She started at the sudden rap on the door adjoining their rooms.
“Come in,” she called, the pulse at her neck beating a furious staccato as she watched Seth enter the room garbed only in his dressing robe.
“Seth,” she breathed, wondering if her thoughts had somehow conjured him, wondering if Providence had not sent him to her, presenting her with a chance to confess everything she knew about Julianne and Mr. Knightly.
His expression was stark, almost angry. His eyes gleamed liquid heat, dispelling the notion of confessing all in a cowardly flash. She shifted nervously on her feet.
“I need to speak to you,” he declared, stopping before her.
His gaze slid over her in a slow, body-heating appraisal. The faint scent of liquor wafted about him, mingling with the musky smell of him. Not unpleasant. Still, the smell of alcohol reminded her of her father and the subsequent foul mood it always foretold. The old instinct to run for cover reared its head.
“You’re drunk,” she announced, nostrils quivering as she edged back a few steps.
“Bloody right I am,” he rasped, stalking forward another step. “You, my dear, would drive any man to drink.”
She stiffened. “I’ve done nothing—”
“You exist,” he declared, the heat in his eyes making her heart jump against her chest.
“I—I don’t understand,” she stammered.
Something wild and dangerous glittered in his eyes.
She stumbled back until she bumped the bed and could go no farther. Lifting her chin, she propped her hands on her h*ps and inhaled, trying to appear taller, more confident than she felt in the face of his strange mood.
“You merely walk into the room and I’m undone.” His words stroked some place deep inside her, made her hot and cold and quivery all at once.
“My apologies,” she snapped, her indignation rising to the fore. “I had no idea my presence caused you such… discomfort.’”
His lips twisted in a semblance of a smile. “You have no idea the _discomfort _ you give me,” he rejoined, his voice hard, brutal. A predatory light entered his gaze. “Or perhaps you do,” he challenged, snatching one of her fists from her hip and folding it into his large hand.
Caught off balance, she staggered. Her other hand landed on his chest to steady herself.
Immediately, she felt his heart, strong and fast beneath her palm. She shook her head, resisting the urge to flex her fingers, to slide them over him and better explore the hard contours of muscle and flesh beneath his robe. She tugged her fist, but he held fast.
“You’re drunk,” she hissed.
“Quite,” he agreed with a brisk nod, forcing her hand lower, down his chest, down the firm ridges of his belly. “And in great discomfort,” he murmured, flinging her word back at her.
Prying her fingers open, he placed her palm over the erection tenting his robe. Air escaped between her teeth in a loud hiss. Warm fingers circled her wrist, guided her hand to move. Up and down. Up and down. His gaze scorched her, blistering her very soul as he worked her.
He swelled beneath her touch, growing in size. Desire pooled low in her belly. She squeezed her thighs tightly beneath her nightgown, attempting to relieve the growing ache between her legs.
“See what you do to me?” he asked, dragging her palm over him, faster, harder, the stiff feel of him making her breath come harsh and swift.
She longed to feel him without the silk dressing robe. His texture, his heat pulsing in the palm of her hand. No barriers. Slipping her hand inside his robe, she closed her fingers over the n**ed length of him. Silk on steel in her hand. She ran her thumb over the satin-smooth tip of him. His groan tore through her, thrilling her, emboldening her.
“Seth,” she whispered, scanning his face, the square jaw, the hard lines and shadowed hollows.
The throat that worked in speechless wonder at her ministrations.
His eyes blazed down at her, the fire there unmistakable.
An answering flare burned through her blood, her soul, filling the emptiness, the lonely ache that had been there for too long now.
He pulled her to him, lifting her onto her tiptoes and swallowing her cry with his mouth. He drank long and deep from her lips, obliterating her senses. His kiss, his rough hands moving over her arms, flamed her passion.
“Jane,” he rasped, the softness of his lips against hers a direct contrast to the rough sound of his voice. “I tried. God, I tried…”
She shook her head, not understanding the agony in his voice, not able to make sense of his words. The taste of him made her head swirl, brandy and desire, warmth and spice in her mouth.
Her shaking hands slid farther inside his loosened robe.
He could have been speaking Greek for all she understood him. Words were beyond her. There was only him. And the delicious things he made her feel. She didn’t want to wonder what brought him to her. Wanted only to savor.
Her palms skimmed his firm chest, curving over warm flesh, velvet skin stretched tight over muscle and sinew. As a girl, she had often watched his body, young and lean, on the cusp of manhood. The sight of him had excited her even then—when she hadn’t a clue what caused the burn in her blood.
Incredibly, it seemed he was hers now. His body, at any rate.
He took her bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently and murmuring against her mouth, “I don’t care what I said.” His hoarse voice stoked the warmth in her belly into a nest of writhing flames. Pulling back, his hands skated up her arms, burning through the thin cotton of her gown.
“I want you.”
Delighted relief rippled through her at his words. Words she thought she would never hear from his lips.
His brown eyes burned golden in the lamp’s glow, searing a path directly to her heart. “Tell me you want me to stay. Tell me—”
“I want you to stay,” Jane cut in, closing the distance separating them in one step. “I want you.”
A sob welled up from deep in her chest. “I’ve always wanted you—” Her voice cracked and she turned, determined to hide her face before she completely crumpled before him.
“Jane,” he groaned, hauling her into his arms, showering fierce kisses over every inch of her face before his mouth fell on hers in a savage kiss.
He lifted her in one sweep and dropped her on the bed. Still standing, he shrugged free of his robe and stood before her as she had never seen any man. At Vauxhall it had been too dark, and they had been clothed—for the most part. She had barely made out his face in the shadows. He came over her then, his body a thrilling weight, hard and large upon her. Tonight there would be no darkness.
Her hands roamed his broad back, nails digging into supple skin as he lowered his head to suckle one breast through the thin cotton of her gown. Pleasure-pain lanced through her. His teeth abraded her nipple into a hard point, and she arched against him, crying his name. One of her hands flew to fist in his hair, urging him closer.
Turning his attention to her other breast, he laved her nipple with his hot tongue, inching her nightgown up as he worked.
Cool air licked her calves, her thighs, her hips. With startling deftness, he pulled her nightgown over her head leaving her bare, exposed before him, shaking with both desire and trepidation.
“Jane.” His hand hovered above her abdomen, long fingers splayed wide, shaking ever so slightly. His hair fell over his brow, hiding his eyes as he gazed down at her. She didn’t need to see them to feel their heat, intent and searing on her. Slowly, his hand lowered to cup the slight swell of her belly. “You’re so small,” he murmured.
“Not for long.”
His gaze shot to hers, amusement flickering there. A smile hugged his well-shaped mouth.
She stopped breathing altogether when his head dipped and he pressed a series of open-mouthed kisses over her belly, working his way down her navel.
Warm fingers slid between her legs to tease at her entrance, stroking, spreading her moisture over herself in erotic circles that dragged animal-like mewls from deep in her throat. His finger plunged inside her warmth and she lurched off the bed with a ragged sob.
“Easy,” he crooned, his touch magical, working her to a fever pitch. His eyes glowed darkly as he watched her twist and writhe beneath him.
“Now,” she pleaded. Her head came off the bed. Legs opening wide, she welcomed him to her as the sky welcomed the sun at dawn. Her fingers trailed the line of his spine, cupping his tight buttocks in her hands and urging him to her—in her.
“Seth,” she pleaded, her voice low and desperate, unrecognizable.
“Jane,” he groaned, sliding into her in one smooth thrust, filling her with stunning force.
For a moment, he remained still, lodged inside her, pulsing in rhythm to the squeezing burn at her center. Every nerve in her body stretched and sang, humming in sweet, agonizing tension as he held himself over her.
An elusive smile played about his mouth as he restrained himself, hands braced on either side of her head. Gradually, he moved his hips, pumping slowly, torturing her with deep, unhurried strokes.
Her gaze devoured the man stretched above her, his beautiful bronze muscles straining over her in a way that made it clear he held himself carefully in check.
The hair fell over his forehead in a straight veil, the lamplight gilding the brown to golden flame.
Her trembling fingers brushed it away, watching as it fell back with a will of its own.
Her body arched like a bow beneath his thrusts. She flexed her inner muscles around him. His groan filled the air and his thrusts grew harder, slamming into her, stoking the fire he had started within her into a savage blaze. Higher and hotter the flames rose until her skin, her very bones, felt as though they would combust, leaving nothing but ashes behind.
“Seth!” she cried, digging her nails into the smooth muscles of his back.
His head dropped to her neck. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he muttered beneath her ear.
One of his hands slid the length of her bare thigh, lifting her leg to better meet his thrusts. He pumped harder, deeper, the friction unbearable, an exquisite pleasure-pain that drove her mad, left her gasping, sobbing, pleading, blubbering incoherently.
But he understood, knew just what to do. Answering her need, he hooked his thumbs beneath her knees and pulled back her legs for deeper a invasion.
At last, she burst, exploded into fire and ice, wind and rain. Shattered until she was a quivering pile of flesh and bones beneath him. Replete, sated, she sank back on the soft bed like a petal landing, content to still feel him over her, thrusting a final time with a loud shout of release.
A lazy smile lifted her lips. Rolling off her, he kept an arm loosely about her waist. She waited, expecting him to leave. Marcus had never remained.
Staring at the canopy above her, she stroked his hard bicep, taking pleasure in the sound of his ragged breath near her ear. She had done that to him—robbed him of breath, control. Pleasure suffused her and she snuggled deeper into his arms, her heart clenching when he tightened his hold on her. After awhile his breathing slowed and his hold relaxed. Convinced he slept, she whispered, “You should have been my first.” A small ache pinched her heart.
His chest vibrated beneath her hand, sending a thrilling shiver up her spine as his deep voice rumbled through the air, “I’ll be your last.”
Smiling, she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.
Chapter 25
Seth opened his eyes and squinted against the dimness. The drapes had not been drawn and the early morning air, chalky with the city’s usual fog, pressed against the windowpanes.
He lay on his side, Jane’s body curled into his. His arm clung to her as though he feared she might somehow vanish with the fading night. Inhaling the subtle apple scent of her, he skimmed his hand over the smooth curve of her hip, hardening at the feel of her, warm as velvet, soft as silk. Knowing he was on the verge of taking her again, he sucked a steadying breath into his lungs and unwrapped himself from her tempting curves.