Chapter Thirteen #3
Or a woman about to crawl into her lover’s bed.
She couldn’t bring herself to move. Her heart stood still. She was afraid to turn around, to face Alec.
She didn’t have to.
All at once he was behind her, tall and powerful. She would have turned, but he stopped her with a shake of his head.
With a single fingertip beneath the tie at her shoulder, he slid it down, baring the skin. A tug, and it separated.
Maura couldn’t have moved even if she wanted to.
She stared, mesmerized by his reflection, mesmerized by hers.
Their eyes locked, hers wide and startled.
Alec’s burned like fiery blue torches. It was as if he touched her very soul.
His right arm curled around her waist, pulling her back against him.
She quivered inside, aware of his latent power and strength.
He swept aside the black curtain of her hair, exposing the fragile length of her neck, the delicate slope of her shoulder.
Never in her life would she forget the scorching hunger on his features.
She saw it in his eyes just before he lowered his head.
He kissed her nape, a blazing trail to the tender spot just below her ear.
She had not dreamed that she might be so achingly sensitive there.
His lips grazed the side of her neck. She tilted her head, granting even more access to the tantalizing touch of his lips.
Her body reacted instinctively. Impatiently. Her nipples thrust against the sheer cloth. They tingled, icy needles that craved…something. Something more…
She was vaguely aware of the gown pooling at her feet, and then she knew what that something was. His palms cupped the weight of one breast in his hand. His arm slid over her right shoulder, laying claim to her left breast. His thumb brushed against the crown; she nearly cried out.
Maura couldn’t tear her gaze from the mirror.
It was as if he took possession of her, an exquisite entrapment.
His fingers traced circles around both her nipples.
His thumb raked lightly across both peaks.
Taking it between thumb and forefinger, he squeezed lightly, then palmed back and forth, back and forth, tantalizing until she moaned.
Swamped by sheer sensation, her eyes were half closed. His hands were at her breasts, lean and dark against her pale skin. A rush of sheer pleasure shot through her. It was wildly erotic as she watched him play her body…and watching him watch her was even more erotic.
Lean fingers splayed across her belly, spanning the width between her hips, dark against her pale smoothness. His caresses impelled a shockingly compelling persuasion. Maura held her breath. His fingertips painted a tantalizing path to her belly, paused for one mind-shattering moment—
Then slipped brazenly into the triangle of curls above her thighs.
Every ounce of strength seemed to drain from her limbs. His tongue traced the tendon of her neck. Her head fell back.
With a muffled exclamation, Alec turned her in his arms, flooded with arousal.
His legs braced slightly apart, he caught her knee and brought it high around his hip.
He held her squarely between his legs. One hand molding the curve of her buttocks, he clamped her tight against him, bringing her up and against the jutting hardness of his erection for mind-spinning moments.
Maura clutched at his arms, feeling the knotted tension in his arms as he caught her up and bore her to the bed.
There, they lay together, side by side. Alec’s mouth covered hers, staking his claim.
Jerking his shirt apart, he rubbed his chest against hers.
Her skin was pale, almost translucent; he could see the fragile trace of veins beneath.
Dark desire gripped him. He was powerless to control it.
He closed his mouth around first one swollen nipple, then the other, sucking hard.
His hand strayed lower. As tall as she was, she was incredibly fine-boned and slender.
His fingertips stretched wide, easily bridging the hollow of her belly.
A lone finger circled the kernel of flesh hidden in her nest of curls, then stole between sleek, feminine petals.
He felt the jolt that went through her. His own need vibrated deep in his chest. Christ, she was hot.
Damp with heat. Trembling with desire. And he was burning both inside and out.
Alec felt her lips part beneath his. He gritted his teeth, easing a finger inside her passage a scant inch. Even there she was small, her flesh closing tight around his finger. God, she would fit around his shaft like a second skin. He could almost swear—
Maura sucked in a breath. “Your grace—”
Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. “Alec,” he muttered. “My God, you call me ‘your grace’ when I’ve my hand in your—”
“Alec!” she cried.
He captured her lips. His thumb circled that pinpoint of pleasure. She writhed against him, around him. “Yes, Irish, that’s the way. Soon it will be me inside you.”
Maura’s eyes snapped open. Alarm seized her. Her breath came raggedly, her thoughts in jagged bursts. If she allowed this, Alec would discover the truth of what happened—nay, what did not happen—the night of the baron’s masquerade.
The truth would out.
She could not risk it. She dare not risk it.
Because then she might never find the Circle.
And all would be lost.
“Alec,” she whispered, and then it was a cry: “Alec!”
Something in her voice penetrated through the fiery haze of pleasure surrounding him. His eyes flicked open. He stared directly into hers.
His lips grew ominously thin.
Maura’s face was scalding. Her pulse pounded wildly. Her heart in chaos, she looked at him, only to wish she had not.
“Dammit, Irish, what is it?” He was awash with sensation, dying to be inside her. Didn’t she realize how close he was to that point of no return? He was a heartbeat away from driving hard and deep, as deep as he could go.
Then he saw the tremor of her lips, and a strange expression flitted across his features. He went a little pale. “What is it? Christ, the night of the masquerade, did I—” the words were ground out. “—did I hurt you?”
“No,” she said faintly.
“What, then?”
Maura shook her head. He released her. Sitting up, she crossed her arms over her nakedness. She despised her trickery, her forbidden yearnings.
Alec got to his feet, the planes of his face rigid and tense, his mouth a taut line. Maura glimpsed the raw hunger that still burned in his eyes. She hated herself even more.
His eyes were suddenly icy, as icy as his tone. “Have it your way for now, Duchess. The next time will be mine.”
Maura jumped when he slammed the door between their rooms. Her lips still throbbed from being oh so thoroughly kissed. She staved off tears of shame. He would hate her, she was certain, when she revealed her deceit.
The encounter left her quaking inside. Shaken to the core. Fraught with worry. Somehow she was going to have to find a way to stay out of his bed. Somehow she must find a way to placate him, to appease him. How long, she wondered desperately, could she hold him off?
And yet—God forgive her, but she longed to experience what it would be like to make love with Alec McBride. Her heart twisted, for he would never know how much she yearned for it. Once. Just once.
But making love with Alec was the one thing she must avoid at all costs. If she didn’t avoid it, all her efforts would have been in vain.
The Circle of Light was here. So very near. That strange sense of certainty had never left her. Once she found it, both she and Alec could resume their lives as they had been before they ever met.
All she had to do was find the Circle—find it soon! Then she could go back to Ireland. Home to Castle McDonough.
And far, far away from Alec McBride.