Dangerous in Diamonds - Madeline Hunter [47]
“I do not fear scandal so much anymore. When I was young it terrified me. Ruled me. However, maturity brings a new perspective to such matters.”
“Then what is it that you fear?”
“Do not pretend that you do not know.”
“A week ago I would have said you were afraid of me, but now I am wondering if perhaps you fear yourself instead.”
She dared not turn her head, because he would see her surprise at his insight. He was also too close now, so close that his breath feathered her ear. He turned her hand on his own and stretched his fingers between hers so he held her fast.
Her own breath jumped around inside her, not knowing where to go. She wanted to close her eyes and relish the lovely stirrings in her body.
“I am not afraid of you.” Not truly. Not in the sense that he might physically harm her.
Right now, tonight, with the stars above and the breeze teasing her, with the wine making her lighthearted and with romance in the air, the many reasons for resisting his temptation seemed part of a different, distant world.
“Perhaps it is pleasure itself that you fear and the loss of your careful composure.” The words whispered in her ear, so low they might be her own thoughts. His breath, so close, became an irresistible tease.
And still the barge floated back and forth. It would continue doing so until he signaled otherwise, she knew. Her friends would not return either until that happened. They would continue indulging in marital bliss, moved by the wine and the night and the stars and their love, until the barge clearly turned to go upriver.
The deep, sensual purr inside her overwhelmed attempts to scold herself. A subversive notion entered her thoughts instead—that he would lose interest once he won his game, and therefore surrender might not be so foolish. That her resistance only intensified his pursuit. But more than anything, a poignant ache made her weak and unable to remember why she had to deny herself.
A kiss most discreet, on her hand. A small thing, yet it shook her to her essence. Another, on her shoulder, and a hand sliding her shawl down before one more scorched the skin there. He embraced her shoulders and kissed again, this time the crook of her neck.
Heaven help her, she savored every sensation. She closed her eyes so she could revel totally. Further kisses on her neck, on her skin and hair, did glorious things to her, unbearably wonderful things. The wine had demolished her best defenses, and these small lures too easily breached what was left.
She did not resist when his embrace lowered and drew her closer nor when his kisses claimed her mouth. She was glad the pleasure did not sweep her away to some unearthly realm, because she ached to feel everything. She dwelled on the warm, dry pressure of his lips and relished how inner shudders flowed down her body.
Misgivings could not survive such a sensual onslaught. They sank beneath a euphoria born of intimacy and delight and pleasure. Astonishing pleasure. With each sensation more powerful than the last, pleasure stole her breath and made her hunger for more.
Her lover knew what he was about. That small thought entered her mind as she submitted to the art of those kisses, to the way he used his mouth and tongue and even his teeth. It intruded once more when he began to caress her. His hands knew just what to do, just how to move. She waited for the masculine press against her body, and her wanton desire impatiently urged more scandalous touches.
His caress moved up her side, skimming the outer swell of her breast. A jolt of excitement drenched with anticipation shot through her, then lowered and pooled in shocking places. The caress smoothed over until he cupped her breast, and delirium descended. He withheld what she wanted for a torturous minute, so long that she wanted to weep or curse him. Finally, finally, the caress she craved sent shimmers through her body.
She luxuriated