsive,” he murmured. “How responsive remains to be seen.”

He pressed his mouth to her neck and began to suck there, plucking her nipples in time to his kisses. Josie was lost. She knew it and she didn’t care. Nothing in the world mattered in that moment except the sensations rushing through her body.

At the lake the previous day, she had felt such pleasure, but what was building in her now felt even more powerful because her entire body was involved. Evan was seducing her from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes and she couldn’t help but arch beneath his hands and moan into the quiet.

He eased downward, kissing her shoulder, her collarbone, and finally his lips met his fingers. He sucked her nipple into the hot cavern of his mouth and sucked hard. Hard enough that her heels dug into the bed.

She opened her legs without hesitation, clenching against nothing as he lapped at her sensitive flesh. And then she felt his fingers at her core. She had been so distracted by his mouth she hadn’t even realized he had moved his hand. But there it was, his fingers gliding her folds open, stroking over her gently.

“In that book you talked about yesterday,” he murmured against her skin, pressing kisses between her breasts in a trail to the one he had left neglected. “Were there any drawings of a man touching a woman like this?”

Josie struggled for breath. He wanted her to remember details? She could scarcely recall her name.

“Yes,” she panted.

“A man with his fingers inside a woman?” he pressed even as he gently probed one fingertip inside her.

She gasped at the intrusion. “Yes, yes!”

“Mimicking a man’s cock taking her,” he continued.

She nodded. She was beginning to understand her wicked readings all the more now.

“This is what I would do with my cock,” he explained. “If I could have you.”

He pushed inside, gently stretching her. She gaped down at his cock, thinking about how it had looked hard. A finger was one thing, but
that
inside of her? It seemed impossible.

“And it would feel good,” he promised. “After the pain.” She looked at him, wide eyed, and he shook his head. “No pain today, sweet. I won’t break your hymen, so all there will be today is pleasure.”

She nodded, trusting him despite their past. Despite her doubts.

He started to stroke his fingers, and she forgot everything else. It was magic what he did, finding some hidden place inside her that bloomed beneath his attention, throbbing in time to his touch. And she realized, with a start, that what he was doing was very much like what she had done to him with her hand just a short time earlier. He was thrusting into her body just as she had thrust over his.

And it was divine. He returned his mouth to her nipples and the world went blurry as she focused only on the pleasure building between her legs, the electric pull of his lips and teeth. She was so close to that final release—
coming
, he had called it. She began to shake, her fingers digging at the bedclothes, her head turning to the side as she reached, hoped…

And then he pressed his thumb against her clitoris and the world blossomed with color and beauty. Her inner muscles spasmed and pleasure flowed through her, rocking her to her very center.

She cried out, clinging to the bed, clinging to him, knowing he was watching her through the crisis and not caring about the show she put on. All that mattered was this exquisite pleasure and the man who had brought it to her.