Stranger in My Arms(43)

“Lara,” he said, his voice gravelly. “I want you so much. Let me kiss you… taste you…” Haste made him clumsy, and he pulled at the bodice of her gown until her shoulder was bare and the lace was uncomfortably tight.

Lara whimpered, torn between indecision and excitement. “That’s enough,” she said, her hands fluttering against his shoulders.

“You shouldn’t… This isn’t something I…”

But Hunter had found one of the silk ribbons and tugged it loose, the black lace spilling open to display her br**sts. Filling his hands with the opulent curves, he spread greedy kisses over her tender skin.

He captured a rosy nipple in his mouth and sucked greedily, while she shuddered and tried to push him away.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he said fiercely.

Lara couldn’t answer, couldn’t speak with his tongue sliding between her br**sts, his hands roaming over her na**d skin. He jerked the second ribbon free, and the gown sagged to her hips. Growling in pleasure, Hunter kissed her belly, his tongue flickering around the rim of her navel before dipping delicately inside. Lara moaned in astonishment, jerking at the hot, moist touch, her fingers clutching at the rough silk of his hair.

Hunter pushed his head against her midriff with a tormented groan, and slid his arm around her waist.

“Don’t stop me,” he breathed. “Please.”

He picked her up as if she were a child, lurching toward the bed in a few drunken strides. Placing her on the mattress, he followed immediately, his large body levering over hers, his hands framing her face.

He kissed her hungrily, his tongue plunging and exploring her mouth, while she moaned in fearful delight. Tentatively she raised her arms around his neck, and his throat hummed with pleasure. His hand released its gentle clasp on her face and slid to the top of her thigh, where the thatch of dark curls was still veiled by the negligee.

“No… wait,” Lara said, clenching her legs together.

To her surprise, he obeyed, resting his hand on the plane of her abdomen. He dropped his head beside hers, digging his forehead into the mattress. His lungs contracted with a great shuddering sigh.

They were both silent then, the heat of their bodies mingling. Hunter was so heavy next to her, his limbs stretching out well beyond hers.

Another time, long ago, he would have forced himself on her.

Filled with wonder and gratitude, Lara rested her hand on the heavy arm that crossed over her waist.

She moved her palm over the hard curve of muscle, up to his shoulder.

A wicked thought flashed through her mind, that she wished he had removed his shirt and exposed the tanned skin that intrigued her so.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice a mere wisp of sound. “Thank you for not forcing me.”

His silence emboldened her, and she stroked his shoulder in the first affectionate gesture she had ever dared to make toward him. “It’s not that I find you unattractive,” she murmured. A blush covered her face as she continued. “In fact, I think you’re actually rather…

appealing.” She turned until her mouth was pressed furtively against the hot skin of his throat. “I’m glad you came back. Truly.”

A soft snore rumbled near her ear.

Startled, Lara drew back and looked at him. Her husband’s eyes were shut and his lips were parted like a slumbering child’s. “Hunter,” she said cautiously. He made a contented sound and snuggled against the counterpane. A raspy sigh escaped his throat, and the snoring resumed.

Lara bit her lip to hold back a sudden laugh. She disentangled herself from him and left the bed, kicking away the negligee as it tangled around her ankles. Hurrying to the armoire, she donned a fresh nightgown and robe. Hunter remained on the bed, a peaceful heap of long limbs and rattling snores.

Safely attired once more, Lara approached her husband. A wry smile curved her lips, and she reached for his feet, removing his shoes and stockings. She hesitated before unbuttoning his waistcoat, half expecting him to waken suddenly. He was lax and heavy, his muscles slack as she removed the wellfilled garment.

Leaving him in his shirt and breeches, she pulled the side of the counterpane over him, protecting him from the chill of the night.

Before turning down the lamp, Lara paused to take one last glance at her husband: He was like some magnificent slumbering beast, all his alertness and vitality temporarily banked, his claws sheathed. But on the morrow he would be back in his usual form, mocking, argumentative, charming… and he would resume his efforts to seduce her.

What unnerved her was the realization that in some small way she was actually looking forward to it.

Frowning, Lara went to his bedroom to spend the night alone.

Chapter 11

JOHNNY SAT ON a chair next to Lara’s, his seat augmented with a pile of books that elevated him to table height. The white napkin tied around his neck was splashed with chocolate, a treat that Lara guessed he had never tasted before. After gulping down a cup of the brew so quickly that she was certain he had burned his tongue, he repeatedly demanded another.

“First you must eat something,” Lara said, nudging a little dish of eggs baked in cream toward him.

“Try some of these-they’re delicious.”

Johnny eyed the gold and white splendor of the shirred eggs with open suspicion. “I don’t want those.”

“They’ll help you to grow big and strong,” Lara coaxed.