Treacherous Temptations(32)

…

Mary knew she should rouse him. The coach would surely arrive soon, but he seemed to be sleeping so peacefully…and deeply. His countenance was relaxed, almost boyish in repose. Who was this man who had so many different faces? She had tried for days to puzzle him out, yet he remained an utter conundrum.

The fluttery feeling returned to her stomach when her gaze roved over his face, the almost obscenely thick lashes, the delectable dimple in his chin, his sensuous mouth. He had such a beautiful mouth. How she loved the feel of his warm soft lips.

An impulse sluiced through her to kiss him, just a brush of her lips to his. The compulsion to act was as palpable as a physical ache. Akin to Eve in the Garden of Eden, she had tasted the fruit of passion and now hungered for more.

As she stared at him Mary realized once more just how lost, how hopelessly infatuated, she was. She wanted him, but desperately, wanted him to reciprocate her feelings. These mad thoughts careened with her innate good sense until Mary finally shook them off. No. This ridiculous obsession must end. No good could ever come of it.

Determined only to wake him, Mary lowered herself to the ground by his side to give him a gentle shake, but the moment she placed her hands on his shoulders, he raised his lids to reveal dark, sleep-drugged eyes—eyes that dropped to her mouth and fixed there.

Mary hovered in uncertainty, forgetting to breathe. Yet he did nothing, made no move, as if he compelled her, by force of will alone, to acknowledge her own desire. Unwittingly, her hand drifted to his face, and her fingertips brushed over his mouth. He parted his lips and she closed her eyes, relishing the tantalizing twin sensations of his warm breath and soft mouth.

…

It was the most innocent of caresses and Hadley couldn’t contain the urge to taste her. But when he flicked out his tongue, she withdrew as if stung—only to bring her fingers to her own lips. Most telling indeed.

Her gaze darted again to his mouth. Her tongue flicked out, wetting her lips and he reached for her, cupping her nape in gentle encouragement. She closed the distance, inch by tentative inch, shutting her eyes on a sigh as her mouth lightly skirted over his.

He parted for her but remained passive, letting her explore. She grew bolder, slanting her head, and kissing him again, nibbling at his mouth, drawing his lower lip between her teeth and sucking on it, before offering a soft stroke of her tongue. Her passion, like the bloom of a hothouse flower, was delicious in its unfurling.

He pulled her onto his lap and cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples with his thumbs and opening his mouth to her kiss. Their tongues met and tangled, and then he took control, deepening the kiss, transforming it from her tentative exploration into his possession. He devoured her mouth with lips, teeth, and tongue, with each new stroke and every touch firing the passion he’d awakened, fueling her burgeoning desire into a roaring flame. Hadley had set out to seduce her, had already taken her to heaven with his hands, and now he would sate her in the most intimate and mutually satisfying way. He lowered his head to suckle her breast.

“Please Hadley,” she whimpered, arching into his hands and all but begging for his possession. She ground against his pulsing cock and his barely contained lust took hold of him. Thick, hot, and heavy, it flared, heating his blood and blurring his mind. While distracting her with his mouth, he snaked a hand under her skirts, stealing up the length of her thighs. He found and parted her nether lips, gloriously slick with her arousal. He groaned with the ache to be inside her, engulfed in that sweet, wet, feminine heat.

But then he made a fatal error.

In the face of Mary’s surrender, when she burned white hot, with her breaths shortened to desperate pants, and need racking quivers through her body—he looked into her face. And in the depths of her green and gold-flecked gaze, he saw honesty, trust, yearning, and something else he refused to identify staring back at him. The searching look in her eyes sent an agonizing jolt through him.

Bloody hell! He was completely undone! Hadley withdrew from her with a muttered curse and the awareness of a baffling compulsion to protect her—from himself!

“Why?” she asked, her voice almost a sob.

“I think you don’t know what you ask,” he replied thickly. “Lust is the most potent of all potions, my dear. It is intoxicating in the extreme and over-indulgence can cloud the mind and confuse the emotions.” Good God! Was that his voice spouting ludicrous platitudes?

But Hadley knew of what he spoke, for lust was his boon companion, and sex, a function akin to eating and drinking. He was accustomed to treating his lust most generously, feeding it frequently, and ensuring it was well sated–for Hadley had known many lovers.

He’d exchanged heated whispers and meaningless declarations more times than he could possibly count. He’d been with so many women that he’d forgotten most of their names, and the majority of their faces were now just a vague amalgamation in his distant memory. Most had been wealthy, and some had even been beautiful, and he’d given them all pleasure and taken his own. Without fail. And without emotional ties of any kind.

In all those years, with all those lovers, he had never been affected outside the momentous moment of physical release. Even the word ‘release’ signified that his lovers had no further claim on him beyond that rapturous act. But now here he was with his grand seduction scheme cast aside, his resolve shattered, and long dormant emotions threatening to burst out of him.