Suzanna Medeiros (4 page)

She allowed herself to explore him then, running her hands across his shoulders and down the muscles of his arms. When she snaked her arms around his waist, he made an almost-strangled sound and tore his mouth from hers.

The next time his head dipped, it was lower than she’d expected. He placed his mouth on her neck, trailing warm kisses along its length. The heat of his breath caused an almost unbearable yearning within her. He didn’t stop there but moved even lower, nibbling playfully on her shoulder before proceeding to rain kisses down to her breast. He kneaded one breast while he trailed his tongue across the slope of the other. When he took the nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, she arched off the bed. He held her down, continuing to torture her with his mouth and hands as pleasure speared through her.

She needed to have him inside her and opened her legs. The tip of his shaft slid along her wet folds and she moaned.

“Shh. Not yet.” The words were softly spoken, but they seemed to echo in the room.

He trailed more kisses down her abdomen, startling her. When he continued his downward path, she tried to close her legs. His hands on her knees easily prevented the movement.

“Andrew, don’t…”

She jumped when he slid his hands high up on her thighs and held her there, his thumbs almost touching her opening. “What are you doing?”

He looked up and the naked lust in his eyes stole the rest of her protest.

“You proposed this arrangement—it’s all or nothing. I want to do this.”

He waited for her assent. She was uncomfortable with him seeing her so intimately, but at that moment she knew she would do anything for him. She also knew that despite what had happened in the past and how he had changed, she trusted him. If she hadn’t, she never would have approached him.

She nodded and started to close her eyes but then, remembering what he’d said about giving him everything, kept her gaze on him. She had difficulty holding still when he placed a kiss high on the inside of her thigh. He stared at her there, between her legs, and she fought the urge to turn away from him. With his thumbs he held her open, which confused her. Why would he want to look at her down there?

“I’ve imagined doing this to you.”

Before she could ask what he meant, his mouth covered her intimately and she jerked in shock.

His tongue swept along the place where she knew her center of her pleasure rested. Her husband had never touched her there—she’d had to discover it on her own. Having Andrew between her legs now, his tongue stroking her along that spot, was almost too much to bear. She was wetter than she had ever been, and the heat of his mouth, his tongue… Oh God, he entered her with two fingers and moved them in rhythm with his tongue.

She could no longer bear it. She closed her eyes and light exploded behind her lids, her hips bowing up off the bed. She might have yelled, but she was too overcome, and too astonished, to be sure.

He covered her in a flash. His manhood pressed against her and she opened her legs wider to welcome him. When he surged inside in a sudden, smooth thrust, she gasped in surprise. Surprise because there was no pain, only pleasure at finally being filled.

“Look at me, Miranda.”

And she did. He moved, his thrusts deep and steady at first. She panted but never broke eye contact. This she knew. She’d experienced this thrusting with her husband far too many times over the years. It had never been like this, however. With Hathaway she had only wanted it to be over quickly. But now she wanted it to go on forever.

Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his lean hips and arched up to meet each of his thrusts. Her breathing quickened. Staring deep into Andrew’s eyes, she almost felt as though she could touch his soul. What she saw there scared her a little. Desire, certainly, but also satisfaction. He knew she had never experienced such pleasure with her husband, and he reveled in the knowledge that he was showing her everything she had missed over the years by choosing Hathaway over him.

She allowed him that satisfaction, for he’d more than earned it. Her entire world centered on Andrew in that moment. All that mattered was him.

She climbed toward that same peak again and could no longer maintain eye contact. She threw her head back and panted each time he drove into her. His pace increased and he pressed his lips against her throat and murmured words she could not understand.

“Now, Miranda,” he said, lifting his head again to look down at her.

Unable to resist the command, she came apart in his arms. He continued to move inside her, drawing out the moment of ecstasy until, with a groan, he buried himself deep inside her and joined her with his release.

He collapsed against her and they lay like that for some time. His heavy weight against her comforted her and she wished they could stay like that forever. But even as she tried to draw comfort from his warmth, bone-deep regret began to spread through her. She’d been a fool to let herself be so easily swayed all those years ago. She never should have allowed her parents to convince her to give up Andrew.

Chapter Three

He needed to move. To get off her, get dressed, and leave. Instead, he rolled onto his side and drew her to him. She snuggled against him, hiding her face in his chest, and he hated how good it felt.

Miranda had gotten what she’d wanted from him. No, she’d gotten more. He could tell she hadn’t expected to orgasm. He shouldn’t ask the question—he already knew the answer—but he couldn’t help himself. “Was it like that with Hathaway?”

A full minute passed and he didn’t think she was going to reply.

“No,” she said finally. Simply.

Satisfaction filled him, along with a hint of relief that she hadn’t volunteered further details. He’d needed to know that at least in this one thing he’d surpassed her expectations. Lord knew, he hadn’t been enough for her in the past. He didn’t want to think about her in another man’s bed, however, so the less she said, the better for his peace of mind.

They stayed like that for some minutes as their breathing slowed and their bodies cooled. Only when he began to harden again did he push her away. Without speaking, he gathered her clothes and tossed them onto the bed. The sight of her, hair disheveled, face flushed, and lips full, partially open… his eyes moved lower. Her slight body remained on display and he was sorely tempted to tie her to the bed and keep her there for a week.

He had to call on his considerable self-discipline to turn his back and begin dressing. He heard her moving behind him, heard the rustle of fabric, but steeled himself not to turn around.

“Andrew?”

God, he had to get out of here. Now.

“What?” His tone was more abrupt than he’d intended.

“I require assistance.”

He took a deep breath and, gathering all his reserve, turned to face her. She stood there in her chemise, her drawers and stockings back in place. He could see her nipples, the dark triangle of hair, and those damn red garters through the thin material of her chemise. His head started to pound and it took him a few moments to realize she was holding up her stays.

“Turn around,” he said, the words almost strangling in his throat. She did, holding the corset against her front. He stared at her back, wanting nothing more than to strip the flimsy chemise from her body again and throw her back onto the bed. Somehow he kept himself from cursing aloud as he moved behind her and began lacing the strings of her stays.

“You’ve done this before.”

Did he detect a tremor in her voice? No, probably not. She appeared to be collected while he was a mass of desire and emotion.

Anxious to be away from her, he didn’t reply. He gave the garment one last sharp tug, finished tying the knot, and went back to his own dressing.

When he was done, more than ready by then to put distance between himself and Miranda Hathaway, he turned around. She’d donned her gown, but it gaped open and she was struggling to do up the buttons herself. This time he didn’t hold back his curse, and she looked up, startled.

They stared at each other for several long moments before she turned and waited for his assistance, the very picture of patience. A hint of anger slithered though him. How dare she remain so unaffected while he could barely contain himself? Needing to ruffle her calm demeanor, he moved behind her and placed his hands on her waist. She stood almost unnaturally still.

“What are you doing?”

He smiled with satisfaction when he heard the unmistakable quiver in her voice. That was better.

“Nothing. I was just wondering when you wanted to do this again. One time without precautions only suffices when one doesn’t wish to be with child.”

His hands moved to the row of buttons and she waited until he had finished before turning to him. Her flush had deepened. Knowing she’d never been one to color with embarrassment, he could only surmise it was from desire and his body stirred.

“What do you suggest? I don’t want to be an imposition.”

He gave a bark of laughter at that. “Sweet, making love to a beautiful woman is never an imposition.”

He froze when he realized he’d used his old endearment for her. If she noticed, though, she gave no indication. When she seemed at a loss as to how to answer, he continued.

“When did you last have your monthly courses? And are they regular?”

She looked away, clearly disconcerted by the question.

“We are both adults here, Miranda. These things are natural, and when one is intimate with another the subject will arise.”

She couldn’t conceal her surprise. “If you insist. I can tell you that in my experience, the subject was never once raised in my marriage.”

He wondered at that. It was clear Miranda’s marriage hadn’t been a passionate one, but surely there must have been a time when Hathaway wanted his rights as a husband and she’d had to put him off.

“You are evading the question.”

She hesitated before replying. “My first day of bleeding was one week ago, the same day my husband died. How is that for a morbid twist of fate? And before you ask, I don’t expect it again for at least three and a half weeks.”

He didn’t show it, but the news sent a surge of anticipation through him. Three weeks, at least. Surely he could slake his lust for Miranda Hathaway in that time and finally consign all thoughts of her and what might have been to the past, once and for all.

“In that case, I suggest we meet daily for the next three weeks.” She balked, but he spoke over her protests. “You don’t have the luxury of trying for months on end. If you want others to believe the baby you carry belongs to your husband, you need to do everything within your power to conceive this month.”

She took a shaky breath and licked her lips before replying, and he held back a groan, hoping she wouldn’t look down and notice he was already hard again.

“Very well,” she said with a small nod.

“Good. My carriage is waiting for me not too far away. I’ll arrange to have another carriage come to the house for you. There’s an extra key on the fireplace mantel so you can lock up when you leave.” He strode to the door, already anticipating what he would do to her the following evening. “Oh, and Miranda,” he said, turning when he’d reached the threshold, “fancy dresses really aren’t needed. I won’t care what you’re wearing since your clothing will be removed as soon as you arrive.”

Chapter Four

Miranda took Andrew at his word and wore something simple the next night. She chose a sky-blue day gown to wear under her dark cloak, not having it in her to wear mourning colors. Despite the fact that she hadn’t been in love with Robert and the fact that theirs had not been a passionate marriage, she’d still cared for him. And he’d always been good to her.

She tried not to think about how disappointed he’d be with her if he could see what she was doing. Her actions were the height of selfishness, but she knew that without the excuse of asking Andrew to help her sire an heir, she would never have had the courage to approach him for a traditional affair. Worse, she feared he would have laughed in her face. He’d been shocked by her proposal, but she’d counted on him wanting revenge against her husband. She’d hurt Andrew and it was human nature to want to lash back at the person who’d caused that hurt. Some might say she was being naïve, but she trusted that he wouldn’t hurt her, but he could strike back at the memory of her husband.

The fact that he’d shown her passion beyond her wildest imaginings was something she hadn’t expected. After twelve years of marriage, and the increasingly frantic and frustrated couplings she’d been subjected to by Robert when she failed to fall pregnant month after month, who would have thought she’d be so ignorant about the business of lovemaking?

After arriving home the night before, she’d taken out the slim volume of erotic art she’d found in her husband’s bedroom after his death. She hadn’t been able to make herself look through it before, but did so then with the hope of learning how to give Andrew the same pleasure he had shown her. She knew he’d been satisfied, she’d felt him finish, but she hated the idea that he might soon become bored with her. It was clear he didn’t lack for female companionship, and for the short time they would be together she didn’t want him sliding into boredom brought on by her obvious lack of carnal knowledge.

Filled with anticipation for the evening to come, she unlocked the front door and entered the house. Just as it had been the night before, the first floor was in darkness save for the light of the two lamps. She climbed the stairs, the bedroom on the second floor her destination. This time, Andrew was waiting for her in the room. On the bed. He’d already removed his boots and coat, and his relaxed posture made her ache to join him.

At her entrance he looked up from the book he’d been reading, a sensual smile forming on his wicked lips. He closed the book and placed it on the nightstand.

“I’ve always appreciated the fact that you’re never late,” he said, leaning back against the headboard. He folded his arms across his chest and watched her.

Feeling self-conscious, she removed her cloak and draped it over a chair. When she turned back to face him, he remained motionless, watching her intently. The way he seemed to devour her with his eyes should have embarrassed her. Before last night, it would have. Now, however, the heat in his eyes only served to heighten her desire.