Flawless (31 page)

“I . . .” She wiggled the second candle into its holder and joined him in the middle of the room. “I would prefer . . . choices.”

“Marmalade or butter? Beef or lamb?”

“Trifle or fruit. Exactly.”

He touched her cheek, stroking from the soft crest to the hollow below. Such a strong, lovely creature existed nowhere else in the world. What he wouldn’t do for this woman. The possibilities tightened a vise where his lungs had been. “Very well. Choices it is.”

“Where do we begin?”

“With me.”

Her smile flashed. The derisive one. “Naturally.”

“Would you like me clothed or naked?” He loved how her lips parted in reflexive shock—just before she licked them. “Do you want me completely nude? You can see me, touch my skin, kiss me where you choose. Or shall I undo my trousers and have you in my evening suit?”

“Naked.”

He nodded, affecting a businesslike manner. “Will you do the honors or me?”

“You.”

“Will you watch me?”

“Yes.”

Her eyes were wide and luminous. Miles wanted to sink into them, into her, but he had a task to attend. If he could manage. She was worth the effort of traipsing across Africa and learning what he could about mining and drill bits. Offering the use of his body for her exclusive pleasure should be nothing by comparison. Yet his pulse thundered and his breath burned. She was going to break him apart, and he was her willing victim.

He pinched the ends of his silken ascot and pulled. The first step to becoming entirely hers.

Viv backed against the bedpost, her hands behind her, gripping it fiercely, but she never looked away as Miles disrobed. Coat, waistcoat, shirt—only her flared nostrils and intent stare gave away her desire as he bared his chest. He kicked off his shoes, then stripped off his socks, trousers, underclothes.

He was breathing rapidly. Rarely, if ever, had he felt so exposed, especially when her heavy-lidded gaze widened as she caught sight of his erection. No matter her reassurances, Viv could walk out and leave him naked, aroused, greedy. In such a scenario he didn’t trust himself not to beg. She’d be the end of him if she ever made that discovery.

“Now you,” he rasped, his body hot despite skin bared to the cool bedroom air. “Naked or clothed?”

Viv was sucking on the tip of her index finger. “That’s an interesting mental picture, is it not? You, ah, as you are—and me still dressed.”

“Interesting? Or arousing?”

“Both. It’s a matter of power, I should think. The woman is usually nude.”

“Vulnerable.”

“Exactly.” She toed off her slippers. “But I want to breathe. Help me out of my gown.”

Miles met her at the bedpost. She could shift her hand and touch his pleading cock. “Quickly or slowly?”

“Must every aspect have choice?”

He dared to slide his palm up her sleek arm. “To do it properly.”

“Slowly, then,” she said. “Very slowly.”

“And may I kiss your skin as I reveal it to the light?”

Viv lifted her hands and gracefully unpinned her hair. With a few quick flicks of her wrist, she tossed her head. Silken gold streamed around her shoulders. Miles inhaled her rosy scent.

“That strikes me as what
you
want,” she said. “Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“I thought this was about what I want.”

He swallowed. “It is.”

Viv trailed a finger down her neck, then to her bust line, just inside the lacey edge. Miles imagined taking that same journey with his tongue and groaned.

“All this time,” she said, her voice as dark and sweet as wine, “you’ve done your level best to make me desperate. Did you know that? You wore me down until all I could do was
need
.”

She laid both palms flat along his flanks, her fingers splayed. Miles couldn’t help it: he thrust. But his rigid shaft didn’t find the hot slickness he craved—only cool, crisp silk.

“Viv, what are you doing?”

“I never saw that you were just as desperate.”

She pushed against his chest and stepped clear of him. As if kicked by a horse, he couldn’t take a breath. “Vivie?”

“Lie down.”

“What?”

“You heard me, but I’ll say it again. Lie down.”

Miles relaxed the hands he’d balled into fists. He lay down on the bed, as if condemned prisoners facing firing squads now did so from a horizontal position. His body remained throbbing and hard, his cock upthrust and demonstrating even less pride than he did.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she said.

His heart thudded out an extra beat. She was going to leave him. She was going to walk out—her hair unbound but her gown still clinging to her perfect curves—and Miles was going to crumple. He’d gambled and he was going to lose everything.

Somewhere between their waltz and
the door to Miles’s bedroom, Viv had won the hand. After all, she’d never witnessed a more erotic sight. Miles lay sideways on the bed with his hands behind his head. His legs dropped over the side, bent at the knee—legs so long that the soles of his feet rested flat on the floor. He wiggled his toes as if impatient.

Instead of turning toward the door, she joined him at the bed.

“That is allowed, isn’t it? Changing my mind?”

His jaw muscles bunched. “Yes,” he ground out.

“Good. Because I’ve decided to leave my gown on after all.”

The tension eased from his face. She was intimidated, yes, but she was going through with this. What more glorious challenge had she ever faced? Not only did the notion of returning to her room strike her as cowardly, it smacked of
genuine stubbornness. The relief he’d shown upon hearing her reassurances helped remind her that she wasn’t alone in this risk.

He needs me.

But oh, how her heart guttered and raced. And breathing . . . she’d catch her breath sometime after dawn.

With a daring that was as unfamiliar as it was liberating, Viv slowly lifted her skirts until she grasped the waistband of her drawers. She kept her eyes on Miles’ss mouth the whole time. Such a decadent thing, his lower lip—masculine in its shape and surety, but soft, full, even beautiful.

She remembered that night, so long ago, when Miles had seduced her with depraved words before kissing between her thighs. The pleasure had been swift and fiery. Her climax had overtaken her so quickly, almost as soon as it began. Afterward, she couldn’t look at his mouth for weeks, ashamed of her behavior. And wanting it again.

But right then, free of her damp cotton drawers, Viv knew what she craved.

The trick would be asking for it.

She clamped her knees along the outsides of Miles’s spread-eagled legs. He pressed back, challenging her, smiling that knowing smile. The taut muscles of his thighs bunched. His skin was golden in the lamplight, dusted with hair as dark as his eyes. And all the while his thick, proud erection stretched toward his belly button.

He gave a little thrust, his buttocks barely contracting.

His arrogance
always
returned. The only way she’d found to counter it was to take him by surprise. He expected her
shyness, just as he expected that her desire would win out. How much more conceited could one man be?

No matter that it was true.

But when she spoke her desire aloud, wielding it like a weapon, she could level him.

“What, no more choices?” she asked.

“This position didn’t strike me as one with too many options.”

“No?” She leaned over, permitting a generous view of her cleavage. “You simply expect me to hike my skirts and climb aboard?”

“I wouldn’t say no.”

“Of course not.” Viv laid her hands on either side of his nipples and stroked all the way down, slowly, her fingers rigid, until she reached his thighs.

“Again,” he said, breathless.

“Oh, but this isn’t about you, remember?”

“Viv.”

She licked her upper lip as if swiping away a last bit of cream. “Very well.”

With her nails this time, she repeated the long, languorous caress. The rounded flesh of his pectorals gave way to the thump, thump, thump of each rib. She watched, fascinated, as his stomach muscles contracted, followed by another small thrust of his pelvis. Down past his groin, scraping his outer hips, she didn’t stop until she was clawing deep into the hard bulk of his lean thighs. He’d always been overwhelming. Some combination of character and carriage made him larger than life.

And at that moment, he belonged entirely to her.

Viv slowly wrapped her hand around his erection. “Choices, Miles?” She squeezed.

He gasped. His hips pulsed off the bed. “Fuck me or kill me.”

“No, that’s not the way of it.” She leaned near enough to rub her lacy décolletage up the length of his legs, until her mouth hovered above one flat, dark nipple. She licked. Then she repeated her full body exploration, trailing her tongue down to the thin, satiny skin between his belly and his groin. Knowing how tender that swath of skin was on her own body, she kissed him again, mouth open, then sucked.

He grabbed the back of her head.

Viv lifted and pushed him away. “Don’t touch.”

“You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Yes.”

“Damn it, Vivie.” But to his credit, he grabbed two handfuls of royal blue duvet instead of her unbound hair.

“Tell me you aren’t enjoying yourself. “ Her mouth was within inches of the heavy erection she still petted and stroked. Nothing smelled the way Miles did—the masculine salt of his arousal. Nothing grabbed at her deepest, most shocking urges like that primal scent. “Tell me this isn’t what you wanted.”

He didn’t reply with words, only a guttural growl of frustration. He still wore a smile; it simply wasn’t so smug now.

“I think,” she said, “my next choice should be about kissing. Don’t you?” If he could still feel something so subtle, he’d feel her breath along his hot shaft. “So many choices. Who
should kiss whom? And where? And how deeply? How am I to decide?” With a quick flick she touched her tongue to his swollen head. “Come now, use that clever mind of yours.”

“In my mind, I’m already inside of you.”

“Concentrate, Miles. Kisses.”

“You kissing me. There. Kiss me there.”

“That’s not a choice,” she said, her voice throaty and raw. “That’s a command.”

She shifted so that her wet center straddled one of his muscular thighs. Maybe leaving her dress on had been a mistake. Her corset left her even more light-headed. She felt like a sleepwalker acting out a potent dream.

“Not so easy, is it?” she asked.

“What?”

“Giving up control. You like it, no matter your penchant for gambling.”

He thrashed his head to one side. “It’s just a game.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It is. Have you ever done what you’re taunting me with right now? Certainly not with me.”

“Doesn’t mean my thoughts never strayed.” She petted his thick shaft, then rubbed up and down with a rhythm that he quickly matched, hips gyrating. “But you’ve said it from the start. This is about trust. You have to believe I’m here to give you pleasure. And I have to believe you won’t use my wanton impulses as future ammunition.”

“Do it, Vivie.”

“Because I want to,” she whispered, smiling softly. “Not because you told me to.”

She took him into her mouth.

Miles cried out. His hips lifted. His thigh ground between her legs.

Viv had transformed into another person—maybe no person at all, but rather some creature that amused herself by torturing naked men.

Not just any man, though. This one. This one whose shaft pressed into her mouth, whose essence salted her tongue as she swirled and licked. Her heart slammed against her ribs and filled her ears with a fast cadence. As her adversary more often than her lover, Miles had never engendered confidence enough to act on such a bold intimacy. But now she reveled in the task. He groaned with every touch of her tongue, every deep plunge that pressed his hard rod deeper, thrusting even as she bobbed her head. The power of taking so much of him into her body, in this new and wholly erotic way, was even more heady than his kisses.

Miles had given up on the duvet. Instead his hands found her hair. He guided her strokes, silently instructing her on this delicate art. Then clever fingers edged beneath the border of her gown, finding flesh, finding her nipples, rolling them, tugging. Viv sucked hard to remind him who was in charge. He didn’t stop. In fact he pulsed his thigh between her legs in what could only be a deliberate torment.

She withdrew with a laugh, then made a grand show of wiping her mouth and adjusting her bodice. Miles looked absolutely murderous. His hands clenched and opened, useless at his sides. The leashed potency of her man stretched out before her, waiting for her, aching for her, leveled the
scales of power between them. She needed him, but oh how he needed her, too.

“I think I got that all wrong,” she said. “You’re supposed to be kissing me.”

“Where?”

If he thought that was going to shock her, he hadn’t been paying attention to the last half hour. Viv yanked yards of splendid red silk above her knees and crawled onto the bed. Straddling him at the waist, she bent low and licked the blunt, roughened contours of his chin.

“First here,” she said, touching her lower lip. Then she stroked her thumb along his. He caught the pad between his teeth and suckled. His hands found her naked backside and began kneading sensual circles.

God, he was handsome. Her heart flipped over just watching him. The cut of his cheekbones, the slope of his brow, the piercing beauty of his dark brown eyes. She touched his temple, feathering back hair that had turned gold, as if the sun needed to make him more irresistible.

Rather than wait for Miles to comply, she retrieved her thumb from between his lips and dove into a deep, probing kiss—unleashing all of her frustrations.

When air and time abandoned her, she pulled up and took a deep, shuddering breath. “No. That’s not it either. See how badly I’ve managed this?”

“Woman, I am going to make you suffer for this.”