Page 18 of The Secret of My Seduction
Too late. There was no time to change her plan. The vehicle stopped and the driver opened the door. Clutching her cloak in one hand, she stepped down and took her valise before turning to the door. Her shoes crunched on the gravel, and her breathing seemed just as loud.
The door opened and she stopped in her tracks. Liam gazed at her, his expression aloof. He was dressed as informally as before, the silk banyan over his trousers and shirt, but there was no welcome in his eyes.
“Good evening,” she said.
He gave a short nod and held the door for her. Bathsheba stepped inside and let him take her valise. In the moment his back was turned to close the door and set the bag down, she untied her cloak and let it fall. Liam turned and froze.
“You said to wear nothing at all, but I thought this was quite fetching,” she said, holding her shoulders stiffly back as his gaze slid over her. She wore a nightdress, but one unlike anything else she’d ever owned. It was made of the sheerest, finest cotton lawn, with slender straps over her shoulders, a fitted bodice more meant to push up and display her breasts than conceal them, and a flowing skirt that was slit past her knees in front. It was virtually transparent and had cost more than she would have spent in a month on the butcher bill, but standing there, just shy of naked with her hair streaming loose down her back as Liam stared in open hunger, Bathsheba thought it was worth it.
“Lovely,” he said at last. He stepped up close, so close she faltered a step backward to keep her balance. Defiantly she raised her gaze to meet his. The remote closed look had gone from his face. “And convenient,” he whispered, trailing his fingertips down her bare arms. Bathsheba shivered. His fingers encircled her wrists as he pressed her back against the wall.
She had resolved not to question anything he did tonight. Let him teach her what he would. He knew her body better than she did, it seemed, and she didn’t want the affair to end—not yet, not ever. If it made her a coward or weak, she had already admitted that: she was weak where he was concerned. And for tonight, at least, she wouldn’t fight it.
He pinned her hands above her head with one hand and let his other hand run down her body. He cupped her breast, scraping his nail over her nipple, already erect. She shivered, and a faint, wicked smile touched his lips. Down her ribs, over her hips his hand went, drawing up the hem of her nightdress until it was bunched around her waist. He bent his knees, and for a startled moment she thought he meant to use his mouth again, making her stand this time, but instead he caught her knee and lifted it up, up, up until she was dependent on him to stay upright.
He released her hands. “Hold on to my shoulders,” he commanded, his voice rough and low. “That’s it,” he whispered as she clutched at him. Her knee still hooked over his arm, he reached between her spread legs and touched her.
Bathsheba jolted. He pressed against her, his weight holding her to the wall as his fingers played on her exposed center. She had to gulp for breath; unlike other times he wasn’t easing her along but pushing her, pulling her, driving her onward. “Liam,” she gasped, her hips jerking involuntarily. “Wait—”
“Stop?” He went still, and a spasm of longing shook her. Without a word she shook her head. He resumed, resting his cheek against her temple and murmuring that she should scream as loudly as she pleased, there was no one to hear but him, and hewantedto make her scream, he wouldn’t stop until she did, he knew how to make her come so hard she wouldn’t be able to stop herself—
Panting, her head buzzing, Bathsheba shook in his grip, feeling her climax building with frightening speed. He had pinned her open and defenseless to his wicked fingers but she wouldn’t have stopped him for the world. If he stopped she would have fallen to her knees to beg, so long as he gave her what her body wanted—needed—
It hit her like a wave. She arched her neck and gave a long, thin cry of release. Liam adjusted his hold on her, yanked at his trousers, and then her cry was cut short as he thrust inside her, hard and deep and so thick, she gasped in astonishment. “Go on,” he growled, and thrust again. Again. Bathsheba saw stars even before he resumed that firm insistent stroke on what felt like the nexus of every nerve in her body. Another wave slammed into her, knocking her breathless, and another. He was panting, too, and yanked his arm from under her leg to curl around her shoulders as he drove into her, harder and faster until she was clinging to him with arms and legs and oblivious to anything but the scorching pleasure of his body moving with hers.
On the last ripple of climax, Liam swore violently under his breath, and slammed her against the wall one last time, holding himself deep within her. Wrung out and dazed, Bathsheba could only hold on and wonder what had happened.
After a moment, he lifted his head. “Brisk and efficient,” he whispered, his words hot on her ear. “As you wished.” She was too weak to do more than give a slight nod of acknowledgment. “Do you want lesson three now, to compare?” he added, with a swipe of his tongue on the sensitive skin beneath her ear.
Oh God.Lesson three. More pleasure. More of Liam. He was still inside her, remarkably big. He had invaded and conquered her, almost without a word, and even though she would never admit it aloud, he had stolen her heart as well. Again she gave a slight nod.
He stepped away, disengaging from her before he fastened a button on his trousers, then to her surprise he caught her up in his arms.
Liam carried her up the stairs to his bedroom. The way she curled her arms around his neck and rested her cheek against his chest drove the final stake into his heart. He was mad for this woman. It was like she’d been made for him. His last resistance, his last doubt, had disintegrated when she took off her cloak to reveal a transparent nightdress that would have incited riots. Her breasts, so pert and perfect; her soft belly and round hips; the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. And her long silky hair, falling over his arm. She might only want him for what he could give her in bed, but he could build on that until she agreed with him: they were meant for each other.
He set her down on the thick carpet in front of the fireplace and stripped off his clothes. Her nightdress was barely clothing at all, so he left it on for the moment. Bathsheba watched him, her gaze fascinated but somehow vulnerable.
“No questions tonight?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. Whatever you want to teach me, I want to learn. Your way has been better than anything I could have asked for.”
His heart jumped. That was promising. “I am glad it met your hopes.”
Something flickered in her eyes. “You must know it has surpassed every one of my hopes.”
Do you know it has only raised mine?He didn’t say it, not yet. He wanted to give her one last lesson in pleasure before he broached the topic that had bedeviled him all week. If she didn’t like his proposal, at least he would have this night with her.
“Come here.” He reached for her hand, then tugged her closer. He folded his arms around her, her back to his chest, and took a long inhale with his face against her lavender-scented hair. When he prepared the room, before he’d been fully confident she would arrive, he had lit a pair of lamps. Now he wished he’d lit every lamp in the house and placed them all in this room so he could see every fleeting expression that dashed across her face, every inch of her body as he made her his. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “For what happened downstairs.”
She stiffened. “There is no need—”
“You dropped the cloak and blew apart my plans.” He slid one finger under the strap of her wispy-thin nightdress and eased it down her shoulder. “This is bewitching.”
The tension melted from her shoulders. “Do you like it? Better than my brown velvet or green cotton?”
“Much better.” He applied his mouth to the slope of her bare shoulder, letting his finger drift down to her breast. The gauzy cloth did nothing to obscure how rosy and pert her nipple was. “You should patronize that modiste for your entire wardrobe.”
“Oh my.” Her laugh was shaky and more like a sigh of pleasure as his palm cupped her breast, his thumb teasing the peak. “I could never afford Madame Follette’s for everything…”
