Married By Morning (The Hathaways #4)(55)

It was wrong to take such pleasure in this. Everything Althea had said about her was probably true. She had a whore’s nature, a craving for masculine attention … she was indeed her mother’s daughter. She had repressed and ignored that side of herself for years. But now it was being shown to her, as surely as a reflection in a looking glass. “I don’t want to be like her,” she whispered without thinking.

“Like who?”

“My mother.”

His hand settled on her hip. “Your brother gave me the strong impression that you were definitely not like her.” He paused. “In what way are you afraid of being similar?”

Catherine was silent, her breath wavering as she tried not to choke on a new surge of tears. He was undoing her with this newfound tenderness. She would have much preferred the old mocking Leo. It seemed she had no defenses against this one.

He pressed a kiss into the hollow behind her ear. “My dear girl,” he whispered, “don’t tell me you feel guilty for having enjoyed sexual relations?”

It unnerved her further that he had reached an accurate conclusion so quickly. “Perhaps a little,” she said, her voice catching.

“Good God, I’m in bed with a puritan.” Leo uncoiled her stiff body and spread her out beneath him, ignoring her protest. “Why is it wrong for a woman to enjoy it?”

“I don’t think it’s wrong for other women.”

“Just you, then?” His voice was gently sardonic. “Why?”

“Because I’m the fourth generation of a family of prostitutes. And my aunt said I had a natural proclivity for it.”

“Everyone does, love. It’s how the world is populated.”

“No, not for that. For prostitution.”

He snorted derisively. “There is no such thing as a natural proclivity for selling oneself. Prostitution is forced on women by a society that allows them damned few options to support themselves. And as for you … I’ve never met a woman less equipped for it.” He played with the tangled runners of her hair. “I’m afraid I don’t follow your logic. It’s no sin to enjoy a man’s touch, nor does that have anything to do with prostitution. Anything your aunt told you was pure manipulation—for obvious reasons.” His mouth lowered to her neck, pressing kisses along the taut surface. “We can’t have you feeling guilty,” he said. “Especially when it’s so misguided.”

She sniffled. “Morality isn’t misguided.”

“Ah. There’s the problem. You have morality, guilt, and pleasure all mixed together.” His hand went to her breast, cupping tenderly. The sensation shot to the pit of her stomach. “There’s nothing moral about denying pleasure, and nothing wrong about wanting it.” She felt him smile against her skin. “What you need is to indulge in several long nights of uncivilized lust with me. It would drive all the guilt out of you. And if that didn’t work, at least I would be happy.” His hand swept down her body, his thumb brushing the top edge of intimate curls. Her belly tightened beneath his palm. His fingers trailed deeper.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Helping you with your problem. No, don’t thank me, it’s no trouble at all.” His smiling mouth brushed against hers, and he moved over her in the darkness. “What word do you use for this, love?”

“For what?”

“For this sweet place … here.”

Her body jerked at his gentle caress. She could hardly speak. “I don’t have a word for that.”

“Then how do you refer to it?”

“I don’t!”

He laughed quietly. “I know several words. But the French, not surprisingly, have the nicest one. Le chat.”

“The cat?” she asked, bewildered.

“Yes, a double meaning for a feline and a woman’s softest part. Puss. *. The sweetest fur … no, don’t be shy. Ask me to pet you.”

The words stole her breath away. “My lord,” she protested faintly.

“Ask and I’ll do it,” he prompted, his fingers withdrawing to play in the sensitive hollow behind her knee.

She swallowed back a moan.

“Ask,” came his coaxing whisper.

“Please.”

Leo kissed her thigh, his mouth soft and hot, his bristle an exciting scrape against the tender skin. “Please what?”

Wicked man. She squirmed and covered her face with her hands, even though they were in complete darkness. Her voice was muffled by the screen of her fingers. “Please pet me there.”

His touch came so lightly she could scarcely feel it at first, fingertips stirring, teasing. “Like this?”

“Yes, oh yes…” Her h*ps lifted, inviting more. He fingered the folds of her sex, massaging delicately, tracing the softness within. The skillful caresses brought her body to trembling readiness.

“What else should I do?” Leo whispered, moving lower in the darkness. She felt his breath on her, heat against moisture, a soft intermittent blowing. Her h*ps arched and strained without volition.

“Make love to me.”

He sounded gently regretful. “No, you’re too sore.”

“Leo,” she whimpered.

“Shall I kiss you instead? Here?” His fingertip swirled.