Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
A little bit wicked.
The words slammed into Daniel. Heat licked through his veins, stirring a dangerous hunger. His gaze dropped to her lips, those soft, plush curves that had haunted him since the moment he’d kissed her. The memory of that stolen moment had been living with him, burrowing under his skin, tempting him with the idea of seeking more.
“They want you to be a little bit wicked,” he murmured, his voice rougher than he intended.
Her green eyes flickered with uncertainty, her throat working in a delicate swallow.
“Presumably … with me,” he continued, arching a brow. “Since they also led me here.”
“Yes,” she said, barely above a whisper, blushing furiously.
His chuckle was low, teasing. “And yet they are not planning a compromising trap?”
A spark of fury lit in her gaze. “Yes,” she snapped.
Then, without another word, she whirled and marched away, her skirts swishing furiously around her legs. Daniel was tempted to stop her, to catch her by the wrist and pull her back— just to see the way her cheeks would flush with outrage. Instead, he watched her, fascinated, as she stormed toward the door, grabbed the handle, and—
A gasp.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Let me guess,” he drawled, strolling leisurely toward her. “It’s locked.”
Caroline spun to face him, hand pressed against her chest, her eyes wide with alarm. “I promise you, this is not a trap.”
Her voice was breathless, almost defensive. Daniel stopped mere inches from her, close enough that he could see the frantic rise and fall of her breathing.
She exhaled sharply, as if trying to compose herself. “We are the bad Fairbanks, Lord Walcott. All of my cousins were quite wicked before marriage, with no expectations of ever being married.”
That startled him.
She cleared her throat, hesitated, then lifted her chin.
“It was only by chance,” she murmured, “that they all … found love.”
Daniel stilled, something flickering in his chest at her soft, wistful tone.
“Even Lizzy,” she continued, “was Ravenswood’s lover long before they wed.”
The revelation rocked him back on his heels. Ravenswood. A duke—one of the most respected, powerful men he knew—had taken a Fairbanks as a mistress ?
And then married her? Daniel had heard countless whispers about the Fairbanks, but he had never truly considered what it meant. Naughty, reckless, improper—he had assumed it was a scandalous nickname given to a boisterous family.
But now, standing before one of them, he understood.
They did not bow to society’s rules. They lived by their own.
And suddenly … he found himself wanting to know more. Heat pooled in his belly, a sharp tug of temptation tightening inside him. Before he even registered the thought, his hands shot out, catching her hips in a firm grip and hauling her against him.
A small gasp left her lips, but Caroline didn’t push away. Instead, she went still, stunned, pressed lush and soft against him.
God help him, she fit perfectly.
He felt the curve of her waist, the subtle press of her breasts against his chest, and lower—the cradle of her hips flush against his thighs.
His heart pounded. The conservatory was warm, humid, scented with roses and pine, but nothing compared to the heat of her body against his. Every nerve in him stood on edge, fiercely aware of how she felt, how she smelled, even the delicate hitch in her breathing.
Dangerous. Caroline Fairbanks is entirely too dangerous.
She lifted her head, and he saw uncertainty flicker in her eyes.
“Do you understand,” she said, “that I would never allow anyone to force me to marry against my will?”
Daniel smiled slowly, liking the fire in her gaze, the defiance in her voice.
His grip tightened, his thumbs stroking small, absent circles along her curves. “Yes,” he murmured. “Do you understand the same about me?”
“I understand,” she whispered.
A thick silence stretched between them, charged, breathless.
Then, recklessly, he murmured, “Do you wish to be wicked with me?”
A tremor ran through her.
Her gaze dipped to Daniel’s mouth. That small action sent a bolt of raw awareness through him, as if she had already kissed him. As if her lips were already pressed against his.
Daniel inhaled sharply, his fingers tensing on her hips.
Damnation. What would she say? Would she choose wickedness? Or would she run?
Her lips parted slightly, her breath soft and uneven, as if she were on the verge of bolting. But then …
She lifted her chin, her green eyes gleaming with something dangerously tempting, and her hands slipped around his nape, her touch hesitant at first, then bolder.
“Wickedness,” she whispered, her voice a breath of sin and silk.
Then she kissed him.
It was a whisper of warmth at first, tentative, almost questioning. Then he felt her sigh against his lips, as if surrendering to something inevitable, and just like that, the ground beneath him vanished. A groan dragged from his throat as his hands came up, spanning her waist, tugging her closer, molding her against him. His fingers flexed over the soft curves of her hips, the layers of her gown suddenly an unbearable nuisance.
Her lips parted beneath his, and the slow, aching slide of his tongue against hers sent a jolt of desire through his veins. She tasted like warm honey and winter spices, and he was drowning in her. Daniel slanted his mouth over hers, deepening the kiss, plundering, demanding, savoring. A small, breathless noise escaped her, something between a sigh and a moan, and it undid him completely.
His hand traveled up the curve of her back, settling between her shoulder blades, anchoring her as he devoured her mouth. She met him stroke for stroke, her fingers threading through his hair, tightening, nails grazing his scalp.
Heat coiled low in his belly, sharp and insistent, fanning out in waves.
God, she felt so soft, so perfect, pressed against him.
The kiss deepened, their breaths mingling, her body molding to his in a way that made his mind go utterly blank. He could feel the faint, wild hammering of her heart against his chest, matching his own frantic rhythm.
Outside, the cold night air whispered against their skin, the scent of pine and roses from the conservatory surrounding them. Snowflakes drifted lazily against the glass panes, but he was only aware of her warmth, the way she clung to him, the way she gave as much as she took.
Time blurred.
He had no idea how long they kissed.
A minute? Ten? A lifetime?
All he knew was that he did not want to stop. But Caroline was the one who finally broke the spell. She tore her mouth from his, her breath ragged, her cheeks flushed. Her lips—rosy and kiss-swollen—trembled slightly, as if she, too, felt the undeniable shift between them.
Daniel rested his forehead against hers, his breath unsteady, his grip still firm at her waist, unwilling to let go just yet.
“I want you,” he murmured against her lips, his voice rough with need, “too damn much.”
She laughed softly, a breathless sound, her fingers still tangled in his hair. “I should be incensed, but I have never been dishonest, even with myself,” she whispered. “I want you too.”
Daniel exhaled sharply, his body still burning, still craving.
And God help him …
He wanted more. Even as he knew it was dangerous, for a woman like Caroline deserved more than he was willing to give.
Just a little more …
Caroline barely recognized the thought, lost beneath the sensual haze of Daniel’s spell. Her fingers tightened in his thick, silken hair, urging him closer. That was all the encouragement he needed. His mouth once again crashed against hers, hot and demanding, devouring. His tongue swept inside, tasting her, learning her, making her shiver from the sheer possession of it.
A soft moan escaped her lips, swallowed greedily by his kiss. She had never known kissing could feel this devastating, this deep, this utterly consuming. The world tilted, and a hazy moment later, Caroline found herself sinking into the chaise, her back pressed against the plush upholstery, her skirts of her winter gown fanned about her thighs.
Heat. Strength. His scent.
Daniel loomed over her, his powerful body caging her in, enclosing her in warmth, hunger, and the dark gleam of his silver eyes. She should have been frightened—should have felt overwhelmed by the sheer force of him—but all she felt was need.
His lips brushed hers again—a coaxing temptation, lighter than before, before he trailed kisses down her throat. A pleasurable shudder racked her as he nipped at the sensitive skin, then soothed the spot with his tongue.
His hands moved, skimming along her stocking-clad calves, making her gasp.
Then higher …
Caroline’s fingers curled against his shoulders as he tugged at the garter, playfully snapping it against her skin. She gasped, her head falling back against the chaise as something hotter than embarrassment twisted inside her.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured against her throat, his breath warm, teasing.
“I—I …”
He pressed a soft kiss just beneath her ear, sending another shiver dancing over her flesh.
“Tell me to stop,” Daniel whispered, his fingers now skimming beneath her bloomers, tracing the delicate skin of her thighs.
Caroline couldn’t. Instead, she arched into him, helpless against the fire curling in her belly. His fingers slid under the thin linen, parting it, his palm warm as he cupped her sex intimately.
She stilled, her breath catching in sweet, startled shock. A new ache unfurled, deep, insistent, blinding in its intensity. His thumb grazed her curls, then lower, slipping through the damp heat of her most intimate place.
“Daniel,” she whimpered, barely recognizing her own voice.
A wicked groan vibrated against her skin. “God, Caroline … you’re so wet.”
A helpless moan escaped her lips, her lashes fluttering closed. His fingers teased, explored, learned, sliding over that exquisitely sensitive part of her with slow, exacting precision. A pulse of liquid pleasure rippled through her as he circled her aching nub again and again, sending sharp spikes of need down to the tips of her toes.
“You are so beautiful like this,” he rasped against her throat. “So soft … so responsive.”
And then he slipped a finger inside her. Her back bowed, her breath leaving her in a shocked cry.
“Easy,” he soothed, pressing a kiss to her parted lips.
His touch slowed, then stroked deep, stretching her, filling her. Pleasure clawed up her spine, and she gasped again, gripping his coat as if she might drown. Then he added another finger, stretching her more, pressing into the silk and heat of her with deep, lazy thrusts.
A sharp, startled cry left her lips as something new and powerful coiled deep in her belly.
“That’s it,” Daniel murmured carnally. “Let me feel you fall apart.”
His thumb found the bundle of nerves, stroking in slow, precise circles. Pleasure built higher and higher, tightening inside her, and she whimpered, arching desperately as her body burned, climbed, shattered—
And then she broke.
A sharp cry left her throat as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, sweeping her away in wicked, blinding sensation. Daniel groaned, watching her fall apart, his fingers still teasing her through the aftershocks. She trembled beneath him, boneless, dazed, her chest rising and falling in ragged pants.
And before Caroline could even gather her scattered wits, he dipped his head and replaced his fingers with his mouth.
A helpless cry tore from her lips. “ Daniel , I—”
He groaned against her, the vibration sending a shocking jolt of raw pleasure through her.
His tongue swept through her slick folds, tasting, savoring, as if she were his most decadent indulgence. Caroline twisted, helpless, trying to close her legs, but he spread her wider, holding her open to his mouth, his fingers biting into her hips as he licked her in deep, aching strokes.
Another wave of pleasure built, faster, hotter, sharper than before. He suckled that sensitive peak, tortured her with his tongue, and she splintered again, her world unraveling in shuddering, breathless pleasure. She barely had time to recover before he drove her into another peak, his mouth relentless, his hands holding her in place as he pleasured her like a man starved.
Her body climbed higher, faster, shattered again, and her cry echoed in the glass conservatory. Only then did Daniel pull away, his breath ragged, his chest heaving. Caroline lay trembling, spent, her limbs feeling liquid and weightless. His eyes were dark silver, burning with desire as he stared down at her.
Then with a rough, agonized groan, he tore himself away and rasped, “Go.”
She blinked, still dazed from the pleasure, not comprehending.
“Now, Caroline.” His voice was hoarse, filled with a need he was barely controlling.
Something in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine—a warning. He was at the edge of his restraint. Her breath still ragged, her body still shaking, she forced herself upright, smoothing her skirts with unsteady hands. A last lingering look at him—a shadowed figure, his jaw clenched, his hands fisted, his body taut with hunger—and she turned, hurrying away.
The conservatory door was miraculously unlocked this time, and she fled into the night, through the cold, through the empty, silent house, and into her chamber. Once inside, she shut the door, locked it, and pressed a hand to her still-pounding heart.
She removed her coat and gown with trembling fingers, slipping beneath the coverlets, still burning, aching, reeling. Her fingers hovered over her kiss-swollen lips, remembering the taste of him, the feel of his mouth on hers, the wickedness they had indulged in.
And she knew, with bone-deep certainty—this would not be the last time.