Surrender to a Wicked Spy (5 page)

Relief swept him as he gripped her shoulders in both hands and set her gently away from him, keeping a tight rein on his self-control.

Olivia blinked in surprise as she was firmly but gently detached from her new husband. "Did—did I not do well?" she asked breathlessly as she struggled to focus her vision. "I tried to do what you did. Should I try again?"

She stepped forward to do just that, for she longed to be drawn back into that whirling, passionate moment once more. She'd never, ever,
ever
in her life—well, of course she hadn't. No virtuous girl would.

He'd not released her shoulders. Now, he pressed her back, keeping her at arm's length. Olivia gazed up at him, her brows drawn together. His lack of expression confused her. "Why—"

No virtuous girl would.

Mother was constantly telling Olivia she was too unrestrained, too prone to disgraceful behavior. Why, she'd not only kissed him, she'd
licked
him! She backed a step from his hold, her hands covering her hot cheeks. "Oh heavens! What you must think of me—"

First she'd berated him for his neglect, then shamelessly demanded that he stay and consummate the marriage—how mad that was!—then she'd thrown herself at him!

It had been heated and wild and more than she'd ever dreamed. His lips had felt hot and hungry—and the scorching wetness of his mouth and the way his tongue had invaded her—
inside
her! The way he'd pulled her forcefully against his big, hard body, making her feel small and helpless and utterly in his power, the way his lips had covered hers—
owned
hers!—sparking a hunger of her own that had nearly overwhelmed her.

Even as she stood there, racked by embarrassment, she felt a hot shudder of hunger ripple through her at the memory. Oh, she was irredeemable!

"Olivia."

He'd never called her by name before, she realized. She liked the way he said it, especially the way the second syllable deepened his voice slightly. Large, warm hands covered her shoulders and pulled her back against the solid wall of his chest.

"Olivia, do not be distressed."

She shook her head quickly. "I was too brazen. I was too—"

He gave her a tiny shake. "No. Look at me, my dear," he ordered gently.

She did so. He was gazing down at her, his blue eyes serious. She'd never seen him
thus. He'd always seemed rather jovial, yet somehow the sober expression suited him.

"I am your husband," he told her. "It is my charge to lead the way in matters of physical love. You were simply responding to my own lack of restraint."

She bit her lip. "I was?"

He raised his hands to cradle her jaw tenderly. The heat of his palms sank through her and began to inflame the banked coals inside her once more.

"My dear, your honest responsiveness was delightful in every way. It is my fault that you were led astray."

"It was?" Olivia frowned slightly. Somehow that didn't seem quite right, but then, what did she know on the topic? "So the way you kissed me wasn't correct?"

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly. "No, it was not. Between a man and his lady wife, there should never be such an assault."

Oh dear. She truly was shameless, for she felt deep disappointment that he might never kiss her that way again. Still, it was the only kiss she'd ever had. It could be that other sorts of kisses were even better. Unlikely but possible.

Encouraged, she placed her own hands softly on his face, mirroring his on hers. She watched his eyes, prepared to stop if she saw disapproval there. He held very still, allowing her to slip her fingertips into the golden hair at his temples. "Then, perhaps…"

He lifted a brow. She felt the movement under his soft skin. "Perhaps?" he inquired.

Quite without thought, the tip of Olivia's tongue slipped out to wet her lips. His eyes went dark as his gaze riveted to her mouth.

"Perhaps you could show me—" Her voice sounded husky and unfamiliar to her own ears. She swallowed hard, feeling poised on the threshold of a world unknown. "Show me the proper way to kiss you?"

Dane knew he needed to make a better beginning this time. She seemed shaken and unsure now—and it was all his fault. Damning his lack of restraint, he vowed to make this kiss count in his favor.

Slowly, he brought his lips down to hers. She began to go up on tiptoe to meet him. When he went still, she stopped, settling back down to wait for him. Hope began to spring within him that she had been the perfect choice. She seemed imminently teachable and astonishingly willing to please him.

That willingness could also be dangerous, he suddenly realized, for her complete submission to him fair to enraged his lust once more. His animal nature beat at the bars of the cage he'd built about it.

The things he could convince such a woman to do—the things he could convince her to allow him to do! Dark, erotic visions darted through his mind, fleeting and tantalizing and entirely wicked.

He banished them by force of will and bent once more to the task at hand.

Olivia let her eyes drift shut as he neared, tiny shivers of expectation running up her spine.

Warm lips touched hers, so carefully that for a moment she was not sure it wasn't simply his soft breath she was feeling. Touch, retreat, touch—like the lighting of a butterfly on a blossom. The shivers increased, vibrating through her to set her lower belly trembling anew. Her lips parted instinctively, blooming for him.

His mouth settled gently on hers, the tip of his warm tongue slipping briefly in to trace the sensitive inner lining of her lips.

At that sweet invasion, the strength in her knees vanished. She sagged against him. He wrapped one mighty arm about her waist, supporting her while his other hand continued to cradle her face. His lips awoke hers with firm, gentle pressure and, to her surprise, the tiniest, teasing suction. He pressed his large thumb to her jaw, encouraging to open her mouth further for his slow, sweet penetration. She turned herself over to him entirely, letting him easily guide and maneuver her.

The luxurious room around them vanished, as did Olivia's embarrassment. Even her mother's critical voice faded to nothing in the seductive glow of her husband's tender kiss.

«
^
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When he lifted his mouth from hers, Olivia continued to sink into him. She had no choice, for her knees were still weak.

"I was quite right," she sighed. "That was lovely, too." His arm tightened about her. "I'm glad you think so." She drew a long breath. "I'm dizzy again."

"Are you often thus?" A thread of concern tightened his husky whisper against her lips.

She shook her head. "Never in my life. I'm beginning to think it is your doing. You make my heart beat so."

Something shivered through him. She could feel his tension. For a moment, his grip tightened fiercely. It was only an instant, passing almost before she noticed. She opened her eyes to gaze into his Viking-god face. His eyes were twilight dark and narrowed as he fixed them on her. "When we kiss, does the room disappear for you as well?" His jaw worked. "No."

She frowned slightly in disappointment. "That is too bad. It's rather lovely. I like it."

He closed his eyes and touched his forehead to hers. "Olivia…"

"Yes… Dane?" She'd never called him by name before.

"Shut it."

She closed her eyes and smiled. "Yes, Dane."

After that, there was no more talking. She held still, allowing his large hands to rove over her freely. First he slid his palms over her shoulders and down her arms, then he raised her hands to clasp loosely behind his neck. Then she felt him stroke down her arms again and down her body to her waist.

His hands didn't linger there for long. She felt him bend slightly, then jerked in surprise as his hot palms slid down and cupped her bottom. The thin fabric of her nightdress might as well not have been there at all, for she could feel the heat of his palms burn directly into her flesh.

"Shh." His whisper across her neck sent another shiver through her. "I only wish to get to know you."

"Oh," she said breathlessly. "I like dogs."

He went still, his palms still pressing her to him. "What does that mean, precisely?"

"It means that if you want to know me better, you might be interested in the fact that I like dogs." She cracked one eye open. "What did you think I meant?"

She saw him shake his head slightly, as if dislodging something stubborn.

"You don't want to know." He sounded slightly breathless himself.

She closed her eyes and took a breath, deciding to enjoy the way his hands grasped her softness. It made her feel as though her figure was not as bovine as her mother had so often insinuated. "You may continue."

He did just that. He pulled her body into his, until his groin pressed to her belly… but only for the briefest moment. Then he pulled his lower body away. That was unfortunate, for Olivia was mightily curious about that lower body, but she didn't think he would appreciate any more interruptions. There was time, after all. They had the rest of their lives to discover each other.

Forever. What a lovely thought when one's husband was a Viking god.

His hands were moving again. They moved down the backs of her thighs a bit, then smoothed around them to the front. Olivia tensed slightly, for he was about to head into delicate territory—but he only moved upward and wrapped his hands around her hips, thumbs nearly touching her navel.

He cradled her thus for a moment, his breath still coming warm on her neck. "You are my wife," he whispered.

"Yes," she replied uncertainly. "I thought we'd established that."

"You are mine."

Oh heavens. A shiver of anticipation went through her at the faint possessive growl behind those words. "I am," she whispered.

"All of you."

Her knees threatened to weaken again. "All of me," she breathed.

He slowly slid his hands up her waist until his thumbs rested against the undersides of her full bosom. "Mine," he said softly as he slowly swept his fingers and palms up over her breasts, until he was hefting their weight fully in his hands.

When his fingers rubbed across her, jolts of wicked pleasure shot from her rigid nipples to places best left unmentioned, Olivia gasped, nearly pulling her hands down to fend him off. She'd never—it wasn't—

"No," he ordered softly. "Stay just as you are."

His sensually commanding tone made her shiver anew and she reclasped her fingers behind his neck, leaving her helplessly awakened flesh undefended before him. He caressed her breasts in a slow circle, his hands at once hard and gentle. "Open your eyes," he said. "Look down."

She did so, and the sight of his large tanned hands covering the bodice of her nightdress sent new heat below. Her nipples—they were large and always such a burden to hide in chill weather—pressed out from between his fingers, their rosy color showing through the filmy fabric.

"Your breasts are lovely," he said huskily. "I want to see them."

Olivia closed her eyes again, a tiny sound escaping from her lips. He must have taken it for acquiescence—and truly, what else could it have been?—for his hands left her flesh. She felt his touch at her neckline, felt the ribbon ties give way and the bodice of the nightdress part, and felt the cooler air of the room waft over her skin.

The candles still burned, the room was still bright, and she was bare before him. It was wicked. It was delicious.

He covered her breasts with his hands again.

Olivia gasped. She'd been wrong. It was nothing like being touched through the thin batiste fabric. His hands were a thousand times hotter, and the slight roughness of his palms and fingers on her softer skin was exquisitely arousing.

"Look down, my lady," he urged.

She opened her eyes and gazed down to see. The sight of his darker hands covering her white breasts, the way her flesh welled between his fingers, the way her ruby nipples thrust eagerly outward as if awaiting something—

He lowered his head to her, taking that waiting tip into his mouth—oh, dear heavens,
hot
!—his hot mouth, and suckled her deeply. Wicked, violent pleasure jolted through her like lightning and Olivia threw her head back, unable to watch, unable to do anything but try to breathe in sharp gasps as he drew on her.

Her knees buckled and she clung to his shoulders as he followed her down, laying her to the mattress without letting up the suction for an instant. The bed—she'd forgotten the bed…

His tongue flicked roughly across her nipple and she forgot the bed again as she shuddered at the new pleasure. He wrapped one big arm behind her back to lift her breasts to his mouth and slid the other hand down her body to her knee. He went from one nipple to the other, suckling and flicking and even—oh my—gently biting. Helpless under the wicked assault, Olivia was barely aware of his other, roving hand until she felt the heat of his palm crossing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

Then he cupped her center and began rotating the heel of his hand gently, just where she wanted it the most, his fingers dipping lower to trace the crease of her. Then they slipped inside.

She convulsed in his grasp, gasping and digging her fingers into the thick muscles of his shoulders. "Oh!
Oh
!" After that, there were no words. She was lost in the sea of new sensations washing over her, into her, through her…

His hot, hungry mouth suckled and nibbled. His hand moved faster, sliding up and down now, his long fingers tracing through the dampness that she was much too far gone to be embarrassed by, slicking past and around her most sensitive place again and again and again—

Something inside of her reached its highest point and then detonated. Piercing tremors racked her body and she was vaguely and indifferently aware that she was making the oddest noises, soft and gasping and not at all like her.

"Shh." He held her close now, having pulled her into his lap with her head on his shoulder, almost rocking her in his iron-banded arms. "You're all right now."

She became aware that she was gasping open-mouthed like a fish. She shut her mouth and swallowed drily. "Oh… my." She blinked her gaze back into focus. "Was… was that supposed to happen to me?"