An Unforgettable Lady(51)

"Listen to me, Countess. This body of mine is built for f*cking. Do you even know what that is? We're talking one-night stands, up against a wall, don't know her name and don't care kind of shit. You don't want that."

She looked downcast, as if he'd robbed her of something.

"Hell." He let out some of his frustration with a deep breath. Everything that he'd been dreaming about was in his arms but the only thing he could do was let it go. "Don't you understand? You deserve better than what I can give you. You need someone who's going to make love to you. Not screw you and then leave you and your bed in a mess."

"You wouldn't do that."

"Oh yes, I would." Smith couldn't turn away but didn't want to kiss her because he knew he'd be lost.



So he pushed his hands into the waves of her hair and pulled them forward. The ends landed below her breasts, which were rising and falling as she breathed through her mouth. He lifted a strand and carried it forward to his nose. Breathing in, he caught the fragrance of jasmine. As he let the hair fall, he watched it settle between her breasts and curl obligingly around one silk-covered nipple.

Sweet Jesus, he wanted her.

He looked at her lips. They were parted, bow-shaped, tender.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said darkly. The truth was a surprise.

"I know." She reached up and touched his face, moving her palm down over the rasp of his beard growth. "But I don't want to be saved. That's not what I want. Not tonight."

Fighting himself was hard. Turning her down was ... impossible.

Smith bent forward and softly he stroked her mouth with his own. When he heard her moan, he put more pressure into the kiss and gathered her into his arms. As his tongue stole out to lick her lower lip, he felt her hands grip on to him. Moving even closer, he explored her mouth, delving deeper and deeper.

His fingers went to the straps of her nightgown. Slowly, he released the satin ribbons from her shoulders until she was bare to his eyes and the silk bodice was a pool around her hips. Blood roared in his ears and he pulled her down to the bed so that she was lying back against the lace covered duvet. He began to kiss the skin at her collarbone and then went lower, ravishing her breasts and then her stomach.

With growing urgency, his hands moved over the swell of her hips and down her thighs. Going under the thin wisp of her nightgown, he stroked her legs, pushing the fragile silk up as he went.

When Smith slid his hand to her inner thigh, he felt the soft skin and the heat coming off of her. As he moved higher, he relished the sensation of her undulating underneath him and he looked up. The image of her with her arched back and her head cocked at an angle so she could watch him was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen.

He put his mouth on her stomach, just below her belly button, and prayed for self control. As his hands moved ever closer to her core, his mouth followed, kissing her skin through the silk. He had every intention of learning her intimately. With his fingers. His tongue. His body.

Smith's excitement grew to such heights that at first he didn't notice when her hands began to push against his shoulders. She started to thrash around but he assumed it was from the same passion he was feeling.

He was wrong.

"No! Stop!" Grace said, with alarm, jack knifing up straight.

She began to struggle with the nightgown and then gave up, pulling over a pillow to cover her breasts. She was shaking and pale.

Smith shifted to the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. He was fighting to slow down the raging hunger in his body, cursing himself with every ragged breath.

"I'm—I'm sorry," she said softly. She reached out to him, touched his arm.

He yanked back. The last thing he needed was her hand on him. Not while he was trying to convince his inner caveman to get civilized.

"It's not that I don't want to..."

"But the wrong side of the tracks was tougher to visit than you'd thought?" His voice was hoarse.

"Good God, no. It's not that at all. It's just that... my husband—"

"I don't really want to hear about him right now, if you don't mind." Smith got to his feet. He needed to get the hell away from her. "Good night, Countess."

He left in a rush, walking back to his room in long, angry strides. He wanted to close all of the doors between them.

Lock them tight, for Chrissakes. He felt like,he needed something a hell of a lot more sturdy than his will to keep them apart.