A Taste of Desire(103)
Clearing the thickness in his throat, he took in her heart-stopping features, her flawless skin and her lush pink lips. Just the thought of her kissing another man sent his emotions rioting in rebellion. She was his, and the sooner she came to realize it, the better for them both.
“Yes, it would bother me.” His admission came in a low voice, while pinning her with a look designed to indicate to her just how much.
Sapphire eyes widened before her hands became lost in the folds of her crimson skirt.
“And I think you know why,” he continued softly, refusing to let her look away, to hide her feelings from him behind the mask she’d worn so long. He knew the passion simmering beneath the beautiful woman she was on the outside. He’d felt the hot, wet clasp of her sex on his as her body convulsed in orgasm. Just the memory of it caused his member to stiffen, urging him to satisfy its call.
“I’m not completely certain what you want from me. At first I thought you intended to seduce me for revenge, but now things are so different between us.”
The vulnerability in her voice was endearing, stinging his conscience with remorse. For the expediency of their courtship, he would not admit that initially that had been his intent. He’d wait until their relationship was on firmer ground. They might even be able to laugh about it in the future.
“Do you honestly believe I would bed a woman out of revenge?” Which was not a lie. He hadn’t planned to actually take her. He’d made love to her because he couldn’t help himself.
Her gaze probed his for a moment before a smile appeared. “But the thought must have crossed your mind. I’d given you ample reason to dislike me.”
He chuckled at her gross understatement. “I think we’ve established I like you fine enough.”
With his right hand, he stilled her fidgeting fingers and stared deeply into her eyes. “I made love to you because I desperately wanted you and for no other reason. Does that answer your question?”
The soothing stroke of his thumb on her palm and the warmth of his flesh had Amelia’s senses clamoring in response.
She nodded as a fire ignited between her thighs.
“Good,” he said, in a low, hypnotic voice. “I want there to be no misunderstanding between us. May I escort you to your chamber?”
His request sounded decadent and forbidden. Yes, and wonderfully sinful. Amelia said nothing, knowing her silence signaled her willingness. He rose still clutching her hand in a firm but gentle grip. She allowed him to assist her to her somewhat shaky feet, and they made the trek up the stairs, his hand hovering near the small of her back.
“What about your sister—the others? They are awaiting me in the drawing room.” Her protest was as much an afterthought as one could be.
Thomas gave a husky laugh, lowering his mouth to her ear. “My brother-in-law is too newly married to spend time in the evening drinking port with Cartwright. He’s already spent the entire day with him. Believe me when I say, everyone has already retired for the night.”
Amelia didn’t say another word but continued on to her room, anticipation unfurling inside her. At her chamber, she turned to face him, and he stepped forward, crowding her, forcing her back against the solid wood door. When he lowered his head, his intent was clear and so greatly anticipated she found herself reaching out to draw him to her. She hadn’t his patience.
The light of the gas-lit wall sconce flickered. She blinked, suddenly struck by their location as they stood in the hallway where anyone could happen upon them.
Her arms stiffened and she pulled her head back. “Wait,” she croaked, “what if someone—?”
He dropped a hard kiss on her mouth. Amelia went silent. Raising his hands, he slid his fingers into her chignon, dislodging several pins. His breath was warm against her face, his lips now feathering hers. “This wing of the house is just for non-family members, and Missy considers Cartwright a relation. No one sleeps here but you. But you’re right—we need someplace much more private for what I have in mind.”
The feel of his fingers tunneling through her hair and stroking her scalp would have had her sliding to the floor if not for the support of his arms.
When his lips finally made contact with hers, there was no pretense. She wanted it, craved it in the most absurd, mindless manner. She didn’t wait, couldn’t wait for his tongue to find hers, thrusting hers in a relentless search. But he pulled his head back a fraction, making her endure tiny nips to the corners of her mouth, the curve of her chin and the vulnerable line of her neck.