“This is the first time we’ve been alone together in a fully private place since our wedding night. It would be such a shame to waste the opportunity.” His thumb kept making slow circles around her nipple, and she thought she might die. “I can tell by the way you’re looking at me you that you’re as hungry for me as I am for you.”
“No, I’m not,” she answered, hearing the lie in her own voice.
He pulled her down into a kiss, and she surrendered all too easily, letting him addle her wits with lips and tongue until she no longer knew which way was up. “I have ways of making you confess,” he murmured against her lips before claiming them again.
“Oh? Are you going to put me on the rack?” she asked when he relented at last.
“Far worse than that. Come lie beside me. I need you closer.”
To her consternation, she found herself obeying, slipping off her shoes, and climbing onto the bed to lie beside him. “This is dangerous. What if the guard comes in?”
“You’ll just have to stay very, very quiet while I torture you. Do you think you can do that, Isabella?”
He was kissing down her neck, and she never wanted him to stop. Reaching down, he pulled her dress just high enough to draw slow, lazy circles on her calf. Desire rippled through her.She wanted more, though precisely what she wanted more of, she couldn’t say.
“I’m stronger than you think. You’re a fool if you believe you can break me.” She squirmed beneath his ministrations, restless with the heat coursing through her.
His hand moved higher on her leg, still making slow circles. He brushed the sensitive skin behind her knee, and she gasped. She wanted to feel him everywhere. With wild abandon, she explored his bare chest and back. How could a man be so hard and soft at the same time? Muscles rippled beneath delicious expanses of smooth skin, and she wanted to caress every inch.
“Mmm,” he murmured into her neck. “Keep that up, and I’ll sentence you to twenty lashes with my tongue.”
“And where would you whip me, you scoundrel?”
He grinned and ran his hand up her thigh and she opened herself to his touch, craving so much more. The buzzing heat between her legs was growing almost intolerable. “Make it forty lashes for asking impudent questions. I’ll whip you where you are most sensitive, where the mere touch of my tongue will shatter your resolve into a thousand pieces.” Fingers grazed against damp curls between her legs. Where had all the moisture come from? She could feel it on the insides of her thighs. It was rather embarrassing.
She tried to scoot away, but he pulled her back.
“Do you trust me?” he said, suddenly serious.
“Completely,” she answered without hesitation. It was incredible how quickly he had gained her trust, given how they had started, but after everything that had befallen them, after he had sworn to keep her sister safe and then fought for her against Lord James, her faith in this man was absolute.
His finger slid between her folds, just as they had in the dovecote, and brushed over the nub of flesh that sent an explosion of sparks through every part of her body. Unable tohelp herself, she moaned, and he sealed his lips to hers to swallow the noise, as if he knew she would be unable to hold back.
“And now,” he whispered against her lips, “let the torture begin.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Martin was playinga dangerous game, and he knew it. But he couldn’t stop himself from touching her, caressing her, wanting her. She was within his reach, and he was finally certain of her affection. This was not the time or place to make her fully his, but he needed to make her come apart in his arms—radiant, passionate, and ferocious. He would take a little taste, whet her appetite for things to come, and send her on her way.
As he stroked and teased her, he reveled in the way her body trembled in response—her little gasps, the slick warmth where he was touching her. And she trusted him enough to allow this. It was a miracle, given how they had started. Their courtship had begun as a game he aimed to win, but she had utterly ensorcelled him. There was no thought of winning now, only of cherishing her affection and worshipping her as she deserved.
But her tiny reactions were playing havoc with him, threatening his self-control. She was every bit as magnificent as he had dreamed with her heavily lidded eyes and parted, kiss-stung lips, squirming at his touch. Her nipples pebbled beneath the fabric of her dress as he teased them lightly, making her shiver in delight. The way she was touching him, the naïve exploration of his chest, made him ache with need. But he needed to hold back. He was injured and their privacy was far from assured with a guard right outside the door. His turn would come in time. For the present, he needed to be patient.
“Are you ready for your punishment, temptress?” Without waiting for her response, he flicked his tongue against her earlobe. “One,” he whispered.
Her breath hitched so beautifully as he nuzzled her neck and licked again. “Two.”
“Wha—what are you doing?” she murmured as her whole body shivered against him. He flicked his finger over the bundle of nerves below, and she convulsed. If she could still ask questions, he had work to do.
“I promised you forty lashes, remember?” He traced his tongue delicately down her neck, then blew on it. The whimper it drew forth went straight to his cock. “That makes three,” he whispered, his own breathing wildly uneven and she moved against him, pulling him closer, her fingernails digging into his back.Oh Christ.
He rolled on top of her, allowing himself the momentary relief and torture of pressing his length against her hips. She lifted her legs to welcome him, though layers of fabric lay between them. But even so, it was almost too much to bear.
Claiming her mouth, he delved deep, caressing her tentative tongue with desperate urgency, which she then answered with a fury of her own. She learned quickly, his magnificent queen, and he rocked against her barely able to believe she was his at last. If this kept up, he was going to lose control and embarrass himself. Pulling back, he whispered, “four.”
“Five, six, seven,” he said, drawing back and kissing and licking his way down from her collarbone to the cleft between her ample breasts, so enticing in the soft candlelight. He’d dreamed of her surrender, but the reality far surpassed his imagination. It was like sipping mead, honey and intoxication drowning out all thought of anything but drinking her in.
“Eight.” He nipped at her bare shoulder.
