To Romance a Charming Rogue

Recalling the role she was supposed to be playing, Eleanor sent him a slow, flirtatious smile. “You are allowed to have fantasies, just not act on them.”

“Very well, I shall endeavor to keep myself under control, although it will be difficult.”

Clasping his hands over his abdomen, Damon leaned back in his chair and stretched his long, bare legs out in front of him, which had the result of parting the folds of his dressing gown to reveal a length of powerful thighs. Eleanor was very certain now that he was naked except for his robe.

She inhaled a ragged breath and drank more wine.

But Damon had seen the focus of her gaze and smiled. “Surely you can't fault me for taking off my wet clothing.”

“You could have donned some dry breeches.”

“Whatever for? You are my wife now. It's permitted for us to see each other unclothed.” He paused. “Regrettably, I have yet to see you fully undressed. But I have thought about nothing else since you walked into the room. What are you wearing beneath your robe, Elle? Are you naked?”

A heated tremor eddied deep inside her. Eleanor took another sip of wine for fortitude before replying indirectly, “I know what you are doing, Damon.”

“Just what am I doing, love?”

“You are trying to draw me under your spell.”

“And you are doing your best to tease me, just as you have during our entire time here. I wonder why?

If I were to guess, I would say you have been employing your advice manual on me.”

It seemed foolish to deny the charge, so Eleanor responded with a careless shrug. “Actually I am.”

“Why? You no longer need help in capturing a husband. You have already captured me.”

She gave him a considering look, debating how honest she should be. “But I have not really captured you, Damon. Our marriage lines are little more than a legal contract.”

He seemed to give that some thought. “Then what is your objective? To drive me mad with frustrated desire so that I will be eager to do your bidding?”

“In part.”

The corner of Damon's mouth twisted. “Perhaps I should read that manual of yours to better understand your methods of seduction.”

Eleanor flashed him a genuine smile. “You most certainly don't need an instruction manual to learn about seduction. You are a renowned expert on the subject.”

“I will take that as a compliment, love. And I will point out that you don't need a fire to warm you when you have me. I could make you hotter than any fire.”

His voice had become a husky murmur, which seriously began to worry Eleanor.

“I expect you could,” she said with a shivery little laugh. “But if this is your attempt to lure me to your bed, I must warn you, you won't succeed.”

His own smile turned lazy. “You would enjoy my bed, Elle, I promise you. Our lovemaking from now on will be far more pleasurable than your first time.”

She had no doubt whatsoever that he could pleasure her. The crackling fire, the potent wine, the sensual sound of rain, had all combined to chase away her chill, but it was Damon himself who had the most profound impact on her. His eyes looked seductive and drowsy in the firelight, which sent a warm ache surging through her body.

With effort, Eleanor tore her gaze away from him and stared into the flickering flames. Damon had awakened her sexuality, had led her to experience her first feelings of power as a woman, and he was rousing those same intense, lustful feelings now. But that was the trouble. Their lust was purely physical. She wanted more from him. Much, much more.

He leaned closer, drawing her attention back to him. “Trust me, Elle. All I care about right now is giving you pleasure.”

Eleanor felt her mouth go dry. She was the one who was supposed to do the seducing, but Damon was taking over her role completely. His smile tantalized, while his voice dropped another octave.

“You have the most glorious eyes. That vivid shade of blue is entrancing.”

His own eyes were dark and wicked, she thought distractedly.

“You have the most luscious body. I would very much like to feel it against me.”

“Damon… that won't happen.”

“No matter,” he said easily. “I can imagine how it would be. I can picture making love to you in every exquisite detail. Would you like to know what I would do, sweetheart? How I would pleasure you?”

Eleanor couldn't reply; she was bereft of words just now.

Damon evidently took her silence for agreement, for lazy passion glowed in his eyes as he continued.

“If I were to make love to you, it would be in a soft bed, unlike our hasty coupling in a balloon gondola. That was remarkable, certainly, but not the ideal setting. First, I would undress you slowly and kiss every inch of your lovely body, starting with your breasts. I would begin by caressing them, coddling them. Then I would lift them to my mouth and suckle your nipples.”

Her toes curled in her slippers at the very thought. She could almost feel the lush pressure of his mouth on her already hard nipples.

“I would make your breasts ache, Elle. They would feel heavy and hot in my hands… And I can envision your response… the soft sounds you make when I suck them.”

So could she. Yet it was a mistake to listen to him, Eleanor warned herself. She knew how persuasive, how sensual Damon could be. But she didn't stop him as his voice went on describing how it would be for them.

“Next I would slide my hand between your thighs and find you wet and ready for me. I would stroke your center with my fingers, till you were whimpering with hunger for me. And then I would set my mouth on you and use my tongue to arouse you even further.”

Eleanor's stomach clenched as she imagined Damon stroking her with his tongue as he'd done before.

“I can hear your gasps of pleasure as I savor your taste. Then when you are half mad with need, I would enter you slowly, prolonging the moment. I would fill you with my cock, Elle, so that we moved together, as if we were one person, so that you couldn't tell when I end and you begin…”

Heat flushed her body, while between her legs desire throbbed. Damon was spinning a web of fascination around her, captivating her with his voice, his eyes. Those dark eyes held a memory of their first time together four days ago, reminding her how incredible it had been between them.

And his recitation was having a similar effect on Damon, Eleanor realized when he parted the folds of his dressing gown. “See what you have done to me, love… My loins are full and aching for you.”

Rising from his groin was the bold evidence of his sexual arousal, long and huge and swollen. She couldn't help staring at that rigid male flesh, remembering how it had felt moving inside her.

Then Damon untied the sash at his waist and shrugged off his dressing gown. When he rose, something hot and molten unfurled in her belly. It was the first time she had seen him entirely naked, and she looked her fill. Firelight sculpted his sensual, strong-boned body… his broad shoulders, his finely muscled chest and taut stomach, his narrow hips, his long, powerful legs.

Damon stood very still, letting her take in every detail, his gaze heated and compelling as he observed her helpless fascination.

If any man could be called beautiful, it was Damon. His chiseled body was perfect, hard and vital, rawly masculine. Eleanor felt a fierce urge to touch him, to caress him. Then her gaze dropped, fixing again on the swirl of dark hair that cradled his hardness. The evidence of his desire stood rigid, flushed, thickly engorged…

Her breath caught in her throat even before he reached out to take her wineglass from her. Setting it on the mantel, he gently grasped her wrists and drew her to her feet.

“D-Damon,” she stammered, her protest husky and uneven.

“Touch me, Elle,” he coaxed, pressing her palms against his bare chest, inviting her hands to explore the hard expanse. “Touching is allowed, sweeting. I am your husband and you are my wife.”

His flesh was smooth and hot; sleek muscles rippled and played beneath satiny skin, and Eleanor couldn't resist doing his bidding.