Page 83 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
“Could you now?” she teased. Truth be told, so could she.
He quietly nudged the door closed behind him with his foot, then carried her across the room. Gently, he placed her atop his bed before returning to the door to fasten the lock. When he turned back to her, a spark lit his eyes.
“Perhaps I shall carry you to my bed each and every night. This might well become a habit.”
What a wonderfully romantic thought.Belle nibbled her lip.At least until we’re both old and our bones are quite creaky.
Oh, she was letting her hopes run wild, wasn’t she? Envisioning a life with Jon—a life in which they would grow old and cranky and creaky together—was a pleasant daydream. But she had to be realistic. She had to focus on the present. On the moments they would share. On the sweet memories they would make on this one delicious night.
He shrugged off the robe and carelessly tossed it over the back of a chair. Watching him intently, she pushed herself up on her elbows. The sconce on the wall cast a golden illumination over the chamber, lending a striking contrast of light and shadows to the contours of his body.
Oh, my.It wasn’t as if she’d never seen him without his shirt. It wasn’t even as if they’d never kissed or touched or tempted fate before. In New York, they’d shared many heady moments.
But never had she ever seen him look at her quite the way he looked at her at that moment. The intensity in his gaze made her mouth go even drier than the sight of his chiseled form and set her pulse racing. A primal anticipation coursed through her, tempered by a twinge of apprehension.
She gulped a breath, steadying herself. It wouldn’t do for her to make him think she was frightened. After all, this was what she wanted. What she craved. What she needed.
But it was so very new. And a bit disconcerting. She knew the elements of what she thought was about to happen between them. Her mother had hadthattalk with her—brief and awkward as it had been—quite some time ago. But she didn’t quite know what to do. What was the acceptable sequence of events? It wasn’t as though Mama had described the precise manner in which to seduce a man. Or to be seduced by him, for that matter.
Lying there on his bed, she allowed her gaze to drink him in. By Athena’s spear, he was a handsome man. A true feast for her eyes. The slightly wanton thought brought a little smile to her lips. And tonight, he would be hers. She would savor each and every delicious moment in his arms. And nature would take its course. Wouldn’t it?
She watched him without shyness as he quietly stalked toward the bed. His dark trousers hung low, revealing carved hipbones and a line of dark hair—perhaps even darker than thehair that feathered over the muscles of his broad chest—that trailed beneath the waist of the pants. She couldn’t quite explain why, even to herself, but she longed to touch the sleek muscle of his upper body, the strong biceps and powerful, athletic chest and flat, muscled abdomen.
She’d expected he would come to her then. She’d envisioned him joining her on the bed and making love to her.
Instead, he studied her, the slightest of smiles curving his full mouth. “Tell me the truth, Belle—are you nervous?”
She couldn’t lie. He would see right through her. “Yes. I suppose I am.”
“That’s natural, love.” His voice was low and edged with gravel. “I’ve had my own battle with nerves.”
She blinked with surprise. He was a rogue. A man of the world. And yet, he was standing before her, telling her that he was not as unwaveringly confident as one might’ve thought.How very surprising. And delightful.“You have?”
“At this very moment, my heart is pounding.” He prowled onto the bed, close enough that she could touch him. Very slowly and gently, he took her hand and pressed it to his chest. “Feel that, Belle. Feel the effect you have on me.”
The strong throb of his heart radiated through his chest and against her palm. “At this moment, my heart beats for you.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “Ah, my Arabelle. It’s every moment of every blasted day.”
His hands went to the tie on her dressing gown. He met her eyes, waiting. And when she nodded, he untied the robe. With exquisite gentleness, he peeled away the fabric that had covered her.
As she lay before him, she felt her nipples pebble against the delicate fabric of her chemise. When he spoke, his voice was husky and roughened with emotion. “I want to touch you,darling.” He drew his fingers over the curve of her still-closed breast. “I want to kiss you, my sweet Belle.”
“Oh, yes,” she said on a little moan.
Slowly, he unbuttoned the tiny fasteners at the top of the thin gown. His gaze heated as he exposed her to his eyes. And then, he caressed her with his hands and his lips until she was wild with sensation. Wild with wanting.
“Ah, Belle, I want to see you.” He kissed her, unleashing a fresh current of passion. “All of you.”
“Yes,” she murmured. “I’d like that.”
As he eased the chemise over her, she shimmied out of the garment. With a little smile at the sense of freedom, she took the cotton gown in one hand and tossed it aside.
Never had she felt so very free. Lying on his bed, completely bared to his eyes, it felt so natural. So very right.
Heat warmed his gaze. He cupped his fingers beneath her chin and kissed her, a soft, lingering caress that spoke of wanting and adoration. “So, love, are you ready to be wicked?”
“Of course,” she murmured. “Not so very wicked, I suppose.”
“I won’t do anything you do not want me to do.”
