Tempting Miss Allender (Regency Rakes 3) (24 page)

“Patience.” He breathed her name against her lips, then his arms were around her, and she was lifted and pressed against the wonderful hard planes of his chest. “God, what you do to me, love.”

She pushed his jacket from his shoulders, then moved to his waistcoat. He let her fingers fumble with each button, and finally when each was undone, he was left in his shirtsleeves.

“No more.” His hands stopped hers as she reached for his shirt.

“I am to be exposed, but not you?”

“I won’t be able to stop if you do that, and I won’t do that to you, not when we are not wed.”

She saw the tension in him then, the way his body strained away from her hands as she lifted one to rest on his chest. “I am old enough to make this decision, Mathew, and I don’t want you to stop.”

His eyes closed briefly, and when they opened the fire in them swept over her. “Be very sure, Patience, because this changes everything between us, and I have only so much control when it comes to you.”

“And what we just did hasn’t already changed everything?”

“You always have to have the last word, don’t you?”

She watched as he reached for his necktie, which he tore open. His shirt was next; he pulled it over his head so that now he stood before her naked from the waist up. Mathew was mouthwatering, his stomach flat and taut, each muscle well defined. Patience traced the line of his neck, then moved lower, caressing the skin she encountered along the way until he let out a long hiss of breath.

“I cannot allow you to lord over me all the time,” she whispered, fascinated by what she saw and felt. Fascinated that her touch seemed to affect him as his had her.

“Your touch is like a brand, Patience.”

She teased his chest, running her fingers in light strokes over his heated skin. He fondled her through her nightdress, his fingers gliding over her ribs and higher until they moved to cup her bare breasts, the heat from his palms sending her senses reeling.

“This needs to go.” He reached for the hem of her nightdress, and Patience lifted her hands as he pulled it over her head. Then he was touching her once again, creating delicious tension inside her that made her sigh and moan.

He took his time kissing her breasts, and then stroked a hand down her stomach to touch her there, between her thighs. His fingers brushed the soft, damp petals, stroking and teasing until Patience wanted more. When she opened her thighs wider, he continued to torment her until the tension that rose with each caress was almost unbearable.

“Mathew,” she sighed as he rubbed the small hard nub, and when he pushed his fingers inside her Patience reached the pinnacle, digging her fingers into the hard muscle of his shoulders she let herself fall, knowing he would be there to catch her.

Lifting her heavy eyelids, she found him watching her with the heat of passion in his eyes.

“You’re exquisite,” he rasped.

She grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged until his lips were once again on hers. She poured her need into it, taking his lips as he’d taken hers. When she ran a finger down his chest to the waistband of his breeches, she felt his body shudder. Did she have the courage to go lower, to press her palm to the rigid length she knew awaited her?

Stretching out a finger, she touched him, then ran it down and back up the taut ridge of flesh.

Growing bolder, Patience cupped him through his breeches.

“Christ.” He wrenched his mouth free to look down at her. “That’s torture.”

“Good torture, I hope?” she whispered, then pressed a kiss to his chest.

He grunted, which she guessed was assent, so she opened the front of his breeches and slipped her hand inside. So hot and hard. She ran her hand down the length of him and back up again.

“Sweet Christ, Patience,” he rasped, pushing a hand into her hair. “Your touch feels so good it’s almost painful.”

“Peter Pilks prized his pizzle,” she whispered, reciting one of the naughty poems they’d made up. His laugh was more pain than pleasure.

“Take off your clothes, Mathew…please,” she said in a husky voice that made his eyes darken.

In seconds he was naked, and Lord, he was magnificent. Long legs and strong thighs; his body was all muscle. She encased him with her fist once more, stroking and teasing his rigid flesh.

“I love the feel of you, Mathew.”

He closed his eyes as she continued to stroke him. Leaning forward, she kissed his chest, relishing the taste of him. Her tongue flicked over his nipple, making him shudder once more.

“How can you know what I like?” he groaned, fisting a hand in her hair. “For an innocent, you are very well versed.”

“I found a book after my parents died. It’s remarkably well illustrated.” She purred the words against his chest.

“In that case, you know what’s coming.” He grasped her waist and lifted her high, then tossed her onto the bed, following her with his large body. “Take me inside you, Patience.” He opened her legs and settled between them. She felt him pressing against her entrance, seeking, probing.

“It will hurt, sweetheart.”

“I know, but I want it…I want you,” she told him.

He pushed inside her slowly, and she felt her body stretch to accommodate him. The feelings were unlike anything she’d ever experienced, not pain precisely, and not pleasure, but a combination of both.

His body covered hers. Patience had never wanted a man to dominate her, but at that moment she wanted Mathew to claim her, to take her as his. It was raw and honest and when she was rational again, it would probably scare her spitless, but for the moment she slipped her hands around his neck and tugged his hair until their lips met in a hot, searing kiss that she was sure she felt down to her soul.

With one thrust Mathew had entered her completely, and she felt her innocence give way as he seated himself deep inside her. They were one, his body inside hers, and she knew she would never be the same again.

“Patience, are you all right?”

The muscles in his arms tightened, and as he looked down at her, his jaw was clenched and he looked almost savage, completely unlike the gentleman she knew him to be. She felt a rush of pleasure simply looking at him and had the urge to cry, “Take me!” which she barely managed to swallow back down.

Instead, she whispered, “Yes.” Arching up toward him, she touched her lips to his, and he followed her back to the bed, easing out and back in. Her muscles tightened and released him, only to clench again as he thrust back inside. Dear Lord, it felt wonderful. Yes, she was sore; yes, she was stretched, but the feeling of him inside her was exquisite.

“Tell me what you feel,” he rasped.

“I’ve never felt like this.”

“I should hope not.”

His voice wasn’t as light as his words suggested, and she could feel his restraint.

“I don’t want you to hold back, Mathew.” Lifting her legs, she wrapped them around his waist and tightened her grip on him.

“Dear Christ!”

All restraint fled as he drove into her, and she took each thrust and answered it by holding him closer until she felt the delicious tension again and suddenly she was spiraling upwards in ecstasy. Seconds later, Mathew followed.

He collapsed beside her, his chest rising and falling like hers as they struggled to draw breath before trying to make sense of what had just happened. His hand landed on her stomach and she placed hers on top.

“You’re going to marry me, Patience,” he said. “And soon.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“How could you?”

Attempting to placate the irate woman standing before him, Mathew raised his hands palms first. Ignoring the gesture, Patience stalked toward him, chin elevated, a decidedly flinty glare in her cool blue eyes. His body stirred as she drew close. Three days had passed since he’d made love to her, and each day his love for her seemed to strengthen, yet he had not gone to her room again, nor had he told her he loved her, though he wasn’t sure why.

Perhaps because all these emotions were still so new and raw inside him; perhaps because he knew it would expose him if she did not feel the same way.

She had awakened the morning after they had made love and declared that she and her siblings must move back to their own town house now the threat of their cousin was over, but Mathew had stalled her departure, offering a variety of excuses. Then the weather had sided with him, and it had rained solidly since yesterday morning. He didn’t want her to leave, yet knew he could not keep her here indefinitely.

He liked seeing her in his house, knowing that if he looked she would be somewhere nearby. Her laughter wasn’t restrained, but loud and free; her voice was not subdued, but strong, and hearing it here, inside the house that had been quiet for so long, was a wonderful thing.

“Patience, we discussed this and you agreed.”

“We did not discuss it!” She was a snarling, spitting vixen, and this was perhaps the Patience he loved most. She made him feel alive; all his cold places were warm when she challenged him.

“I told you we were going to marry.” They were in his study, and the rain was pelting the window behind her. Luckily she had shut the door, which would allow him to kiss her in privacy.

“I did not consent!”

“You did not disagree, either.”

She was wearing white with blue satin ribbons. He wanted to run his fingers around the bodice of the dress, then slip them inside and cup her breast. She had beautiful breasts, Mathew thought, keeping his eyes on her face. If they slipped lower, she would probably slap him.

“And you decided on the strength of my not disagreeing, when we had just…” She waved a hand about. “Done that. That you should tell my family and yours that we are to marry, and behind my back, no less…”

“‘That’ being, make love?” Mathew kept his face still instead of laughing. She created many emotions inside him; laughter was one, along with frustration and anger, and he cherished each and every one.

“You know what I mean.” Her blue eyes snapped at him.

She had shown no adverse effects after her abduction, and in fact had not mentioned the incident again, but he wondered if in the dark, early hours of the morning she woke remembering the fear, remembering the water closing over her head. She had denied it when he questioned her, but he wasn’t totally convinced. She wouldn’t meet his eyes at the time.

“I had a right to know what you were about, Mathew!”

Her fire made him want to wrap her in his arms and hold her tight and let it consume him. But as he also prized his health, he kept his hands to himself.

She walked toward him, stopping a pace or two away, hands planted on her trim hips. She might be smaller than he and heart-achingly beautiful, but she was also a stubborn, exceedingly determined little wretch. The deceptively ladylike air that surrounded her might fool others, but not he. Mathew had delved deeper into her personality, and was alert on all accounts when faced with his vixen.

“At least listen to my reasons before you start screaming like a harridan,” he reasoned in a calm, rational voice, which he knew would annoy her further. Moving to sit behind his desk so he wouldn’t grab her and wrestle her onto the first available surface, he put a solid piece of wood between her and his ardor. There would be plenty of time during the remainder of their lives together to explore available surfaces and every inch of her luscious body. Pulling his chair under his desk to hide his arousal, he schooled his features into bland composure.

“Harridan?” Patience gasped. “How dare you call me that when what you are is a sneaky….rat,” she ground out, using the first word that slipped into her head. Fearing that if she said anything further, flames would shoot from her mouth, she turned and walked across the room to stare out the large window onto the street below. Rain had been a permanent fixture in London for the past few days; even so, until this morning she had begun to feel that the world was once again set to rights.

The threat of their cousin had ceased and her siblings were happier than they had been in many years. Charlie seemed to walk lighter, his smile now wide and free. She should have insisted on returning to their town house sooner, even if the thought of leaving the man across from her was a discomforting one…well, had been, she amended.

“Your mother came up to me crying, Mathew,” Patience said, remembering the tears in Lady Belmont’s eyes. “She told me how happy she was that we were to wed. How happy my parents would have been were they alive today.”

“There, you see? There is no need for all this, as everyone is pleased about it.”

It was just as well there was a distance between them, as she was suddenly angry enough to lean across it and smack that pleasant expression from Mathew’s face. How dare he treat this so lightly, treat her as irrational? She made her own decisions, and he had not even asked her consent to their betrothal; he had simply gone ahead and told their families.

“Be reasonable, Patience. We made love, and we are friends and care for each other. Of course we will wed, because we are not young, irresponsible people. Even now you could be carrying my child.”

A child? She had not contemplated that, but now that she had, her stomach seemed to flutter at the very thought of a life growing inside her. Mathew’s child. For many years she had wanted to be the woman who carried his children, but now she was conflicted. This was not a declaration of love, it was a business proposal. She should not be hurt, as she had given up long ago on believing she would ever have a man fall at her feet spouting his undying devotion, especially this man—but she was. And what of
her
wishes and choices? Would she no longer have any say in how her life would be run? What of her siblings? Was he now in control of them also?