Everything Forbidden (7 page)

He held her gaze for a long, silent moment. Then he turned sideways and motioned to the door. “You are no prisoner, Miranda. If you cannot live up to the terms of our bargain, you’re free to leave. But doing so nullifies the agreement. All of it.”

Miranda stared at the door, just a few feet away. It represented both freedom and a whole different prison. By walking out, she would sentence her family to ruin. And worse, she would never explore the pleasures Ethan offered her. They might frighten her, but a life lived with only dull attraction terrified her even more.

“What will you do?” he asked softly.

She glanced at him. He didn’t look like he gave a damn what she did. In fact, his smirk led her to think that he expected her to run like a ninny. That expression only strengthened her resolve even further.

“I’ll stay,” she whispered. “I’ll hold up my part of our agreement.”

Two feelings rushed through Ethan when Miranda spoke those trembling words. Both were equally disturbing. On one hand, he couldn’t help but be impressed by her wobbling strength. Any other innocent facing the kind of debauchery he was tempting her with would likely flee without a backward glance. And yet Miranda stared at him with a power in her stare that hit him straight in the groin and made his erection even harder.

The other feeling was worse. Relief. He was
relieved
that she wasn’t going to turn back on their bargain. Like he actually cared about her.

That wasn’t possible. He had never cared about the women in his bed beyond a vague interest. He never knew about their pasts or their dreams or their goals. He didn’t want to. He gave them pleasure, but that was as close as he cared to grow to them. One woman was interchangeable with the other, so it didn’t really matter.

Yet, with Miranda, he didn’t just want a warm body in his bed. He wanted her. Just her. At least for now. But the feeling would fade. It had to.

He folded his arms and looked her up and down. He took in the gown she wore, which was too high collared, too long sleeved. Too much fabric, too many frills. A woman like her should be dressing with provocative simplicity. He would love to see her in a gown that clung to her curves. Perhaps without anything beneath it.

Stifling a groan, Ethan mused, “You’re wearing too many layers. I want you to remove your clothing.”

Miranda stiffened a fraction, but then she acquiesced, lifting
her hands to the buttons that fastened the front of her gown. As she slipped the first two free quickly, he shook his head.

“No. Slowly. I want to see you reveal yourself inch by inch. Seeing you undress is a pleasure I want to indulge in.”

She hesitated, looking at him with the expression of a scared little rabbit. Her gaze flitted to the door behind him a second time, but she made no move toward freedom. Finally, she pressed her fingers down to the next button of her gown and flicked it open. Her hands shook as she spread the fabric apart, revealing a few scant inches of pale flesh.

Ethan licked his lips as he backed toward a chair beside the fire. He took his place, then motioned for her to continue.

Miranda moved toward him, her hips twitching as she popped the next button. Her expression was still filled with terror, but her body seemed to know what to do, even if those actions revolted against what her mind and propriety said was right. Somehow that made him want her all the more. He could teach her to listen to her body’s desires over the voices that whispered to her not to be naughty, not to be passionate.

With a shiver, she opened the last button and spread the fabric wide, revealing an expanse of bare skin and the beginnings of a worn, cotton chemise. Ethan frowned. Clearly the family’s financial troubles were deep, since both times Miranda had undressed for him, she had revealed old, threadbare undergarments. That was something he would have to remedy.

“Turn around,” he ordered. “And slip your dress off. Slowly.”

Miranda hesitated before she turned her back to him. He expected her to drop the gown at her feet in one motion, but instead she peered over her shoulder at him. Their eyes met and
he saw a little flame of desire in the bright blue. As uncomfortable as putting on a show of stripping was to Miranda, on some dark, hidden level, she liked it. She liked revealing herself to him, layer by layer.

His cock stirred.

“Take it off,” he demanded quietly.

She slipped the gown off one shoulder, sliding it down her arm at a smooth, slow pace. Ethan straightened up, staring as she pulled her arm free while holding the bodice of her gown against her chest. With her opposite hand, she freed her other arm at the same slow pace.

Her gaze never left his face, bright eyes flickering in the firelight as she stared at him over her shoulder. Then she let the gown go and it dropped around her waist. She hooked her thumbs around the waistline and gave a little shimmy of her hips.

The fabric slipped over her body and she released her thumbs, letting it drop around her feet.

Ethan wet his suddenly dry lips. Miranda’s chemise was worn, but it had its benefits. For one, it was too small and clung to her body, showing every single curve of her hips. It was also too short, probably the hem had been mended more than once. But that meant that it fell just to the top of her thighs, revealing the bottom swell of her backside.

“Turn around,” he croaked, shocked by how shaky his voice was. How quickly his heart was beating. How hard his cock was and he hadn’t even touched her yet. His body was out of control, wild and tense.

Miranda stepped away from her gown and kicked it aside before she followed his order and faced him. Her nipples were hard against the cotton, perfectly outlined by the firelight. The fabric was so worn that he could see the rosy red color through the white. God, he wanted to lick her, suckle her until she moaned
and cried out. He was ready to come out of the chair, he was so on edge, so hard and heavy and ready.

Instead, he examined her further. The chemise clung to her stomach and thighs. He could even see the dark shadow of downy hair between her legs through the stretched material. The sight nearly drove him wild, making his cock twitch and his blood burn hot.

“Take it off,” he murmured.

Miranda arched a brow and a wicked power came into her stare. “How, Ethan? You have to tell me what you want for me to please you properly.”

Suddenly he was in no mood for a show anymore. He just wanted her naked. He wanted her beneath him. Over him. Around him. He wanted her panting and sweaty. He wanted her whimpering and clinging. He just wanted her.

“What would please me is to have that off. Remove it, whatever way is quickest,” he growled.

“You just cannot make up your mind.” she said softly, with a hint of nervous laughter to her voice. “Remove it slowly, remove it quickly…”

Ethan surged to his feet and Miranda drew back two steps, eyes widening.

“Very well,” she said, raising a hand to ward him off.

She grasped the edge of the chemise and peeled upward, rolling the tight fabric over her hips, her stomach, her breasts and finally she tugged it over her head and let it drop to the floor near her discarded dress.

Ethan stared, unable to keep from showing all his interest on his face. God, she was lovely. Long, flowing limbs, smooth, soft
skin…it was like she had been built to his every desire, his every fantasy.

He wanted to touch her. To lock her legs around his waist and rut with her right there on the hard floor. That wasn’t like him. Slow seduction and drawn out pleasure had always been his preferred manner. That quiet building of desire was a way of ensuring his partners were at
his
mercy, not the other way around.

It could be no different with this woman. If he lost control and took her like an animal in heat, he would give her far too much power. Even if Miranda was too innocent to know what to do with it, that wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. He had to remain calm, focused, detached.

He couldn’t do that by touching her. Not now when he felt so close to explosion.

“Go to the bed,” he whispered, his voice rough.

A visible shiver wracked Miranda and her gaze shifted away from him to the big bed against the far wall. He’d seen the way she looked at it earlier. Seen the fantasies and questions about what he would do to her slip through her mind like she had spoken them aloud.

He shifted, cock throbbing in time to his racing pulse.

“Go,” he repeated.

She did as she’d been told, crossing the room to the empty bed like a woman condemned. When she reached the foot, she held out a shaking hand and brushed her fingertips along the velvet coverlet. Ethan swallowed as she let out a little sigh. She was completely attuned to sensation. Things like the brush of velvet, the swish of cotton, the stroke of silk…they could be made tools in his seduction.

He filed the information away for later and said, “Climb up.”

She cast a quick glance over her shoulder before she stepped onto the small staircase beside the bed. As she crawled onto the mattress, he caught a brief glimpse of her sex as her thighs parted. It glistened in the soft glow of the firelight, already wet with desire. It wouldn’t take much to put her over the edge.

“Lie back on the pillows and spread your legs,” he ordered as he came to the foot of the bed. His fists gripped the footrest and he clung tight to keep from throwing himself on top of her and having her without preamble.

Miranda blushed, but didn’t hesitate to crook her knees and part her thighs. Now he had a full view of her swollen lips, her hard little clit, the wet slit that was begging to be filled with every motion of her body.

“Touch yourself.”

Miranda sat up in surprise and stared at him. “What?”

His fingers tightened on the footrest. “You heard me perfectly well. I said I want you to touch yourself. Pleasure yourself. You
have
done this before, haven’t you?”

He expected her to say no. Ladies of her rank were almost always told that their bodies were meant for a man’s use and that purpose only. Stupid mothers and spinster governesses told young ladies never to tend to their own desires. That sex was a duty, much like seeing to the day’s menus in a great house. Necessary, but not especially pleasant.

“Yes, I have.” Miranda turned her face away as heat darkened her cheeks.

“You have?” he repeated, shocked by her unexpected answer.

His erection was so hard now, he felt like he could bang nails
with it. He couldn’t remember ever being so aroused before. A strange realization considering just what kind of woman he was with.

She nodded, her gaze still focused on any place but his face.

“Show me,” he groaned. “I want to see you pleasure yourself.”

Miranda’s breath came in little shivering gulps as she lay perfectly still for a long, silent moment. Ethan almost thought he had finally pushed her too far and that she would run, but just as he was about to remind her of her precarious position, her clenched fists opened and she slid one hand down to rest on her flat stomach.

Her slender fingers brushed her skin, stroking gently in a downward motion. Lower and lower, inch by inch, as Ethan clenched the footboard harder and harder. He leaned in, staring as her hand stroked her thigh, smoothing the flesh there before she covered her sex with the flat of her palm.

Miranda held still again for a brief moment, panting quietly. Ethan broke his stare from her hand to look at her face and found that she no longer looked embarrassed, but aroused. She stared at him, watching his reaction as she cupped herself. When their eyes met, she held his stare evenly, then lowered her lids and moaned.

Ethan’s eyes shot down and he saw that she’d begun to stroke over her pussy. She parted the folds of slick flesh, massaging every one in slow, seductive time. The pads of her fingers swirled over her damp skin, opening and stimulating herself. She sighed as her body relaxed, growing wetter at the seeking touch of her fingertips.

Her clit swelled as she continued to stroke, darkening as it
demanded her attention. She brushed over it lightly and sucked in a sharp breath, but then she skittered away. Ethan smiled. She was teasing herself, drawing her pleasure out until she could no longer bear it. That meant she enjoyed this exercise, didn’t just do it to relieve her needs.

Damn, but there was a wild vixen trapped inside the shell of this sheltered young lady. A woman of fire and passion and heat. Ethan wanted to draw her out, crush the shell, leave Miranda with nothing but her desires. Leave her wanting and willing.

But as much as he longed to do just that right now, he held back. Her passion was almost overpowering and if he tried to harness it now, it might sweep them both away. He had to be patient. He had all summer to revel in her awakening. To mold her. To introduce her to every vice in his repertoire and ruin her for regular, boring men and regular, boring sex forever.

He almost moaned with the thought. It was going to be so fucking good.

Miranda’s back arched as her fingers worked in earnest. She drove her forefinger inside her clenching body while she ground her thumb down on her clit. Moans erupted from her throat as her hips thrust and a slash of pink color arose on her chest.

She wailed out her release, shaking and quivering, her head moving back and forth on the pillow as she came. Then the tremors eased and her body relaxed. Her eyes came open.

When she looked at Ethan, it was almost too much. With a growl, he released the footboard and stalked toward her.

Miranda’s breath came in uncontrollable gasps as her aching body began a slow descent from the utter pleasure of release.
She had indulged in such activities before, alone in her bed, especially after she watched Ethan with his paramours and her body was empty and wanting. But her experiences had never been like this one.

Alone, she had been ashamed of her furtive actions. In her mind, she could always hear the echo of other’s voices, telling her to never let her body come to shame. To never
want
, to never
need
. Her attempts at self pleasure had been furtive, under the covers, through her chemise.

But this was totally different. Touching herself like this, spread out naked on Ethan’s bed of sinful pleasures, while he stood watching her…that had been earth shattering. At first she had been embarrassed, yes. But when she saw just how much her desire moved him, it had made her forget her self-consciousness and the rules others had instilled in her. Ethan would never judge her harshly for her desires and right now Ethan was all that mattered.

Feeling and sensation had taken over the moment she surrendered her fears and the explosion she’d experienced was almost as powerful as the one she’d felt when Ethan was buried deep within her body a few days before.

Almost
.

She looked up to find him staring at her, but something in his gaze had shifted. Ethan was dangerous now. And…out of control.

He was out of control.
She
had done that to him with her little show. A surge or triumph rushed through her, tinged with hope. Perhaps she wasn’t entirely out of her element after all.

Ethan let go of the footboard he’d been gripping and started
around the bed. All Miranda’s thoughts of control fled instantly. In her rush of victory, she had forgotten that an out of control man was often a hazardous man. From the look in his eyes, all Ethan wanted to do was pound into her, take her, claim her.

She shivered as he reached for her, ready for an animalistic, demanding touch. But despite the glow of passion in his dark eyes, when he cupped her shoulders, his fingers were gentle. With a tug, he moved her further down on the pillows and flipped the coverlet around her until her body was wrapped in velvet heaven.

He said nothing as he moved to the center of the room where all this had begun. He caught her long forgotten wineglass in one hand and downed the remaining liquid in a gulp, then poured her a fresh glass.

“Here, drink this,” he said, his voice low and rough as he returned to the bed, arm outstretched. “I’ll have food brought. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Miranda looked at the little clock on the mantel and was surprised by how much time had passed since she left home. It was past the luncheon hour. She had been too nervous to eat breakfast, and even if she hadn’t been, that meal was one she’d taken to skipping to scrimp funds. Her stomach rumbled softly at the mention of food.

“But, don’t you—” she began, than cut herself off as heat flooded her cheeks.

“Want to fill your body with mine and make you scream?” Ethan asked benignly as he went to the door and rang for a servant.

“Yes,” Miranda said, forcing herself not to look away. If he
was going to be so blunt, she couldn’t be missish in response.

He didn’t reply as a servant appeared at the inner door. Miranda couldn’t see the person, but the two talked for a moment before Ethan shut the door and returned to the bed. He perched next to her and looked down into her eyes. His stare was intense, like he was trying to read her character, delve into her soul and see her secrets.

She turned away instinctively, unwilling to allow such an intimacy. Ethan growled his displeasure a moment before he bracketed one hand on either side of her head. He leaned over her, his face mere inches from her own. Hot breath stirred her cheek as he cupped her chin and turned it back to look at him. Their noses were an inch apart, his lips were delectably close. But he didn’t lean in to kiss her. He didn’t touch her at all.

“Miranda, there is nothing I would rather do than fuck you.” She flinched at his bluntness and Ethan’s frown darkened. “Don’t recoil from that word. It is exactly what I want. I don’t want to make love to you like a gentleman. I want to spread you wide and pound into you. I want to tie you down and make you beg. I want to lick every inch of your body until you’re so wet with need that I almost slide out of you on every damned stroke. That is
fucking
and you shouldn’t be afraid of it. It’s what you were built for, perhaps more than any woman I’ve ever met.”

Miranda could hardly breathe through the heat that suddenly coursed between them. Her body, still wet from the teasing and pleasure it had been given earlier, sparked to life at his frank, dark words. They should have frightened her, but instead they excited her.

“Then why won’t you?” she asked, hating how her voice shook.

He hesitated, but then he pulled away, sitting up so she was no longer trapped. It should have been a relief, but it was a disappointment instead.

“You’re not ready for that yet. You hardly understand your own sensuality, you’re not anywhere close to accepting mine.” He leaned back against his hands and smiled, wicked and filled with promise. “So, for a little while I’ll hold back. The waiting will make everything else all the better.”

Now it was her turn to frown. As much as she couldn’t admit it out loud, she didn’t
want
to wait. She wanted him to do all the things he had described as “fucking.”

“But—”