Tonight or Never (35 page)

There were pink roses filling the air with their scent; pots of fragrant French lavender, with its gray, fringed leaves and tiny, bluish-purple buds; fragrant jasmine hung in overflowing baskets from above, its delicate blossoms the color of moonlight. It was said the intoxicating
fra-grance
held magical properties at night. Breathing deeply of the glorious aroma, Chloe could well believe it.

Her gaze took in true myrtle as well, the large, brilliant white blooms emitting a spicy scent that fired the senses.

Interspersed in pots were
Grandmere's
herbs: rosemary, thyme, French basil—there were too many for her to name, although she was learning to distinguish them all.

John drew her down to the floor.

They were surrounded by a sea of flowers bathed in moonlight.

A white stone fountain—its cherub pouring out a continuous ewer of trickling water—gurgled in the corner. They were in the center of a night garden, a magical kingdom of lush serenity.

They knelt facing each other.

Silently John began to undo the buttons on the back of her dress. Chloe reached over to slip his jacket off his shoulders.

He gathered her dress in his hands and lifted it over her head. She undid his waistcoat, then his shirt, sliding them off.

He kissed her then, his muscular arms coming around her to pull her tight to his naked chest. The thin cotton of her chemise acted as the scantiest barrier to touch, adding to, rather than detracting from, the sensation. Her hands smoothed over his shoulders, feeling the contained strength under the warm, golden skin of his masculine structure.

The touch of his mouth brought with it tiny shivers cresting throughout her body.

John released her from his embrace, sitting back on his haunches once more. He drew her chemise over her head, removing it along with the rest of the items she wore.

Wordlessly, he ran his fingers through her hair, removing the pins that held it in place, so that it tumbled freely down her back.

She knelt in front of him, naked in a night of flowers.
Waiting for him.
Moonlight shining through the tall windows shimmered around her.

John had never seen anything more lovely; he drew in a sharp breath.

Fingers skimmed the band of his breeches, her nimble hands dipping under the placket to release the buttons.

The feel of her fingers lightly brushing him there as she went about her task seemed to him one of the most erotic experiences he had ever had. A simple thing like that and it moved him so much…

When she finished with the buttons, her hands slipped inside the material at his sides and slid down his backside, until she was gently cupping his buttocks in her palms.

Closing his eyes at the tactile sensation, John dipped his head and captured her mouth in a savory, burning kiss.

She returned his kiss, slipping the breeches off his hips entirely so that she could rub against him—skin to skin.

A rough, gravelly sound of approval vibrated from him to her.

He released her to tug off his boots quickly and remove his breeches. Taking their clothes, he scattered them across the stone floor, making a unique pallet out of the combined materials. Then he carefully laid her down on the bed he had made.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked tenderly.

"Yes." She smiled softly up at him.

"Good—we might be here awhile." He winked roguishly at her.

A dimple popped into her cheek. "If I know you, my lord—and I do—I would say a great while."

"You underestimate me," he drawled.

Chloe's eyes widened.

Spotting one of
Grandmere's
worktables by the window, John got up and went over to it. He picked up several of the small, dark bottles she had left, examining the contents of each of them by pulling the stoppers and sniffing.

"This one, I think," he declared, carrying it with him back to her.

At that moment the first rays of dawn broke the horizon, streaming through the east windows, capturing him in a wash of golden light as he stood naked among the exotic hothouse blooms.

It was such an erotic, sensual picture that Chloe knew she would retain the memory of it forever.
Her private portrait of the Viscount Sexton.

He knelt down beside her.

Chloe frowned. "What are you going to do with the oil, John?"

"You'll see," he replied mysteriously as he cradled the small bottle between his palms to heat the contents.

The broad palm of his hand rested against the center of her chest, effectively keeping her in a supine position.

Taking the dropper out, he held it above her and released the warm oil drop by drop.

Chloe immediately recognized the woodsy scent as John's personal fragrance. She was pondering why he had chosen that particular one when the flat of his hand—the one on her chest—began a circular motion, rubbing the oil into her skin.

"Oh, that feels lovely."

He acknowledged her compliment with a tiny curve of his lips.

Chloe swallowed. He was up to something…

Before he continued, his fingertips brushed the red curls between her legs, spreading her nether lips. Bending over, he gently placed a soft kiss there.

Chloe trembled in reaction to the passionate gesture.

"Forgive me." His green eyes glittered in the early light. "I got carried away."

The rogue didn't look like he wanted forgiveness.
For anything.

Just the points of his fingers skated over her skin, soothing her with a light stroke.
Over her collarbone, across the sensitized peaks of her breasts, skipping lightly over the plane of her torso, swirling around her hipbones, down the sides of her thighs and her calves, to the responsive arch of her foot.

Wherever he touched, a wash of warm, woodsy oil soaked into her skin.

Putting down the dropper, John took her foot in his hands and began to knead the muscles and tendons with a rare skill.

His two thumbs pressed in and stroked up the center line of her foot, igniting key pleasure points along the sole of her foot. Cupping her heel, he rotated it into the palm of his hand, loosening every tight muscle in her body.

Chloe melted like butter in the sun.

When he was through with one foot, he placed it flat against his warm chest for safekeeping while he proceeded to attend the other one.

"I can't tell you how good that feels, especially after dancing all night."

He simply smiled again, saying nothing.

Chloe bit her lip; he was definitely up to something.

Soon his capable hands began stroking their way up the entire length of her body, massaging, kneading as they went, until she was so relaxed, she wondered if she could force herself to move.

When John reached her shoulders, he neatly turned her over. He brushed her hair off her back with the edge of his hand.

Picking up the dropper again, he dripped oil down her back, over her buttocks, across the backs of her knees…

Then the flats of his hands were on her—massaging in deep, firm strokes—shoulders to back.

She felt the oil slide down the underside of her breasts; his hands followed the track, slipping underneath her from behind.

Chloe held her breath but he didn't stay long—just long enough to heighten her sensitivity by rotating her hardened nipples in the palm of his hands.

More oil… more caressing.

She was so languorous from his ministrations that it took her a few moments to realize he was rubbing the oil in with more than his hands!

John had brought his body over hers. The entire length of his body slid the oil against her as he pressed down on her at intermittent points. She was covered by his oil and him.

Heated lips brushed down the curve of her spine to the small of her back. She jumped when a hot tongue lightly grazed her buttocks.

"J-John," she choked out.

"
Mmm
?"
Male teeth nipped her right buttock.

Chloe scooted away from him and turned over onto her back.

He chuckled low. "However do you expect to be a female rake, sweet, when you get so embarrassed at certain things?"

Chloe's face flamed.
"Never mind that!
I-I… it's none of your business!"

He arched a brow. "No?"

Chloe did not like the look on his face. She swallowed.
"N-no."

He just smiled again.

Chloe watched him curiously.

He broke off the stem of a yellow flower from a nearby plant. "What do you call this flower?"

"It is called immortelle, or the everlasting flower—some call it sun gold. I believe
Grandmere
uses it in your fragrance mix."

"Everlasting flower," he murmured, leaning over her to brush the ball-shaped blossoms over her lips. Bracing himself with one arm on the floor, he gathered her to him with the other. His mouth very gently took hers.

"So that's what the sun tastes like on your lips," he whispered.

Chloe shivered at his words. He dipped his head again, taking another taste of her.

John scattered the small blossoms on the pallet he had made for them.
"An everlasting bed for you, my lady wife."

He lowered her to the pallet once more, turning her on her side to lie nestled into him. His strong arms encircled her waist from behind, pulling her taut to him. Burning hot male skin adjoined hers from neck to shoulder.

Silken lips began laving the rounded edge of her shoulder. One hand massaged her breast while the other dipped between her legs.

Chloe nuzzled back into him. John was in an odd mood this eve, but if it was causing this bout of amorous behavior, Chloe reasoned that it couldn't be a bad thing. Normally her husband was extraordinarily sensual; tonight he seemed to be making new inroads on his own record.

He laved and suckled the curve of her shoulder.
"Chloe?"

"Yes, John?" She moaned.

"Are you keeping something from me?" Before she could answer, he entered her swiftly from behind.
A smooth, sure stroke.

Chloe froze at his question and gasped at his action. This was dangerous. "No, of course not," she managed to squeak.

He ran his hot mouth up the side of her throat. "Are you sure?"

"Yes… yes, I'm sure." She moaned. Her hands grabbed tightly onto the muscular arms encircling her.

Assuredly, John slid into her twice more,
then
withdrew. Unexpectedly, his hands at her shoulders rolled her over onto her back.

Chloe looked up at him questioningly as he rose over her.

"Because if I was to keep something from you, you'd know, wouldn't you, Chloe-cat?" His powerful thigh separated her legs as he found a spot for himself in between.

She swallowed. His eyes told the whole story. Intense, darkened, focused. John had a specific mission.

Chloe knew she was in trouble.

"Wouldn't you?" he prompted while licking busily at the rosy bud of her breast.

"I-I suppose so."

"I know so." He slid into her with a long, deep thrust.

They both groaned.

Chloe closed her eyes as he filled her, the sensation of having John inside her always overwhelming.

"Look at me, Chloe."

Her eyes fluttered open, dilated and passion dazed.
For him
.
For a moment, John couldn't breathe as their gazes met.

His voice was very husky when he said, "Kiss me, my lady… kiss me." He dipped his head to her, his honey hair falling forward to brush her shoulders.

"Oh, John," Chloe responded tremulously.

"Don't hold anything back from me, sweet; give yourself to me."

Chloe shook in response; she definitely was in trouble here. "I am, John; I am."

He moved languorously inside her. "No. You're not."

"John, please—"

"Surrender into me, Chloe; don't be afraid. I'll carry us both." He tenderly rocked back and forth inside her.

Surrender?

Sometimes it went along with
conquer and seduce
. Terms of what a rake does… Chloe tried to marshal the strength of purpose she needed to maintain with him. "I… I—"

"This is something I can't take from you, Chloe; you must give it."

What is he referring to exactly
? A tiny line furrowed her brow. "Is this part of what you said you would show me—something I need to know about men and women together?"

He sighed heavily. "No. This is something I want.
From you."

Now she was really worried. "I don't know what it is you mean," she said evasively.

John pressed into her tightly and rotated his hips.