When Strangers Marry (Vallerands #1)(29)

“The circumstances were unusual.”

“Is that an apology? It doesn’t sound like one.”

“I apologize,” he said through his teeth, approaching her.

“Very well.” Lysette gave his disheveled form a boldly appraising glance from head to toe. “Since I am optimistic by nature, I will assume that such behavior isn’t usual for you. Now please explain why I should want to marry you.”

Max contemplated her for a long time, obviously coming to the realization that bullying would not work with her. His eyes narrowed as he decided to negotiate.

“I’m a wealthy man, by anyone’s standards. As my wife, you could have anything that you desired.”

How like a man, to think that his wealth was his primary attraction. Lysette showed no reaction to the statement. “What else?” she asked.

He moved closer with the stealth of a hungry predator. “I would take care of you. You already know that.”

The reminder of how he had cared for her during the fever softened Lysette, but she was careful not to let him see it. “What about our age difference?”

“Age difference?” His masculine pride was obviously stung.

She suppressed a smile. “There are at least fifteen years between us.”

“That’s not uncommon,” he pointed out.

That was true. Many Creole men, especially ones from wealthy families, sowed their oats for years before they finally married in their thirties or even forties. Many others lost their first and even second wives to childbirth or disease, and they married again to girls straight from the schoolroom.

“Still,” Lysette persisted, “there would be difficulties in store for a couple with so many years between them.”

“Au contraire. I can guarantee that I would be far more accommodating than a husband your own age. If you marry me, I would allow you a great deal of freedom.”

That was his strongest point yet, but Lysette kept her face expressionless. “Is there anything else I should take into consideration?”

He reached for her, fast as a striking panther. “There’s this,” he muttered, pulling her into his arms.

She inhaled sharply, too stunned to move. His mouth was scorching, his lips searching and pressing with gentle insistence. Lysette pushed at him just a little, and he gripped her wrists and pulled them around his neck. Her slim body was flattened against his from chest to knees, anchored by his large hand at the small of her back. The intimate taste of him, sweet and dark and male, made her feel drunk. Excitement and pleasure flooded her, and she leaned helplessly against his hard body. He tasted her upper lip and then touched the center of the lower one with his tongue, a moist silken stroke that set her nerves on fire. “Open your mouth,” he whispered, his hand cupping behind her head. “Open for me, Lysette, yes, yes….”

She was astonished to feel his tongue sliding past her teeth, exploring the inside of her mouth. A moan shivered in her throat. Kissing him was even sweeter and richer than she had imagined— and she could no longer deny to herself that she had imagined it many times. Her sensual awareness of him had begun the moment they had met and had finally expanded into something elemental… uncontrollable.

Max claimed her with gently exploring kisses, while his hand urged her h*ps more tightly against his. He made a cradle of her loins, nudging the hard, unmistakable shape of his erection into the most vulerable part of her. She gasped at the rising heat that made her want to tear at her own clothes, and his, until they were both naked.

Realizing that she was about to lose all self-control, not to mention her sanity, Lysette tore her mouth from his and drew in huge lungfuls of air. His lips wandered along her throat, licking and nibbling at sensitive places. He murmured in French and English, entreaties that aroused her, promises that astonished her.

“Max…” she said breathlessly, “I’m not certain that physical attraction is a good enough reason to marry.”

“By God, it is for me,” he growled, and fastened his mouth over hers again. The taste of him was addictive. She couldn’t stop herself from responding avidly to the deep, languid strokes of his tongue. His free hand coasted over her body, moving up to the curve of her breast. The heat of his hand sank through the soft cotton, and his thumb moved in ever-diminishing circles until it reached the exquisitely hard center. He took the delicate point of her nipple between his fingers, and pleasure shot deep into the pit of her belly. Gripping his hard-muscled back with her hands, she pulled herself against him.

A groan reverberated in Max’s chest, and he swung her up suddenly, carrying her to the bed. In the few strides it took him to reach it, Lysette realized what was happening. Although her body demanded that she surrender to him right then and there, her mind recalled the reasons why it was still far too soon.

As soon as he laid her on the bed, Lysette rolled away and sat up. She held out a restraining hand as Max began to crawl over her.

“No,” she gasped. “No, don’t.”

It was amazing, in retrospect, that mere words had the power to stay him, when his gaze devoured her as if he were starved, and his body was clearly primed for conquest. However, he held still and inhaled deeply as he strove to master himself.

“If I were to accept your proposal…” Lysette paused to take a deep, steadying breath. “I would require some time to become accustomed to you before I let you into my bed. We are still strangers, after all.”