Somewhere I'll Find You (Capital Theatre #1)(55)

The sway of the carriage broke their lips apart, and Julia sought another kiss, but he resisted. His mouth wandered in a new quest along the tender surface of her neck, down to the madly pulsing hollow of her throat. He found the exposed valley between her br**sts and nuzzled deeply, while his fingers tugged at the fabric that covered them. A faint cry escaped Julia's lips as she felt him bite softly at the peak of her breast. Her hands came to his head, holding him there, her fingers curling into his thick black hair. His tongue stroked and swirled over the sensitive point of her nipple, again and again, until she arched up to him with a moan. Moving to her other breast, he toyed with her leisurely, seeming to relish the small, helpless sounds she made.

When they were both breathing fast and hard, desire pounding through their bodies, Damon pulled her upright, his mouth at her ear. “Tell me you don't want this,” he whispered fiercely. “Tell me you can see me, talk to me, without thinking about this…without needing me as much as I need you. And then tell me you want nothing more than friendship.”

Trembling, Julia leaned against him, her na**d br**sts pressing into the fine linen and wool of his clothes. Her mind was strangely slow to form thoughts. “I do want you,” she said with a small sob, afraid of her own needs, and the heartbreak that awaited her if she gave in to them. She must not let herself love him, or depend on him. That would give him the power to strip away all her strength and self-reliance. It would be worse than all the years of living with her dictatorial father. This man would own her very soul.

Damon pushed her long hair aside, kissed her bare shoulder, and clasped her close enough that she could feel the stiff shape of his arousal beneath her. Shivering, she pressed herself down on the hard length, fitting her softness against him until he groaned against her hair.

“Don't…or I'll take you right here.” He kissed her roughly, exploring her mouth in a storm of passion, and she answered his demand with one of her own.

The carriage stopped, and Julia realized that they had arrived at his estate. Tearing herself away, she retreated to the opposite seat and fumbled with her bodice. Her fingers were clumsy as she pulled the fabric together and tugged at the gold cord to tighten the lacing. When she had managed to restore a semblance of modesty, she looked up to find Damon's steady gaze on her.

“Come inside with me,” he said. There was a tautness about his face and a banked glow in his eyes that made it clear what would happen if she accompanied him.

No, she cried inwardly, but somehow the word wouldn't come out. She wanted to be with him, wanted him to soothe the physical ache of her body, and give her the same peace and fulfillment she had experienced before. One more night with him…would it cause any more harm than had already been done? Ashamed of her weakness, overcome with temptation, she struggled with her feelings.

Damon made the decision for her, opening the carriage door and reaching inside. Her hand was caught in his, and she let him tug her from the vehicle. The footman rushed ahead of them to open the front door of the mansion, and they crossed the threshold into the quiet entrance hall. It must have been the servants' night off—there was no one in sight, and the place was dimly lit.

As soon as the door closed, Damon turned her in his arms and kissed her, his mouth urgent as it descended over hers. Julia shuddered in pleasure and stood on her toes to fit herself against him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. Damon moved his lips to whisper at her ear, something tender and erotic…but Julia stiffened as she saw a movement beyond him. Startled, she pushed at his chest and stared wide-eyed at the intruder. Turning his head, Damon looked as well.

A woman was coming down the stairs in a slow, deliberate saunter, her h*ps swaying gracefully. The folds of her thin gown, fashioned in transparent layers of peach, moved about her thighs and ankles like liquid. It was a seductive garment intended to ensnare a man's attention. She was barefoot, as if she had just arisen from bed and come to welcome unexpected guests.

“Pauline,” Damon muttered, sounding stunned.

Julia eased away from him, unconsciously smoothing her skirts. Even with the hard look in her eyes, Pauline was extraordinarily beautiful, her hair dark and silky as it tumbled down her back, her eyes slanted like a cat's.

“I thought to surprise you, darling,” Pauline said softly, seeming to be in utter command of the situation. “Little did I know that I would be the one surprised. I didn't expect that with everything so unresolved between us, you would be entertaining another woman tonight.” She reached the bottom of the stairs and folded her arms, causing her cle**age to swell enticingly. Her cool, amused gaze fell on Julia. “What has happened to you, my dear? You look terribly bedraggled…and the two of you reek of smoke.”

“A mishap at the theater,” Julia replied shortly.

“Ah.” Pauline looked back at Damon, arching her fine brows. “You've become quite a devotee of the theater lately, haven't you?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked in a hard voice.

She looked wounded at his tone. One slim hand came to her stomach, reminding him of her delicate condition. “I thought we needed to talk…and since you wouldn't come to me, this seemed to be my only choice.” She looked once more at Julia. “Do run along, won't you? Damon and I require some privacy. I'm certain you can find some other man to satisfy your needs tonight.”