Page 4 of The Scent of Snow
The kaleidoscope of Pedro's eyes turned from inwards to outwards, his gaze now focused on her. Solely on her. A thrill jolted down her spine, not unlike prey that caught the predator's attention, and she retreated until her back met the recamier. His first step forward made her heart stop. The second made it stumble against her ribs. His arms snaked around her. Her body arched for him.
"Ana," he said, breathing fire on her lips.
It was the voice he used for her alone — threat and invitation. Goosebumps danced across her skin, her body craving what usually followed those two syllables.
She should make him talk. Understand his worries. Still, it was in moments like this, when he came to her with no words and troubled eyes, that she felt the power of his need for her. So she opened her arms and let him consume her.
Pedro didn't remember coming to her morning room. For minutes or hours, he stood in the shadows — his body, the empty shell. Soldiers learned it from prisoners of war. They called it double-think. The ability to shift reality and escape inescapable situations. He had mastered it much sooner. A side effect of the Duke of Titano's lessons. And sometimes, he couldn't come back.
"What's wrong?" Cold hands on his cheeks.
Her lips opened and closed, but he couldn't understand her.
She grabbed his shoulders. He didn't flinch. It was Anne, and Anne was safe. In a fragmented world, where memories drifted, each in their own glass shards, that knowledge was embedded deep. He clung to it.
She shook him slightly, given her slight frame. Her mouth moved rapidly now. Words came from a far place, but even from the distance, he could sense her growing unease. Her distress was unacceptable. He jerked his head, trying to regain perception.
She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him. The shock of her lips reverberated through him with the force of a church bell. He pulled away, startled, and then he kissed her back. Another shock, and this time, her scent, roses, and rain, filled his being, expelling the shadows.
Pedro caged her face and drank her in.
Pins scattered across the floor as he fought with the restrictions binding her hair. Closing his eyes, he rubbed the strands against his cheek. Backing her away from the door, he aimed his efforts at the clothes she wore. His fingers were defeated by the buttons and fastenings. His sanity depended on feeling her skin against his. He turned her around and ripped the fabric.
A little gasp escaped her lips as she stood before him, clad in pantalets and stockings. Without taking his eyes off her, Pedro yanked at his coat, cravat, shirt, the ruby studs clattering to the floor. Finally, he could embrace her and, with his chest bared, arrive at his sanctuary. Pedro took a deep, shuddering breath.
He could see colors now — the champagne of her hair, the rose of her lips, her Atlantic blue eyes. He touched a dusky nipple, brought it to his lips, drank from it. He saw the curve of her neck, leaned forward, and nibbled on it. He delved into her and glued his fractured pieces back together. Anne was this to him, the glue that kept his broken shards in one place.
Pedro kissed her, sweeping his tongue inside her mouth, searching for her taste. When he closed his eyes, his soul threatened to leave him again.
Anne pulled away. "What's wrong?"
Pedro shook his head. Anne's gaze sought the depths of his soul. She searched for the man she had wanted to marry — unbroken. What would she do if she glimpsed the fragments still inside?
"Something happened. You can tell me."
How could he tell her he was The Duke of Titano now? He wasn't.
Instead of words he couldn't say, he offered her something else. Pedro knelt in front of her on the carpet. Hooking his hand under her knee, he placed her foot atop the chaise. Reverently, he trailed his fingers over a thigh wrapped in ivory silk and lilac ribbon. Even in her lingerie, Anne was pure, and he, the blackguard who deflowered her every night.
Slowly, he made the garter travel down her long leg. He peeled the stocking, brushing his mouth against the welts left by the ribbon, his lips pulled away by the traction, and he skimmed his teeth up her calf and bit her thigh. Anne shuddered, a blush of desire painting her skin.
The translucent cotton of her drawer revealed the golden thatch of hair above her mound, and Pedro caressed her, marveling at the silky texture.
Snaking his arms around her hips, he grasped her buttocks and brought her closer.
Her arousal perfumed the air, and Pedro filled his lungs with her dew and flower.
Pedro opened the aperture of the drawer. Anne moaned and placed her hands above his shoulders. Heart speeding up, he licked the folds of her sex, and finding the pearl of her desire, he sucked at it greedily.
When her hips stirred, demanding more friction, Pedro penetrated her with his tongue, and she cried out, the climax making her shudder.
She sagged against him, her breaths warming his shoulder blades. Pedro removed her other stocking.
And rose.
She gave him a dreamy smile and brushed the hair from his cheek. "Take me to bed?"
He brought the ribbon close to her face.
