Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
Sweet Pastries
J ames was trying not to drive like a madman through the town. His grip on the reins was unrelenting. If he didn’t keep his hand in check, he would do something too reckless even for him. He didn’t know what he expected from the night. This was the first time in his dishonest life that he had asked a lady to sneak out with him.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t this.
Not her draped in black temptation, in that scandalously torn dress that revealed the flesh he wanted to devour so badly. She had no idea, no idea what she was doing to him, sitting right next to him, her perfume tickling his nose, her thighs brushing against his with every little bump on the road. And that kiss…
Diana didn’t know how lucky she was that he had more self-restraint than he himself knew. He almost took her right there, against the curricle. He wanted to.
God, how he wanted to!
But he had even more delicious things in mind than a quick, heated tumble out in the open. And he was a man who knew how to enjoy the good things in life. And right now, she was the best thing.
“Are you usually this quiet when you steal a woman into the night?” Diana asked, breaking the silence.
“But I didn’t steal you, My Lady. You came to me. Willingly.”
Diana blushed, and he smirked. He might have made the proposal, but she was an accomplice. She accepted it.
“Details. Anyway, where are we headed?”
“I have a small manor in the city. It’s not empty, but it’s quiet. We will be alone there,” James said with a dark promise.
James expected her to blush or jump up at the innuendo. But it seemed that this night, he was the one being taught control. Diana smiled. A knowing smile. He urged the horses to go even faster.
The small estate was up ahead. Ashbrook House has been in his mother’s family for generations, and now it was his. It was a cute, little house that had nothing of the grandeur of the Pembroke estate or his residence here in London. It was, above all, charming.
He had ordered some of his servants to prepare everything for the night and then leave. Only the steward stayed in the house that was rarely used, but tonight he, too, was given leave to spend the night elsewhere.
James wanted Diana all to himself, away from prying eyes.
He stopped the curricle and went to help her down. She took his hand graciously as she pulled down her hood, admiring the place. James felt a little pang in his heart when he saw her admire something that felt a little too intimate to him.
“This is so beautifully charming,” she remarked.
“I am glad you like it.”
Diana looked up at him. Perhaps their previous encounters had given the illusion of something rushed, something to be stolen on dimly lit balconies, against the trees of St. James Park, inside dubious gazebos. But this time was different. James had every intention of wringing every last drop of pleasure from her body that night.
He guided her inside the house. The entrance hall was warm, inviting, with polished wood and a staircase leading to the upper floors. The air smelled faintly of cedar and the lingering scent of something sweet.
“Come,” James said after he took her cloak.
“You say we are alone?”
“Yes, My Lady. There isn’t much stuff here anyway.”
Diana followed him.
“So, you don’t use this place that often? But why? It’s so endearing!”
James’s hands twitched. This was his mother’s favorite getaway.
But he could not afford to let his thoughts wander, so he mustered all his rakish charm.
“And I shall endeavor to make it even more endearing.”
The dining room was already set. There was a small table near the fireplace—intimate, not formal. Candlelight flickered over silverware, and crystal glasses gleamed. But Diana noticed none of it.
James smiled contentedly to himself. On the table, there was an assortment of cold meat and cheese, but the main course was the array of pastries. He had seen how Diana enjoyed them, how her eyes lit up when she looked upon sweets, how she nibbled on them with delight.
“You… You did all this?” She didn’t fail to notice the gesture.
“Well, I pay people to do things. I would not call myself a skilled cook.”
“Still…” Diana titled her head, regarding him.
The way she looked at him made his chest tighten. A tightness that had nothing to do with desire.
“You approve, My Lady?”
“I shall have to try them first.” She smiled.
James had almost forgotten why they were there. Almost . They had eaten a light dinner, and conversation just flowed so easily. Only when Diana decided to turn her attention to the sweets did James suffer. He watched her pink tongue dart out slowly and melt the sugared pastry.
She was savoring each lick, sometimes closing her eyes in delight and lightly moaning. James has never been jealous of a pastry and never wanted to be one so much.
Then, they moved to the velvet settee before the fireplace, wine glasses in hand. They were not close, not yet, but it was not like she was avoiding him, perching on the other side.
“I am afraid I have to ask again. You hid inside the clock?” James asked, amused.
“It is a big clock.”
“I am sure there is a closet or a dark corner you could have hidden in instead.”
“But no one would look for me in the clock.”
“And there is a good reason for that,” James mused. “No sane person would climb in there of their own volition.”
“Exactly! That is the brilliance of the plan.”
“Or reason to question your sanity.”
She glared at him, which made him shake with laughter.
James shook his head and sipped on his wine. “I guess you counted the… minutes till you saw me.”
Diana laughed. She truly laughed. He noted that he had made her smirk in irritation, fume in anger, gasp in lust, but laugh? He hadn’t made her laugh. And what a sight it was. Her body relaxed, her eyes reflecting the flames, the soft light caressing her limbs and the side of her face and her long black hair, which hung around her shoulders. The sound of her laughter was sweet like the chiming of a bell.
There it is, that tug in my chest .
He couldn’t resist. He let his glass down and leaned in. He took a stray dark lock and tucked it behind her ear. It was a simple gesture but so intimate. Diana’s breath hitched, and her eyes flicked to his. He let her see it. See how he had been holding back all night, how he was struggling not to devour her whole.
Her chest heaved violently. There was a battle inside her. She knew that she could back down now. End this. But she didn’t want to. Her eyes roamed over his whole body slowly, reverently, letting him see her explore first with her eyes.
James groaned under her scrutiny, feeling her eyes caress his body.
The air shifted. His eyes darkened with lust, and his chin dropped. Her pulse quickened, he could almost hear it.
“I wonder, Diana,” James purred, “if those pastries tasted good.”
Diana was still lost in a haze when he drew closer to her. She could not think, her pupils dilated with desire.
“I guess I have to find out,” he rasped.
He leaned in, one hand on the back of the couch and the other on her waist, pulling her closer, their breaths mingling. He brushed his lips against hers slowly, just barely, just enough to make her lean toward him. He cupped her face, his thumb brushing her lower lip.
“So sweet already, Diana,” he murmured, his voice rough.
“You… you haven’t tasted me yet,” Diana pointed out.
“Do you want me to?” he whispered.
Her fingers curled into his shirt, and she shifted closer to him.
“Do you have any idea,” he asked in a molten, dark voice, “what you do to me?”
Diana barely had time to react before his lips crashed onto hers. She gasped, and he swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss and pulling her closer until she was half sitting in his lap. His tongue swept inside her mouth, teasing, demanding, claiming every inch of it, devouring her, coaxing out soft, breathless sounds that only made him kiss her harder.
His hands explored her body, and he longed to finally see what was underneath all her layers. His hand moved to the shoulder of her dress and tugged on the sleeve.
James was a patient man, but when he saw her skin and the lace of her thin nightgown, he could barely keep himself in check.
He tore his mouth from hers and kissed her jaw and down the soft skin of her neck. She moved on pure instinct, her thighs pressing together, and he smiled as he nipped her earlobe. She buried her hands in his hair, tugging lightly and making him moan. Her head lolled back, and her lips parted on a soft whimper. And he had barely started.
James’s hand traced the column of her neck, his thumb pressing lightly over her racing pulse before sliding lower, barely grazing the swell of her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress.
“Ah!”
His thumb drew small circles on the swell of her breasts as he licked the sensitive skin behind her ear. He found the delicate neckline of her dress and tugged, the soft fabric sliding down her chest and shoulders, baring inch after inch of skin to his ravenous gaze.
James broke the kiss just long enough to look at her. “Shall I stop, Diana?”
She shook her head violently.
“Answer me,” he ordered, his breath hot on her skin.
“No… please,” she begged breathlessly.
“Oh, My Lady,” he whispered. “I will pleasure you. I will find every spot that makes you quiver,” he promised, letting his fingers dance lightly over her skin. “I will own each and every sigh.”
With a sudden yank, he freed her breasts. He cursed under his breath, his hips jerking just slightly, his hardness straining against his tight breeches.
No, tonight is for her.
He placed an open-mouthed kiss on her collarbone, and then he moved down, trailing kisses over her quivering skin. Both hands cupped her ample breasts, the white mounds spilling out of his palms just enough to make him hungry for them. When his thumb brushed over a stiff nipple, Diana almost catapulted off the sofa.
“No, Diana, I want you here,” he warned, kneading her flesh.
“I am… I am here.”
“Good,” he murmured.
Diana moaned in delight, his mouth, his hands, his body all devoted to her. The sound was music to his ears, but he knew he could make her more desperate, more breathless. Without warning, he flicked his tongue against her nipple.
“James!” Diana cried out.
“That’s it,” he encouraged.
He licked and nipped and wrapped his lips around the rosy peaks, torturing her. Diana was trembling in his arms, and he had just started. She was so responsive to his touch, as if she was born to be in his arms, pressed against him.
“How very, very sweet,” he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with satisfaction.
His tongue did wicked things to her, lapping at and licking each peak with slow, torturous strokes. When he bit her lightly, she sobbed his name, her fingers savagely pulling on his hair.
His hand slowly trailed down her chest, over her stomach, and stroked her waist while he continued worshipping her breasts. Her whole being was tense in the loveliest way, arching into his mouth, pulling him closer.
James pulled her leg up and reached down to her ankle while giving attention to her neck, making sure her exposed breasts were squished against his chest. Diana dared to demand more, her hands fisting in his shirt. She dared explore more, and James obliged her. He pulled back slightly to tear his shirt off his body and give her the access she longed for.
At the sight of his bare torso, the defined, sinewy expanse, the dark hair that peppered his chest and his taut abdomen, her breath caught.
“Touch me, Diana,” he whispered against her lips.
“I…”
“It’s only fair, My Lady,” he teased.
He planted a feather-light kiss on her lips. On her jaw. On her neck.
“Touch me.”
Diana shivered, but her hands slid up his arms slowly, only her fingertips touching him. Now his breath caught at that simple, light touch. She stroked his shoulders as he sucked on her skin, licking that sensitive spot behind her ear. Then, she let her palms wander over his chest, her heat setting him ablaze.
He gritted his teeth, barely holding back.
“God, Diana,” he hissed.
The desperation in his voice only egged her on. Her hands roamed over his chest, tentative at first but then bolder, exploring the lines of his muscles and the fine dusting of hair that led below his waistband.
If James let her continue her exploration, the night would end up completely different from what he had planned. No matter how he craved to take her, to be lost inside her, he wanted to see her undone more.
He lifted her slightly and gently laid her on the settee, her back on the soft pillows. He caged her with his body, and she spread her legs on instinct.
“You are so beautiful, Diana,” he purred.
“James, I feel so…”
“If it’s too much?—”
“No!” She grabbed his shoulders for fear he would pull away.
He looked upon her, and his heart soared.
Diana was beautiful. No, she had always been beautiful. Like this, with her hair spread over his velvet pillows, her lips swollen from his kisses, her milky breasts catching the warm firelight, and her eyes heavy-lidded with desire, she was a goddess—a divine goddess—and he was a mere pilgrim to her beauty.
And he was going to worship her.