was supposed to and she turned to him. “I don’t know if I can do this,” she breathed, her agitation plain.
He took her hand and rubbed it across the front of his trousers, so she could feel the breadth and length of his desire. “You have to,” he said, not caring if this was fantasy or reality, knowing why he was here.
She jerked her hand away.
He didn’t move, although he’d quickly scanned the room. “You can’t go anywhere,” he whispered. “I won’t let you.”
Inundated by carnal longing, she drew in a sharp breath. “Because you’re-the captain.” She’d almost said My captain, but caught herself just in time.
He’d heard the minute pause, took note of the altered wording, resolved to change it back again now that he’d found her. But he uttered the expected words in order not to frighten her. “You needn’t worry, my lady. No one will know.”
“Your troopers will know.”
“Not unless I invite them in. Would you like me to?”
“No… no-no.”
He saw the uncertainty in her eyes, heard it in her breathy reply. “Are you sure? They won’t touch you.”
“You said
“I haven’t yet.” His voice turned silken. “Not really.”
Her skittish gaze glanced downward to the bulge in his crotch and her voice when she spoke, was almost inaudible. “There’s more?”
“Invite me in and I’ll show you.”
“You
“In here,” he murmured, touching her mons, slipping his fingers downward, forcing the soft linen of her gown into the moistness of her vulva. “Lift your gown,” he ordered. “I can’t feel you.” His dark eyes held hers. “And I want to.”
“No… no-I couldn’t… I can’t-my family would disown me. I’m betrothed to the local curate.”
His gaze was half-lidded; his fingers buried in her cleft were damp from her wetness. “I won’t tell the curate. He’ll never know.”
She shook her head. “He’ll know. Truly, he will.”
He stroked her gently, the fabric of her nightgown slippery under his fingers. “I’ll be gentle,” he whispered. “You could have lost your virginity riding.” He brushed her mouth lightly with his. “You ride don’t you?”
She quickly nodded, her thighs pressed tightly around his hand, her breath coming in short little pants.
“Lift your gown, my lady… for me.”
Temptation in the wilderness or in a small English hamlet or in a governess’s room under the eaves. Unable to resist, she closed her fingers on the fabric of her gown, bunched the skirt in her hands, and slowly lifted it.
“That’s a good girl,” Simon whispered, stroking the smoothness of her exposed belly. Sliding his hand downward, he nudged her thighs apart and slipped in one finger palm deep. “Ummm… you’re a very good girl. Have you let your curate feel you all wet and juicy like this-have you?”
She shook her head, not meeting his gaze.
“So I’m the first man to touch this?” He stroked her liquid flesh. “I think you could take more than one finger, couldn’t you?” he whispered, probing her slick passage.
She should say no to such cool self-possession; she shouldn’t be so shameless in her need-so insatiable. And if she weren’t aching to feel him deep inside her, she would.
He touched her cheek. “Answer me.”
His dark, seductive gaze further incited the scandalous throbbing between her legs. He was too beautiful. That was the problem. She craved him for his beauty alone. “Yes, yes… yes,” she said, her voice sounding as though it were someone else’s. Someone ignominiously in rut; someone who would have lain with him anywhere.
And when his second finger eased inside, she whimpered and squirmed, the penetration quickening her senses, adding urgency to her carnal longing.
“Am I hurting you?”
The sound of his voice drifted through her seething hysteria, but she couldn’t find the breath to speak.
Her overwrought passions were answer enough; he forced his fingers deeper. At her breathy sigh, he felt her muscles contract, felt the slick lubricant of desire flow more profusely. She was ready for sex, more than ready and without asking permission, he added a third finger. Slowly exerting pressure, he penetrated deeper, stretching the verges of her vulva until his third finger was fully submerged.
She moaned, shuddered, uncontrollable desire vibrating through her body.
He looked up. “Relax, darling…” And when she did, he jammed in a fourth finger.
She gasped, delirium washing over her in heated waves. “I don’t want to play anymore,” she panted, reaching out, stroking his erection. “I want this.”
“Unbutton my trousers and you can have it”
Even through her fevered need, his unruffled calm was grating. Her hand stilled. “It doesn’t matter to you?”
“I didn’t say that.” His smile was wolfish, his fingers moving inside her with deft subtlety. “Indulge me.”
Grabbing his wrist, she arrested his compelling massage. “Since when do you need to be indulged?”
He unclasped her hand from his wrist and withdrew his fingers. “Since I’m paying you five hundred pounds a night,” he said, wiping his fingers on her nightgown.
She slapped his hand away. “Take your money back and leave.”
His gaze met hers. “We shouldn’t have started this,” he said, gruffly, his own feelings impossibly disordered. “But I’m not leaving. I’m going to make love to you. Me, Simon-no games,” his voice deepened, “whether you want it or not, although I think you do.”
She frowned.
“You know I’m right.”
She didn’t answer for a very long time. “I don’t want to feel what I’m feeling,” she said, ill-tempered and sulky. “Breathless with need, practically crazed.”
“I know.” His emotions in turmoil, he understood.
“I don’t think you do. I think this is another night with another woman in a long list of similar nights for you.”
“No,” he said, thinking of the days he’d spent looking for her, of the years she’d been abroad without him-with other men. “You’re wrong. This isn’t the same.”
There was another long pause. She sighed, grimaced, finally spoke. “You still have to observe-”
“Your rules? Agreed.”
She gazed at him with patent discontent. “I’m still not sure why you’re here or why I’m allowing this.” She blew air through her teeth.
His smile was tight. “Maybe we both are.” Un-trammeled behavior wasn’t unusual in his life; this irrepressible craving was. “Why don’t we both stop analyzing?” he murmured. “I’m going to undress you because I want to, not for any other reason, and you’re going to let me.” Taking her hand, he began to draw her to the bed.
“Carpe diem,” she said, under her breath.
“I suppose,” he muttered. “Probably,” he added. His dark brows drew into a faint frown, and he forcibly tamped down the discontent that always came with too much speculation on Caro’s past. Having reached the bed, he turned to her, unbuttoned her nightgown in silence, pulled it over her head and pointed at the bed.
There was a certain irony in his reluctant seduction that made her smile. “I suppose since you’re paying me, I have to do what I’m told.”
“It would be a welcome change,” he grumbled.
“Oh, dear, was I supposed to be docile and amenable?” she purred, throwing him a look over her shoulder as she climbed into her narrow bed.
He snorted. “That I’d like to see.” Stripping off his trousers and undershorts in the same businesslike manner, he left them where they fell.
“I know what I’d like to see,” she murmured.
He swung back at the seductive whisper.
And his thick upthrust penis swayed in provocative allure. “Ummm… you’re going to hurt me with that great
