Forever My Love (Berkeley-Faulkner #2)(90)

Unconsciously she murmured his name, a trail of wetness slipping from the outside corners of her eyes down to her temples. The taste of her tears was on his tongue, and Alec cupped her head in both of his hands as his lips skimmed over her face. Pleasure sifted through her in silky ripples, like light moving through water. His hands stroked her body, his fingers and knuckles lingered in the warm, damp crevices of her, and she found herself floating in a dream world… she was part of the silence and the darkness, writhingunderneath the slow, knowing movements of Alec’s hands. The tip of his tongue traced the silkiness of her inner cheeks, delving repeatedly… his fingertips drifted over the softness of her abdomen, massaging gently until the hunger began to stir inside her once more. “Oh…” she breathed, pulling her mouth from his, “... you can’t, we just…”

“What have you done to me? Damn you, it’s like this with no one else. No one. Do you understand that you’re the only one I want? After that night, I couldn’t forget you--I can’t leave you alone, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to give you up again.” His middle finger traced a path through the downy curls between her legs to a small secret place that was painfully oversensitive. She flinched and tried to jerk away. “Don’t!” she gasped in protest, and the stroke of his fingertip became so light that she could barely feel it. Sucking in her breath, she relaxed and accepted the gentle, tickling touch, concentrating on that tiny circling of his finger... she groaned and shifted underneath him, and he stifled her restless sounds with his mouth, continuing to knead her with that same teasing slow- ■ ness until there was a hot, satiny wetness between her 1 legs.

Mira looked up at him with eyes that had darkened to black. “Alec?” she gasped, starting to struggle beneath him.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispered. “I want to watch you.” He lowered his mouth to hers, muffling her cry of pleasure, and her body convulsed violently, straining to accept the flood of ecstasy that suffused her. He held her securely, his arms strong and secure arouiu her, and she collapsed against him, her limbs slack ant trembling. Burying her face in his neck, Mira wa racked with such a confusing mixture of emotions tha tears came unbidden to her eyes, and she wept softh for a reason that she didn’t understand, pressing he face against his warm skin. “Mira… sweet… don ,cry.” Alec reached underneath her disheveled clothes and stroked her back gently.

“Before tonight I thought… I thought I finally had control over everything—”

“So did I… God, don’t cry, I can stand anything but your tears.”

“Why did I let it happen?” she asked, sniffling angracefully. “I should never have—”

“There was no way to avoid it,” Alec said against her temple, and he dug in his vest pocket for a handkerchief. She accepted the white linen square and blew her nose, her forehead wrinkling in misery as she realized that except for his unfastened breeches, Alec was still fully dressed.

“You… you didn’t even take your boots off,” she said in a watery voice, wiping her eyes with a corner of the handkerchief. “Oh, how awful—”

“Mira…” Suddenly a tremor of laughter laced through his voice. “Would you feel better about this if I had removed my clothes?”

She did not know what he found so amusing about the situation. “Of course I would have. I think… I don’t know…”

“My precious brat, I wasn’t thinking about boots or clothes… except for how to remove the ones that were in the way.”

“Oh, stop sounding so damned pleased with yourself, and… and let me up—I’ve got to think of what to do…” She covered her eyes with her hand and let out a shuddering sigh. “Name of God, what have I done?” Had she ever been in a predicament this dire? She was a disheveled, tumbled mess, and in only a few minutes she would have to meet Rosalie, whose eye for detail was able to detect the disarrangement of one lock of hair… and after this she would have to attend a ball filled with people who would surely know what she had been doing.

“I know that you’re accustomed to thinking for your-self,” Alec said, sitting up and calming her struggles as she attempted to twist out of his lap, “but for once you’re going to let me help. Be still.” Too tired to fight him, Mira allowed him to cradle her against his broad chest. He spoke to her with calm assurance, as if he were supremely accustomed to being in this sort of dilemma. He probably was, Mira thought woefully, and rested her head on his shoulder. “It will take only a few minutes to reassemble your costume, and then it will be time for you to meet Lady Berkeley. If I heard correctly, she has been meeting with Canning—”

“You are a terrible eavesdropper,” she said gruffly.

“I’m a very good eavesdropper,” Alec corrected equably. “After you meet Lady Berkeley again, tell her that you wish to retire to your room early. Tell her that your head aches—”

“I can’t tell her that, she’s the one who is supposed to have the headache.”

“Then tell her your monthly time has—”

“I’ll tell her that my head aches,” Mira interrupted hastily. “But no matter what excuse I offer, she’ll know after looking at me that something has happened, and I don’t know what sort of explanation will—”