How To Host a Seduction (21 page)

Freeing herself from the circle of fabric, she stretched until her toes wiggled against his shoe.

The contact snapped him out of his daze. “You're not a pod person, are you?”

Ellen chuckled. “I'm not a pod person, Christopher.”

“You do realize you're sitting practically naked in the middle of Bayou Doré, don't you?”

Her lashes fluttered open and she speared him with a sparkling gaze. “The real question is, have you noticed?”

“With both eyes and a few body parts.”

“A few?”

“Mmm-hmm. My heart's pounding and my mouth is as dry as the sand on that island over there. And there's another body part just straining to make an appearance—”

“Your mouth is dry? I was hoping to make you drool.” Letting her thighs drift apart, she aimed a vision of her barely covered sex his way.

With growing amazement Christopher watched her fingers glide slowly down the expanse of her stomach, along the juncture of her thighs, brushing aside the scrap of fabric and zeroing in on… Oh man, every drop of blood plummeted to his crotch so fast he felt dizzy.

When she rolled her fingertips in a suggestive motion that must have felt very good, judging by the way she shivered, Christopher knew he'd rowed them through a tear in the space-time continuum straight into the Twilight Zone. He'd recognized Ellen's potential for passion, but he'd had no idea how she would effect him when she finally let her guard down.

For one split second he relaxed his grip on an oar, accidentally allowed it to slip away with a barely discernible splash. He spared it only a parting glance and tightened his grip on the other oar before it got away, too.

“You asked me what I'd write in my diary about you,” Ellen said silkily. “Lennon and I brainstormed a scene for her latest book…it's about a Regency smuggler with a boat. It got me thinking about how sexy it would be to make love outside, beneath the stars. I'm not going to stop myself tonight.”

Ellen definitely wasn't playing by the rules right now,
and if she wanted to take a cruise on the wild side, Christopher was happy to row the boat.

“Not scared of the gators, love?”

Reaching behind her, she gifted him with a breathtaking display of toned skin as she dragged something from her purse.

A bag of marshmallows?

She must have recognized his confusion because she explained. “They're for the gators.”

“You brought marshmallows for the gators?”

“I read they liked them.”

Bayou tour boats let their passengers toss marshmallows overboard, but he suspected she was thinking more along the lines of feeding an alligator as if it were a duck. He refrained from comment, unwilling to burst his urban princess's bubble. Not when he had the perfect opportunity to play her hero.

Pulling in the remaining oar, he scrambled to his knees and palmed her breasts. “I'll wrestle the gators for you, love.”

Ellen arched her back and leaned into his touch, with an unfamiliar boldness that made his whole body tense. Although he knew they were far enough from the plantation that not even Lennon and Josh on the third floor could see them through the cover of trees and darkness, he found Ellen's sudden daring more exciting than he could have imagined.

The night was alive around them, filled with echoing sounds and sultry air that caressed them as gently as he caressed her breast with his mouth.

The fine silk of her see-through garment was nothing more than a whisper separating flesh from flesh as he swirled his tongue around a rigid peak, drew her inside his hot mouth.

She sighed, leaned forward enough to kiss the top of his head. It was a simple gesture, but one that conveyed all the tenderness in the world, one that told him he'd made more progress in winning Ellen's heart than he'd dared to hope.

Christopher wanted to drag her into his arms, prove to her through touch that she'd made the right choice, but the logistics were impossible. This seduction could go no farther than steamy kisses and foreplay until he brought them to the shore again.

But steamy kisses and foreplay sounded right just now.

Ellen slipped her hands into his hair, down along his neck and over his shoulders. She sighed, a soft sound that echoed through the night, through him, made him hope she'd finally recognized the truth.

They belonged together. They could find a balance between playing it safe and breaking the rules.

If only she'd let herself believe in them.

He'd use every trick in the book to convince her.

Rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, he smiled when she squirmed, scooted forward on the bench to press her breasts into his hands. He continued smiling while trailing his mouth upward, tasting, exploring her neck in a way he hadn't thought to when her hair had been long.

He made his way all the way up to her delicate, very sensitive ear…and exhaled. Her breath hitched audibly, her breasts rose and fell beneath his hands.

Then she tipped her face to his, brushed her lips across his. “I love you, Christopher.”

Her words filtered through him, blocking out all the night sounds, stunning in their intensity, in their honesty.

She loved him.

He'd known it, but knowing was so different from
knowing she knew it, worlds away from hearing her admit it and having her prove it by stripping in a boat in the middle of the bayou to arouse him.

She loved him.

“I know.”

He claimed her mouth in a kiss that proved he'd never doubted her love for an instant. No matter how much she'd denied him, and herself, no matter how far she'd run, no matter how hard she'd fought, he loved her and had believed she loved him.

Christopher kissed her with an urgency he could barely control. She'd thrown caution to the wind—for a little while, at least—and seemed to be testing her limits, their passion. He wanted nothing more than to help her explore.

His hands restlessly kneaded her breasts, itched to coax those soft sighs from her lips. He wanted to plunge deep inside her, prove that what they shared was unique, worth believing in.

But he'd already done a thorough job of exploring what terrain he could.

“Christopher, you've got to get us to the island.” Her voice was breathless, just the right combination of urgency and need to make his heartbeat stumble over itself.

With a final flick of his tongue against her kiss-swollen lips, he sat back. “To the island, hmm?”

“Anywhere we can make love will work.”

He recognized the desire in her beautiful face, desire she didn't hide. Touched, he lifted his hand to her cheek, was rewarded when her lashes fluttered shut over those incredible eyes and she pressed her cheek into his palm as though she longed for his touch.

She loved him.

“This boat won't work, love?” he said softly. “Afraid
we'll capsize and get eaten by the gators? I thought you brought marshmallows.”

Her eyes opened, her gaze alight with golden sparks, with pleasure. “I don't think marshmallows will work if we're in the water. I nicked myself in the shower this morning so I'll probably smell like a midnight snack.”

“I'd eat you over a marshmallow any day.”

Her smile made his heart pound harder, and he couldn't help but be amazed by the excitement building between them.

Ellen wasn't holding back. She'd given over to the moment, given over to
him,
and he wasn't about to miss a second of this remarkable transformation.

Unfortunately, the consequences of taking his attention off the boat had translated into their drifting off course. He had to work hard with only one oar to get to the island, but the tender expression on Ellen's face promised he'd be well rewarded.

The gazebo was in a sorry state of disrepair. Though it had been restored periodically throughout its history—even rebuilt once after a hurricane—the previous owners of Félicie Allée hadn't wanted the liability of shuttling guests to and from the island to see a crumbling structure that while historical, wasn't particularly significant.

“This what you had in mind?” he asked, extending his hand to Ellen to help her climb out of the boat.

She reached for her bag and then swept her gaze over the island that wasn't much larger than Félicie Allée from one shore to the other.

“It'll do,” she said.

But the wooden steps had rotted in places, and Christopher didn't trust them to support even Ellen's weight.

“Here, let me.” Grabbing her around the waist, he hoisted her over the steps onto the solid stone foundation.

She reached down, took his hand and helped him launch himself up, too.

“Sure you don't want to put a border of marshmallows around the perimeter so the gators will have something to eat before they get to us?” he suggested.

“Silly man. I think we'll be quite safe up here.” But her bravado was exactly that, because she darted a glance around, as if having second thoughts. “Don't you?”

“Very safe. I told you I'd protect you. Trust me.”

“I do.”

He slid her bag down her shoulder and dropped it onto the ground, moving all evidence of marshmallows and alligators out of sight. Ellen wound her arms around his waist and nuzzled against him, every barely clad inch of her long curves making him long to get naked.

But she clearly had her own agenda for what was going to happen next, because she pulled his shirt up, forced him to lift his arms to help her drag it over his head. It landed on top of her bag. The night air hit his bare skin in a burst of moist heat that was nothing compared to the sight of Ellen dropping down to her knees, taking his shorts along with her.

He barely had time to savor the sight of her dark head poised against his crotch or even to register the fact that she
really
wasn't playing by the rules tonight, before she left his shorts around his ankles and zeroed in on his erection.

She drew him inside her mouth with one long wet pull.

Christopher's hips buck hard. His moan echoed through the night, a strangled sound that frightened whatever wildlife had been slumbering in the branches overhead, judging by the rapid fluttering of wings and rustling leaves that startled the quiet.

Ellen didn't seem to notice, or care. She had a lip-lock
on him that was coiling his muscles so tight that the lightest brush of her soft hair against his thigh made him shake.

Her fingers sliding beneath his balls did a lot more than make him shake. He full-fledged rocked this time, driving his erection into her hot satin mouth.

Ellen was in control of herself, and of him. She weighted him in her palm, fondled him with her gentle fingers, just the right amount of pressure to earn another strangled gasp.

He should stop her, and soon. There was no way in hell he would last long under this sort of determined assault, against the skilled touches of her mouth and fingers that were going to make him explode.

But Christopher's fingers had mutinied against his brain's command because they were suddenly threading through her soft hair, pulling her
toward
him…and his hips were swaying gently…and her tongue was rolling around his deliciously aching flesh and driving him out of his mind.

“Damn, Ellen.” Cupping her face in his hands, he forced her to stop the rhythm that would push him right over the edge.

She replied with another long draw that made his knees buckle.

“Damn.” He sank back against the decaying header, felt the rough wood scratch his back. When Ellen sank back on her haunches, drawing her mouth away and leaving his wet erection exposed to the air, he groaned.

The sound of her throaty chuckle promised greater things to come, which did much to restore Christopher's equilibrium.

He had Ellen up on her feet before she had time to gasp.

The filmy nothing she wore shimmered over her body in the darkness, but his eyes had long ago adjusted to the
lack of light and he could see her every curve, the way her breasts quivered with each rise and fall of her chest. He wanted to bury himself inside her, desperately.

He was going to make love to her. No question. The only question was where?

Urging her around, Christopher came to stand behind her, sliding his hands down the length of her slender arms to guide her toward the railing. “Put your hands here and hang on.”

Ellen didn't say a word. She braced herself and pressed her sweet bottom back against him to cradle his erection between her silk-clad cheeks.

Christopher maneuvered aside the wispy silk, wound up ripping apart snaps in his haste. Worked for him. Now there was nothing to stop him from being where he wanted to be….

Taking aim, he found her wet and ready and he sank inside, one hot stroke that dragged a groan from his depths. Her moan filled his ears and for a moment he couldn't move, could only stand there and absorb the feel of her body melting around him.

Standing as they were, he could reach all her intimate places while still protecting her soft skin from the threat of splinters, or worse. He slipped his hands around her, down between her thighs. He rolled that nub with his fingertips, was gratified when she shuddered, a full-bodied shiver that wedged her against him even more.

He dragged his mouth against her neck, infinitely grateful for her new short style that allowed him to access her smooth skin so easily. She tipped her head to the side and suddenly he could catch her mouth with his—the side of her mouth, anyway. But it was enough. Their tongues tangled, warm velvet and tasting of sex, a taste that made him ache to draw out so he could sink inside her again, to thrust
and thrust until he satisfied his need for this woman that only grew stronger each time they made love.

But he didn't move until Ellen rolled her hips and pressed against him, the signal he'd been waiting for. Christopher pulled back, then plunged inside, all wet heat and softness.