A Week to Be Wicked (Spindle Cove #2)(97)

“To our what?” Her heart missed a beat. “To our children?” Had he been dreaming of a life with her?

“Minerva, you’re the most clever person I know. You can look at a queer-shaped hole in the ground and see a rich, vibrant ancient world. Look at me now.”

Looking him in those fiery Bristol-diamond eyes was never a trial.

“Tell me the truth,” he said. “Do you see a pleasant future with me?”

She reached for him, teasing her fingers through his hair. “Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“When I look at you, my thoughts are something like this: God only knows what trials lie down that path.” Smiling, she slipped her arms around his neck. “But take heart, Colin. Some women like to be surprised.”

He was silent for a long, breathless moment.

“Well, then,” he said darkly. He caught her up in one swift motion. “Surprise.”

Chapter Thirty

Colin flattened her to the wall, greedily clutching her everywhere he could reach. Pressing fervent kisses to her brow, her cheek, her lips.

He needed this. Needed her.

Needed it now.

He yanked the buttons of her shift loose. Unfastening some, simply popping others from their threads. Soon the frail linen garment lay discarded at her feet.

“Minerva.” With a resonant sigh, he pressed the full length of his clothed body to her nakedness. Bracing his hands against the wall, he nudged her thighs apart with his knee. Bending his head, he kissed and licked her neck, all the while grinding his desperate erection against her heat.

A groan welled in his chest. “I need you, Min. Need you so much.”

“I’m here,” she breathed. Her arms draped over his shoulders. “I’m yours.”

I’m yours. A sweet pang of emotion wrenched his heart. Still, he kept his hands braced on the wallpaper—not trusting himself to touch her yet.

He backed up a bit, wanting to see. To admire.

She reached for him. “Colin . . .”

“Wait.” His voice shook with desire. “Let me look at you.”

She fell back against the wallpaper, displaying herself for his view. He’d never dreamed a woman could be so beautiful.

She looked more luminous against this wall than a Dutch master’s painting ever could. Her flawless skin would make a porcelain shepherdess weep bitter, envious tears. And her br**sts . . .

He didn’t have a decorative parallel for her br**sts. But they made him hard as the parquet floor. Her br**sts were every bit as wildly arousing as the first time he’d glimpsed them in that London inn.

He kissed his way down her elegant throat, pausing to suckle each of those luscious ni**les as he sank to his knees. When his knees met the floor, he made himself comfortable there, resting on his haunches. Pressing light kisses to her navel. Nuzzling her thigh. Settling in for a nice long visit.

“God.” He nudged her legs apart and sifted through her dark curls. “I’ve been wanting this forever.”

She laughed nervously. “We’ve been traveling a week.”

“It’s been forever.” He parted her with his fingers, exploring her folds and circling his thumb over her swollen pearl. “You can’t know, Min. You can’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you.”

He pressed a single, chaste kiss to her sex. Just a prelude, so she wouldn’t be too shocked.

Then he slid one arm under her knee, hooking it over his shoulder. With his hands, he bracketed her hips, reaching toward her sex with both thumbs to spread her wide to his view. To his kiss.

She made a strangled noise. “Colin—”

“Shush.” He blew the word over her delicate flesh. “You had your chance to explore every bit of me. Now it’s my turn.”

And explore he did. Most thoroughly. He ran his tongue—just lightly—over every flushed, dewy petal of her sex. Down one side, up the other . . . until he centered on that swollen bud at the crest. Again, teasing lightly. Just lightly. Until her breath went ragged and she arched her hips, digging her heel into his back to pull him close.

Yes. That’s it. Hold me close and tight. Claim me. Make me a slave to your pleasure.

But something wicked in him wouldn’t give her what she craved. Not yet. He kept up his light, teasing attentions. Until she rocked against his mouth in an urgent rhythm, and needy whimpers eased from her throat.

“Oh, Colin. Oh, God.”

So blasphemous, but he loved being classed above the divine in her universe. Even if only for a brief, wanton second.

“Yes, darling?” he murmured, between slow, languid strokes of his tongue.

“I need . . . I need something.”

“This?” He dipped his tongue inside her.

She gasped and bucked. “More.”

Her grip twisted in his hair. Her heady taste lingered on his tongue. He needed more, too. And he couldn’t wait a moment longer.

Lowering her leg to the ground, Colin pushed to his feet and hastily stepped out of his unfastened trousers. He pulled his shirt over his head and cast it aside. Clutching her backside in both hands, he lifted her against the wall. He pinned her with a fierce gaze, determined to read her every emotion.

“Do you want me, Min?”

“Yes.”

“Need me?”