Chapter Ten #2
What was wrong with letting herself enjoy this kiss? She’d been holding herself so tight, trying to be so strong. What harm could one kiss do?
And it felt good to at last let her body enjoy being in his arms. His body heat enfolded her. His strength held her.
The kiss deepened.
He sat on the bench, pulling her down onto his lap. Thea straddled his legs.
Were her nightclothes up around her bare thighs? She didn’t care.
Did his hand caress her breast? Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes.
She was perfectly happy. Blissfully happy. Hungrily happy. And when he broke the kiss to brush aside her hair to nibble his way to her ear, Thea thought she was going to shoot straight from his arms into heaven . . .
Neal was intoxicated. Thea was seductive, willing, aggressive.
She cupped his head with her hands, bent over him and kissed him with an abandon he had not known existed.
Dear God, he wanted her.
In truth, he’d wanted her all those years ago when they’d met by the stream. He’d fantasized about her, yearned to see her and cherished each moment they’d been together. But this, having her respond to his kisses, holding her in his arms, was better than any fantasy.
The pull, the draw, the need was a hundred times stronger than it had ever been with any other woman.
Neal had had dalliances over the years, but the women had meant nothing to him and he’d lost interest. Yes, he was a man with a strong drive, yet while his brother had played with every female who’d placed herself in his path, Neal had been discreet, almost celibate.
But now all caution flew to the wind.
He tasted her ear, her cheek, her nose, her eyes. Her breasts were firm and hard in his palm. He reveled in the silky skin of her thigh, his hand following the curve of her hip, the indentation of her waist.
She was moist and hot and he could not have stopped unbuttoning his breeches even if his brother had come charging into the room with the whole host of the Horse Guard behind him. He had to be inside Thea. He must be inside her.
She moved against his hand, as impatient as he was. He tired of feeling her breast. He found the tight hard nipple with his mouth, licking, stroking her right through the fabric of her gown.
Her breath caught in her throat as she whimpered out of pleasure, and he wanted her all the more.
And then he was free of his fumbling with buttons and material. He was hard, ready, and charged by her moist heat.
With an almost animal need, Neal lifted her hips and brought her down on top of him. Her tightness surrounded him. Her heat almost was his undoing.
She stiffened, the action allowing him to go deeper.
“Neal,” she said, her voice wavering.
He kissed her ear, found her lips. “It’s all right,” he murmured almost desperately. She couldn’t stop now. He couldn’t. “It’s so right. So good.”
She nodded even as she opened to him.
This was Thea as he’d always dreamed. Sweetly giving, yet demanding in her own right. She began moving, rolling her body against his. He copied her movements, thrust deep, eased out, came for her again. It was a dance of lust and desire. A partnership.
Her clothes became an encumbrance. Although he was still fully clothed, he ached to have her naked in his arms. He tugged at her dressing gown, freed her of it and impatiently grabbed her nightdress at the neckline, all but ripping it off her.
Naked, Thea was perfection. Their movements were growing more frenzied. He never wanted to be apart from her, not ever. He buried his head in her breasts, both arms around her waist. Her arms were around his shoulders. She moved harder, faster.
And suddenly, she cried out.
He felt her quicken, her hands gripped his shoulders, her body tightened.
Neal held her fast. She was gasping, repeating his name, whispering words he could not have made out even if he’d had sense, which he did not.
Nothing had ever felt as good as being inside Thea.
No woman had ever so completely overpowered him with desire.
She was quicksilver and light. She was the stars, the moon, the sun.
In this moment, she owned his entire being.
He could not imagine himself without her and was loathe to ever let her go.
She was his. Completely.
And he made his claim by burying himself deeper than he’d thought possible and releasing his seed with a force that robbed him of breath.
Her legs encircled his hips. She leaned against him, her body spent, her heart pounding against her chest and matching the racing rhythm of his own.
Slowly, he noticed the coolness of the room, the way the lamp sent flickering shadows around them, their reflection in the mirror. Her straight arms rested on his shoulders, her hands loose and relaxed.
Neal nudged her head where it was snuggled in the crook of his neck. She turned to him and he found her lips. This kiss was even sweeter than the others—and only then did understanding dawn.
Of course their coupling would be unlike any other.
There had always been a strong connection between them.
His father had realized that. It had been the reason he’d ordered the sixteen-year-old Neal to stop seeing her and sent him to London.
Because of her, he’d sat Neal down and told him of the curse—
The curse. How could he have forgotten it?
Neal pulled away from the kiss and came to his feet, almost dropping her to the floor. She caught herself in time and stood.
She gave him a sleepy, seductive smile, her gaze dropping to his spent sex, which was already starting to stir at the sight of her warm, compliant, well-used body.
Dear God, he could have a go at her again. Only this time, he wanted to be naked as well. He could make love to her every hour of every day and still want her more.
Her lips were full and red from his kisses. Her skin radiated a healthy, rosy glow. Her usually properly styled hair was wildly tossed.
There was no other woman on the face of this earth more beautiful to him—and then he realized that he was in danger of falling in love.
Neal backed away from her, buttoning his breeches.
Dear God, what had he done?
She took a step toward him and he put up a hand. He tried to keep his mind blank, to literally freeze her out of it.
He’d refrained from chasing women not because he’d been circumspect but because he’d compared all of them to Thea. She was the ideal, the epitome . . . and he’d fallen in love with her without being conscious of it. Maybe he’d always loved her.
He stabbed his fingers through his hair. “Thea,” he started but then stopped. What was he going to say? What could he say? He’d just rogered her lustily. She was his. She had nowhere to go, and that was his fault as well.
Her lips curved into a satisfied smile. She slid her arms around his waist. His breeches grew tight. “What may I do for you, my lord?” she murmured in a voice so sensual that he had to kiss her—
Neal dived away from her kiss. This was not right. He couldn’t marry Thea.
He must. He was honor bound to do so.
He began backing toward the door. She started to follow him. He moved faster. “Tomorrow, I’ll procure the special license—tomorrow,” he said. “We’d best marry posthaste.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, frowning as if she hadn’t heard a word he’d said.
“To my bed. And you need to go to your bed.”
Her mouth made a moue of disappointment, but she obeyed and backed up. He almost sighed with relief, until she lay on the edge of her bed, curling her lovely, naked body in the most beguiling way possible. She smiled, an invitation. “Are you certain you don’t want to stay?”
His breeches would not be able to hold him back. The buttons would pop off in a minute. Neal clutched the door handle as if it was a lifeline.