Reckless Viscount (27 page)

With a guttural growl, he pushed off from the wall again and wrapped his arms around her slim form, trapping her hand between them, still wrapped firmly around him.

“Enough,” he choked between gritted teeth.

“But I…” she began breathlessly but stopped when he opened his eyes and looked down into her face.

He knew by her sharp intake of breath that he must look as fierce as he felt. He lowered his head until his mouth hovered over hers. “Give me your mouth.”

She lifted herself against him, tilting her face to his.

His kiss was too harsh. He knew it, yet he couldn’t bring himself to soften his lips, couldn’t stop the desperate plunging of his tongue into her mouth. He needed too much. Needed her softness, her warmth, her generosity. And he needed it all now.

He continued to take from her mouth, without gentle consideration or practiced finesse, without a mind toward seduction or manipulation. The desire to be surrounded by her overpowered every other thought. With a muffled groan, he released himself to it. He grabbed at her buttocks, pulling her roughly against his erection, rocking his hips into her soft belly to feel the sliding pressure of her body.

She gasped at the contact and shifted her legs against his thighs. She returned his kisses with equal fervor and her hands slid up his back to grasp at his shoulders. She was pulling herself higher against him, as if trying to fit her body more effectively to his hardness.

It was happening again. He was getting carried away. Things were going too fast. This isn’t how he wanted to do this.

He grasped her upper arms, probably a bit too hard, and shoved her away from him until she was at arm’s length.

She gave a startled sound of protest and looked at him, her wide eyes full of shining fire and dawning confusion.

“Back away, Irish.” Her expression darkened and she strained against his hold, but he cut her off before she could form an argument. “Trust me. Back up a few paces to where I can’t reach you.”

Maybe there was something in his voice that finally reached her because she stopped fighting him then and her eyes seemed to take in all of him at once. Her features softened. As innocent as she still was, she seemed to understand there was more to come.

She stepped back with one foot. Then the other. Observing him as she did so.

His hands fell to his sides and he settled his weight more fully against the wall at his back.

She reached the center of the room, to a spot where the glow of the fading embers caressed her with a mystical balance of light and shadow.

“That’s good, sweetheart. Right there.”

She stopped. Her expression full of the trust he had asked of her.

“Now,” he said, his voice a little stronger. “Undress for me.”

The light in her eyes flickered, with excitement perhaps? Then she reached behind her to release the buttons that ran along the back of her gown. Her position forced her breasts forward and upward, the gentle swells pushing insistently against the top edge of her bodice. When the gown was loosened, she lifted her hands to her shoulders and pulled the diaphanous material down the slender length of her pale body until she dropped it to pool at her feet.

Leif concentrated on keeping his back flat against the wall.

A few more excruciating moments later, her undergarments were similarly dispensed. She stood before him beautifully bared and lovely.

She was perfect.

Finally seeing her fully exposed, displayed before him with a glorious lack of embarrassment, he was astounded. Every element of her body came together in a depiction of flawless femininity. High, gentle breasts, a narrow, delicate ribcage and even narrower waist. Soft female hips and lovely white thighs, dainty feet and graceful hands. Her sex was shadowed by pale strawberry-blonde curls.

He wanted to stalk toward her like a conquering warrior and claim every inch of her. He wanted to taste the shadows where the dying firelight couldn’t reach.

His chest squeezed with the effort to hold back, to stay where he was and appreciate all that she was from the minimal distance. He roughly cleared his throat.

“Your hair.”

Without hesitation, she lifted her hands and pulled the pins from her hair one at a time.

He sensed she was enjoying the subtle game they were playing. There was a glint of power in her gaze as she focused on his face.

She was watching his reaction to her and the desire in her eyes flowed over him like a wave, tightening the skin on his body, rushing the blood through his veins, settling in his groin like a clenched fist.

Her lush curls fell down her back. She ran her fingers through the length a few times, easing loose the tangles until the tresses glowed with a pale golden fire.

“You are unbelievably beautiful.” The words, once he said them, sounded so inadequate.

Hearing them, she didn’t smile, didn’t blush. She gave a slight tilt of her head. “So are you.”

Her voice carried like liquid gold to his ears, and as she spoke her gaze drifted down to where his erection still stood high and proud against his belly. Her eyes lingered there and her lips parted.

“Leif?”

His name was a soft plea on her tongue. He intended to oblige her sensual request. But not yet. Not only did he want to give her more than he had in their first two couplings, but he also wanted more from her.

“Lay your hands on your body.”

At his instruction, she blinked and lifted her eyes to meet his again. “What?”

“I want you to touch yourself,” he repeated in a voice that was both stern and seductive. Iron and velvet.

With tentative grace, she lifted her hands and rested them against her midriff, then paused and looked to him for direction.

Perfect. Leif tried to suppress his wolfish pleasure but felt the slow smile curving his lips.

“Move them slowly upward. To your breasts.”

She did as he said. Her slim fingers curved around the soft white flesh. Her pink nipples tightened and peeked out from between her fingertips.

He swallowed hard. The sight of her hands lifting, caressing, teasing her own breasts was frighteningly erotic. He forced himself to continue. “Do they grow heavy with longing?”

Her response was an imperceptible sound in the back of her throat.

“Now. Move one hand down. Over your belly.”

Keeping her eyes on his face, she slid her hand over the flat surface of her stomach, passing over her navel. When her progress slowed, he urged her farther with the sultry flow of his words.

“Don’t stop, Irish. I want you to reach between your creamy thighs. Slide your fingers against your sex.”

She hesitated only the barest second. But she was a brave one, his fair little bride.

Her eyelids lowered over her direct gaze, not completely, but enough for her lush lashes to shield her innermost thoughts. And her slim hand reached past the pale curls to the sensitive flesh between her legs.

The moment her fingertips made contact, he knew she had never before touched herself there for the purpose of pleasure.

Her lips parted and her legs stiffened beneath her. Her hand stilled.

“Tell me what you feel, sweetheart.”

She licked her lips, “I feel…wet and very hot.”

He swallowed the groan that rose from his chest as his cock pulsed with a precursor to climax. Leif grasped a hold of himself at the base and closed his eyes against the sight of her hand clenched between her thighs. He tightened his grip unmercifully to stem the rush of sensation.

He had never reached the verge of orgasm without even being touched. He had to get himself under control.

After a moment, it felt safe to open his eyes and what he saw sent a bursting jolt of pleasure through his body so acute it was painful.

Abbigael’s gaze was focused intently on his groin where his hand was wrapped firmly around himself. Her eyes were glazed with desire and her breath came sharp and short through her full, parted lips. One hand held to her breast and the other was still between her thighs, moving in a slow, gentle rhythm.

The thundering pulse started in his head and shot straight through his insides to his balls, sending another wave of deep pulling pleasure-pain through his cock from base to tip. This time, he did groan from the effort to hold back the orgasm. He had no intention of wasting his pleasure right here on the floor.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

He continued to underestimate her at every turn. She was too erotic, too perfect in her innocence and daring. And he was wound up far too tightly in want of her.

Looking away, he managed to utter through clenched teeth.

“I need a minute, sweetheart. Go to the bed. I will be right there.”

He didn’t move until he heard her soft steps on the floor and then the subtle creak of the mattress as she climbed on. He was glad she didn’t argue this time. If she had approached him then, he would have taken her to the floor and plunged deep without another thought to his plan of leisurely lovemaking.

Taking deep breaths, he concentrated on benign thoughts to pull himself free of the sensual maze. Finally, when the tight tension eased in his hand, he released himself and reached to his side to close the door that remained wide open.

Good thing his limited servants were blessedly absent in the evenings.

Bending forward, he removed his shoes and stockings. He took extra care with the articles, setting them carefully aside, folding the stockings neatly. Somehow the mundane task distracted him enough to slow the throbbing pulse in his blood to a more manageable rhythm. Only then did he strip off the rest of his clothes until he was naked.

He padded over to the fireplace and stirred the dying coals, blowing across them to release a stronger glow.

Finally ready, he turned to face the bed.

He had expected her to lie out beneath the covers.

Instead, she was perched in the center of the small mattress. Her legs were folded beneath her and she sat back on her heels. Pert breasts teased him from behind the silky veil of her hair. Her hands lay tensely on the surface of her thighs and she watched him.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Abbigael feared she might go up in flames. Her skin burned, her breath was heavy and labored, her blood boiled with need. And her core, the place that seemed to have swollen with her increasing desire, was aching with sultry heat.

As she watched Leif moving about the room, his strong, muscled body tantalizing and mysterious in the faint firelight, she found herself squeezing her thighs together. Though she couldn’t say if her intention was to ease her ache or increase it.

When he finally turned to face her, she had to bite the inside of her lower lip to keep herself in control.

She was so terribly captivated by everything about him. His lean, sculpted body, the way the wolfish glow of his eyes made her feel as if he wished to consume her whole, even the modest bedroom he kept for himself. A room where, she had no doubt, he had never taken one of his other women.

When they had first walked into the other room, she had been shocked and disturbed by the blatant evidence of the kind of life he lived. As she looked around, she had wondered just how many women he had entertained there, how many had fallen in love with him? How many had he loved?

Jealousy had risen in her chest, making her feel insecure, foolish and way out of her depth with the man she had married. How would he see her after such a wide and varied past? How on earth could she be anything other than disappointing?

But just as quickly as the feelings of inadequacy came upon her, she had forced them aside. She would not sink into such thoughts. Somehow, she would find a way to show Leif she could be an equal partner to him, out of the bedroom and within.

And now, as he slowly stalked toward her from across the narrow room, she held her breath, knowing that no matter how much she learned, Leif would always be the master in this area. And she would always eagerly and without hesitation follow where he led.

Getting to the bed, he knelt on the mattress and reached for her, lifted her up to her knees. She trembled with the desire to feel his naked skin against hers, but he didn’t pull her close. Instead, he slid his hands beneath her hair and curved them around her neck, pressing his thumbs under her chin to tilt her face up to his.

She stared fixedly at his face, her lips parted in anticipation.

His expression was so hot and desirous she nearly melted into a puddle right there.

Her breasts ached to press against his chest. Her thighs shook and her body thrummed with the energy and need that rushed through her. Yet he held her face and searched in her gaze until she wondered what he could possibly find there that so engaged him.

With a slight quirk of his mouth, he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip and then smiled more fully. A grin both boyish and profoundly carnal.

“I want to create a need in you so great and compelling that you lose all sense of time, all rational thought.” His voice was liquid fire curving through her awareness like a sinuous, sensual serpent. “I want to prolong your pleasure for hours and hours so when you finally claim your release it is like entering heaven itself.”