Julia London (81 page)

Her skin burned where he touched her, igniting the flames in her belly all over again. “I, ah, suppose I could be ill, but I really do not recall ever feeling something quite like this, you know—” She stopped abruptly as his hand slid up her ribcage to the side of her breast. His other hand slipped beneath her cloak, encircling her waist, drawing her into his chest. “I don’t think it really an illness, but I suppose it could be indigestion, although that seems unlikely since I hardly ate a bite today,” she babbled.

“I do not think,” he murmured through a faint smile, “that this is indigestion.” His lips grazed her neck, sending another round of shivers through her. “I know what ails you, angel—it is this incredible desire we attempt to deny. If
you will allow me, I will fix it.” He nibbled her earlobe, taking her earring into his mouth. She inhaled sharply, and he lifted his head. “We will not do anything you do not want, Lauren. We can stop at any time.”

That was a monstrous lie, and she knew it. “Alex,” she whispered, plunging headlong into the situation she had created, “please, just show me.”

He groaned softly, swept her into his arms, and marched to the bed. He paused to sweep the dust cloth from it, then fell with her in his arms onto the elaborate green and gold spread. One arm swept under her and hauled her into his chest as his mouth descended hungrily to hers. Deftly, he discarded her cloak, his hands caressing her back and loosening her hair from its pins. Driven by the urgency to touch him, she swept her hands over his chest and shoulders, feeling the corded muscles beneath his silken shirt.

Her hair tumbled down around them, forming a curtain of dark curl as he unfastened the buttons of her gown with the skill of a lady’s maid. Somehow, the gown came off, as did his coat, waistcoat, and shirt. When he pulled the ribbon of her chemise, one breast sprang free. He palmed it, slowly kneading the peak to stretch taut and firm, and dragged his mouth from her throat to lave it. A surge of raw, intoxicating sensation roared through her, and moaning softly, she reached for him.

Suddenly on her back, Lauren grasped his thick hair as he laved the other breast, amazed by the shocking reverberations that rumbled through her body and seemed to settle in her groin. A pressure, sweet and torturous, was building in her belly. She caught a nervous breath when Alex pulled the hem of her chemise upward, then gasped with terrified pleasure when his fingers brushed lightly against her flesh. He thrust his tongue into her mouth as his fingers danced sensuously across her bare skin, skirting the apex of her thighs, then slipping into the wet folds. “My God, you are beautiful,” he murmured against her skin.

Terrified by what he was doing to her, Lauren froze. His fingers stroked her skillfully, circling around and over a point of intense pleasure. His lips found hers again, tenderly kissing her while the pressure built to intolerable lightness. “Angel,” he whispered, “dear God, I want you.” His warm lips fell to her neck as he fumbled with his trousers. When his weight settled on her again, she could feel his velvet tip throbbing against her bare flesh. Each sensation, more startling than the last, was as tormenting as it was exquisite. She impulsively, anxiously, came up on her elbows.

Alex paused and looked into her eyes. Tiny tufts of chestnut curls swirled around her face. Long, silken tresses dropped to the bed behind her and over her shoulder. Propped on her elbows, her magnificent breasts exposed to him, she looked at him with a beguiling softness that made his heart pound. He had never desired a woman so intently. He had never yearned to show a woman what he was feeling, to give her all the pleasure he could, to fulfill her in ways she had never before experienced. Lauren’s dark blue eyes fell to his mouth and she tenderly laid two fingers against his lips.

It was more than a man could possibly endure. Alex swiftly positioned himself between her thighs. She was still on her elbows, her breasts rising and falling with each frantic breath as he entered her. He moved carefully and steadily, relishing the feel of her body tightening provocatively around him, pulling him into her depths. Unconsciously, she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, her gaze drifting to his lips.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he hoarsely urged her. A torrent of emotion flowing through him, Alex slipped a steadying hand behind her back. Gazing into her eyes, he plunged fiercely into her warmth.

With a strangled cry of pain, Lauren buried her face in his shoulder.

Stunned, Alex’s body went rigid, his mind reeling with
the realization that she was a virgin.
A virgin!
He lowered her to the bed, murmuring his desperate apology for having hurt her and an equally desperate promise he would never hurt her again. Terribly confused, he tried to make sense of it, tried to understand how a widow was a virgin. It was impossible! But it
was
possible; he had
felt
himself tear through her maidenhead. God, what had he done?
What in the hell had he done?

Lauren was oblivious to his astonishment; the sudden pain had shocked her. Slowly, it began to ebb, and she shifted against him, instinctively wanting to continue this extraordinary journey, to feel the keen pressure of his body inside her again. He moaned, kissed her softly, and began to lure her into the seductive rhythm of his passion. The pain forgotten, she quickly became entranced with what was happening to her. He buried his face against her neck, his breathing ragged—she intuitively knew he was restraining himself, moving gently for her benefit. His hand found her breast again, and he tenderly rolled the peak between his fingers, sending a jolt of sensation down her spine that landed squarely in the midst of the pressure building in her groin.

Her body screaming for release, she began to move with him. Alex answered her desire by slipping an arm under her hips so he could lengthen his stroke and reach the very core of her. As the pressure began to build toward a frightening climax, Lauren clung to him, afraid that she would virtually explode into pieces. “Let it come, angel,” he murmured in her ear. “Let it happen.”

Suddenly, the pressure in her spiraled upward and out of control. She convulsed against him as her entire body burst into a thousand pinpricks of light. A cry of pure pleasure stuck in her throat as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her. Her body felt weightless; she would have sworn she floated above the bed. Alex’s strokes took on a new urgency; he answered her soft gasps with a low growl before
throwing his head back and pouring his seed deep within her. With a final, powerful thrust, a guttural moan emanated from his throat before he collapsed on top of her, bracing himself on his elbows.

When she could focus at last, she smiled brilliantly, in a state of complete euphoria.
“Alex,”
she whispered. He smiled, stroking her cheek with his knuckles. She could not have dreamed it would be so intimate, so
giving.
Her eyes filled with tears that she tried to blink away.

Alex immediately cupped her face in his hands, muttering an oath under his breath. “I hurt you, didn’t I? Darling, I did not know—why did you not tell me?” he moaned as a fat tear slipped down her cheek. She laughed, surprising him, while more tears slipped from her eyes.

“Oh, Alex, I am so glad it was you,” she murmured. She reached up and twirled a lock of his hair around her finger. “I … I never imagined it could be so wonderful between two people. I was terribly afraid I would never really know you,” she said softly, a new flood of warmth filling her from head to toe. “And I so desperately wanted to
know
you.”

He looked at her in amazement. She laughed giddily against his neck, never having felt so strong or secure in her life. God, she adored him, and without thinking, she suddenly blurted, “I love you, Alex, do you know that? I have loved you since the day you incited Lucy to almost kill me, and I cannot stop!” She laughed again, a little hysterically. “I have tried and tried, I really have, but I cannot make myself not love you!”

Stunned by her admission of love, Alex held her tightly as she simultaneously sobbed and laughed into his neck. He rolled onto his side, still holding her. Moved by the simple sincerity in her declaration, he marveled at the depth of his understanding. God forgive him, but he was quite certain he loved her just as profoundly.

Which made the extraordinary experience they had just shared all the more difficult, something he forcibly blocked
from his mind. “You are,” he murmured, “the most beautiful woman in all of England. An angel. A wicked little angel at that, for making me want you so badly.”

She giggled. “Do you want me truly, Alex?”

“With all my heart, darling,” he responded, somewhat amazed that he would admit as much.

“For … for just one night?” she asked hesitantly, tracing the line of his jaw with her finger.

God, if she only knew. “For a lifetime.”

Her hand slipped away from his face, and she sank into the pillows. He propped himself on his elbow and gazed down at her, stroking her satin hair. “What are you thinking?”

“How cruel life is.”

He said nothing for a long moment. He thought about the possibilities open to them, but the best he could imagine was the occasional visit to Rosewood, or secret trysts in London from time to time. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye as she stared blankly at the canopy above them. He would not allow the magic between them to be marred with the cold reality of their lives. They had one night. He leaned over her and kissed the tip of her nose. “I will think of something, Lauren. I will find a way for us,” he said soothingly, and claimed her lips again.

He made love to her again, slowly and gently, reaching another pinnacle of fulfillment he had not thought possible. But when the clock on the mantel struck three, the practical side of him took over.

   They rode to Russell Square in silence, his arm wrapped protectively around her, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. She was still smiling, and he could not wrest his gaze away from the beauty he held in his arms. What they had shared had been the most fulfilling physical act of love in which he had ever engaged. He had never been so completely
possessed
in his entire life. Women had writhed beneath
him before, but none had filled him with her response or had aroused him to new heights of fulfillment. But what really moved him was the discovery of something so primal, so inordinately masculine in the possession of her virginity. The impact on him was powerful—she was a part of him now. He had claimed her, had touched her depths before any other man. She was his angel.
His.

As the coach slowed on Russell Square, Lauren looked up, an unreadable expression in her eyes. Strange, but he suddenly sensed an impending loss that made him oddly nervous. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many things he
should
say. And just as many things he should
not
say, had no
right
to say.

“Lauren, we must talk. I—”

“I love you, Alex. Do not say anything to discourage me,” she whispered, smiling. “I know what the truth is, but this night belongs to us. Please, let’s not spoil it.” Her eyes implored him, and he was struck by the recognition that it was completely beyond his power to say no to her. With a heavy sigh of resignation, he climbed out of the coach, then helped her down. As she glanced furtively toward the town house, he was gripped again with the unnerving thought she was slipping away from him. Desperate, he caught her arm.

“I must see you again.” Her lips parted, and he quickly shook his head. “Listen to me. I do not care about anything else, I just want…” The words died in his throat. What did he want? Goddammit, what did he really
want
! “Look, just come to me tomorrow,” he said anxiously. “Vauxhall Gardens, nine o’clock, the small fountain near the entrance. Do you know which one I mean? Tell Hill that you are to see Lady Darfield. Promise me you will come.” He spoke quickly, frantically, the fingers of irrational fear curling around his heart. Fear he would lose forever what he had found tonight.

“Of course I will be there,” she whispered, and leaning up on her tiptoes, kissed the corner of his mouth. She giggled
as she pried his fingers from her elbow, then turned and walked briskly toward the door of the town house.

“Don’t be late!” he whispered loudly after her.

She tossed an alluring smile over her shoulder and shook her head. He watched as she skipped up the narrow little path and inside, the memory of her smile forever burned in his brain. How extraordinary, he thought, that he would gladly endure the flames of hell for a glimpse of that smile. How ironic that he was well on his way.

Euphoric and wildly in love, Lauren stepped into the darkened foyer and quietly shut the door behind her. She had never felt so wonderfully complete in all her life. Nothing could have prepared her for the magic of being loved by Alex; her body still tingled with the delicious memory of it. As she slipped out of her cloak, she paused to rub the fabric against her face, recalling the feel of his hands on her skin.

“Enjoy the opera?”

Startled, she whirled around, dropping her cloak. Deep in the shadows, Paul was standing next to the armor. “You startled me!” She smiled, bending to retrieve her cloak.

Paul did not return her smile. “Bergen was here earlier, waiting for you, until it became apparent you were not coming home from the opera. Where did you go?” he asked quietly.

“Ah … to a gathering at Harrison Green’s,” she lied, then asked hastily, “where is Ethan?”

Paul’s expression was dubious at best. “In bed. He tired
rather quickly from all the cackling about the five hundred thousand pounds a year the duke apparently earns.”

“Oh,” she said softly.

“I was under the distinct impression when you left here tonight that you were not interested in his company. In fact, I thought you were most decidedly set against it.”

“I suppose the evening was better than I anticipated,” she murmured. “I had a wonderful time, Paul,” she said, conscious that she smiled too brightly.