Page 41 of The Devil's Bargain
“One attempt at kindness doesn’t change anything,” she whispered. “You’re still the worst kind of man.”
“Truly?” His thumb traced her bottom lip. “Then why are you not pushing me away?”
When his mouth claimed hers, she told herself she allowed it only to toy with him, to have power over him.
But there was nothing calculated about how her body melted into his, how her lips parted beneath the insistent pressure of his tongue. He tasted of brandy and desire, and something darker that made her head spin.
He carried her onto the bed, laying her down close to the edge. Her skirts rustled as he stepped between her thighs. “Do youknow how many times I’ve imagined this?” he breathed against her throat. “How many nights I’ve lain awake thinking about making you come apart in my arms?”
“Devlin...” His name emerged as a broken plea as his teeth grazed her pulse point.
“Say it again,” he demanded roughly. “I love how my name sounds on your lips when you’re desperate for my touch.”
She should have been outraged by his presumption. Instead, she found herself arching into his hand as it slid up her thigh. “Please...”
“Please what?” His fingers traced maddening patterns on her skin through her stockings. “Tell me what you want, my brilliant Caroline.”
“I want...” But coherent thought scattered as his hand slipped higher, finding the sensitive flesh above her garter.
“Your body betrays you,” he murmured, his fingers discovering her wetness. “So responsive, so eager, even as you pretend to hate me.”
She caught his wrist, stilling his motion. “I do hate you.”
“No.” He pressed his forehead to hers, his voice roughening. “You hate that you want me. You hate that I can make you feel like this. But you don’t hate me.”
“You’re insufferably arrogant—”
She swallowed her protest when he exposed her breast and his mouth cupped her tight nub. She couldn’t stifle her moan as he played her body like a maestro, each touch precisely calibrated to drive her mad with need. Her hands clutched his shoulders as his tongue licked her flesh wickedly, pleasure coiling tighter in her core.
His groan rumbled through her chest as her fingers found her bud and began rubbing. His hands grasped her breasts, her ass, his teeth grazing her tight nipples. Then he opened his falls andfreed his member, wrapping his long fingers around his thick girth with a sigh of relief.
Nudging her fingers away, his tongue moved wickedly against her swollen bud while his hand stroked his cock. His tongue was hot against her cunny, her hips rocking rhythmically against his mouth. She knew how to find her pleasure, and that seemed to please him. Her breathing and moans became more erratic as his groans reverberated through her silken depth.
“That’s it,” he breathed against her pussy. “Let go for me. Show me how beautiful you are when you surrender.”
The word ‘surrender’ pushed her over the edge. She shattered against his mouth, his name a broken cry on her lips as waves of pleasure washed over her. He followed shortly after, looming over her as he stroked profusely and spent on her belly. With a guttural sound of release from deep in his chest, Devlin lurched forward, one hand supporting himself on the bed while the other squeezed the last drop of orgasm from his rod.
When awareness returned, Caroline’s head was somehow cradled against his chest, his heart thundering beneath her cheek. The intimacy of the moment scared her more than the passion had.
“This doesn’t change anything,” she repeated.
His laugh rumbled through his chest. “Keep telling yourself that, my love.” He pressed a kiss to her temple that seemed to signify their marriage more than what had come before. “But we both know everything has already changed.”
As she watched him leave the bed chamber to return to his study, Caroline realised with growing dismay that he was right. Everything had changed, and there was no going back.
Caroline sat alone in her bed, arms wrapped around herself. His revelation about his childhood had cracked something in her carefully constructed hatred. But understanding his pain didn’t erase her own. Knowing why he’d forced her into marriagedidn’t make it right. She lay down, pulling the covers tight around her, trying to ignore how cold and large the bed felt without his presence.
19
The Devil’s Heart
Devlin paused in the doorway of Caroline’s study, struck by the sight of her bent over her drafting table. A single lamp cast her in golden light as she worked, copper highlights gleaming in her loosened hair. Her usual rigid posture had softened with exhaustion, and something in her vulnerability made his chest tighten.
“It’s well past midnight,” he said softly.
She startled, her hand flying to her throat. “Devlin! I didn’t hear you.”
He moved closer, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes, the ink stains on her fingers. Technical drawings covered every surface—her latest modifications to the filtration system.
