Chapter 13 #2
Tears threatened, but she refused to let them fall. “Really, Mr Hawke, we must work on your delivery. I see now why darling isn’t in your vocabulary.”
He must have heard the fracture in her voice.
He turned to her. “That’s exactly the point. Everything about you is a bloody surprise.”
She sat in stunned silence, half elated, half convinced she’d misheard.
“A good surprise?”
“A confounding one.”
She stood. The blanket slipped to the floor. The cup clattered against the saucer despite her grip. “This is hardly the relaxing evening I had in mind.”
“What did you have in mind?” He stood and placed his cup on the seat before holding her stare, giving nothing away. “If you meant to soften my heart, you’ve wasted your time.”
She stepped back. “That was not my intention.”
“Then that’s a damn shame.” He caught her wrist. “You’ve had my heart in your hand for more than a week. Do you think I’d ride like the devil and risk my neck for anyone but you?”
Her breath faltered. Everything narrowed to the soft brush of his thumb against her wrist, the stutter of her heartbeat, the sweet pulse between her thighs.
Dominic.
The silent call rose from deep within her. He heard it. Answered it. Pulled her hard against him. Wager be damned.
He took her hungrily, kissing her open and deep. It would have been ravishment had she not seized him with equal desperation.
His mouth moved over hers, the silken stroke of his tongue a reminder of the pact between them. He meant to have her pleading before the chocolate cooled.
Her fingers fisted in his coat, drawing him closer, refusing to be overwhelmed, matching every fevered thrust.
Strong, restless hands roamed from her back to her hips, over the curve of her breast before gripping her bottom and hauling her hard against him.
A rough sound escaped his throat.
“You’ve won,” he growled, nibbling the corner of her mouth. “You have me, angel. Any way you want me.”
Many women would relish this moment, raise a glass to the victory. But this was never about one besting the other.
“You’re the one with the prize to claim.”
“Careful,” he murmured. The warning did not sound entirely meant for her. “Don’t give a man options when he’s straining in his trousers.”
“One touch. That’s what we agreed.”
“One touch anywhere.” His mouth grazed her earlobe. “You’ve made a deal with the devil. There’s only one place I intend to put my hands tonight. One place I long to explore.”
She knew the place. The truth of it was in the slow nudge of his knee between her thighs, in the deliberate brush that stole her breath.
“Tell me you’ve never felt pleasure from a man’s hand.”
The words sounded dangerously possessive.
“Never.” She doubted she could say that in the morning.
The dark curve of his lips made her skin flush. “Will you let me touch you, Daphne? Slow, intimate strokes that will have you panting beneath the stars. The way I wanted to that night we shared a bed.”
Her body answered, a quiver low in her belly, impossible to deny. “You want me to undress out here? In the garden?”
He cupped her face, his thumb sweeping over her bottom lip. “If I undress you, I’ll want you.” His gaze traced the line of her throat before drifting lower. “More than once. I’m no saint.”
Why did it sound like an enticement, not a warning?
“You’ll have to show me what you mean to do. I’ve no wish to fumble in the dark.”
“You won’t. I’ll pleasure you while you watch the stars.” He released her, shook out his greatcoat and laid it out on the grass. Then offered his hand. “Come. You’ll look at the heavens. I’ll look at you.”
She slipped her hand into his, a mirror of their first dance. Nothing had been the same since. Nothing would be again once she surrendered to him.
He guided her down onto his coat, warm and scented with leather and him, then lay beside her and drew the wool blankets over them.
“What do you love about the stars?” he said.
She gazed up at the vibrant canopy, relaxing a little, which she suspected was the plan. “Problems seem insignificant against the vastness of the heavens.”
He came up on his elbow, his fingers tracing the neckline of her plain blue dress. “Is that why you invited me here? To help me forget about vengeance? Or to seduce me in this celestial setting?”
A shiver ran through her. Whether from his featherlight caress or the ache of anticipation, she could not tell. “Are you seduced?”
“You know damn well I am.”
“Do I?”
“My steely reserve is the only thing stopping me from rolling on top of you and forgetting every promise I made.”
She had to bite her tongue lest she offer every encouragement. “Have you ever made love beneath the stars?”
“Never. You make me forget who I’m meant to be.”
It was a compliment he didn’t try to hide.
The secret she needed.
“Then perhaps you should show me the scoundrel I met in Lord Templeton’s ballroom. He kissed like he was starved of breath.”
“You want to taste sin, angel?”
“You know I do.”
He was on her in a heartbeat, claiming her mouth in a savage kiss that sent ripples to her toes. He rolled half over her, the unmistakable hardness of him pressing against her hip.
She felt the breeze whisper over her stockings a second before his hand followed, his thumb tracing a slow circle at her ankle.
His hand slid higher, that devilish thumb finding the hollow of her knee. One touch. That was all. Yet she felt him everywhere. The taste of chocolate with every glide of his tongue. The burn beneath his fingers. The persistent throb between her thighs.
She thrust her hands into his hair, deepening the kiss as she arched into him. A silent plea she dared not voice aloud.
He heard it.
His hand stilled at her knee, fingers flexing. “Have a care, love. I’m fighting to keep my need in its cage.”
She could sense power pulsing beneath his clothes, but there was nothing of the beast in him tonight. Never had she felt so safe, so cherished, with a man most considered lethal.
“Kiss me and I shall try to curb my enthusiasm.”
“Don’t try too hard. Just be mindful of my condition.”
How could she not be mindful when the thick ridge of him pushed against her?
The smile inside her deepened. She had done this to him.
“Any doubts?” he asked.
“None.”
He didn’t ask twice.
His mouth claimed hers while his hand edged higher, like the sweet glide of steel over silk. He found the ends of the pink ribbon fastened into a bow and tugged gently. Her undoing.
Nothing prepared her for the intimate caress as he slid her stocking to her knee. The skim of his fingers on her bare skin had her shuddering as he traced a path to the place she felt him most keenly.
He paused for a heartbeat.
“If you want me to continue, open for me.”
She did. A little nervously.
A moan rumbled in his throat, the sound deepening when his fingers brushed over her, the part he’d promised to explore.
“I knew you’d feel this good.”
The rasp in his voice, the lazy heat in his eyes, the ache between her legs, made her forget she was innocent.
“Dominic.”
She rocked her hips against his hand and looked at him. Moonlight caught the chestnut in his hair. The steel had left his gaze, replaced by something darker. His breathing deepened, but his touch stayed steady.
It did not change when her breath grew ragged. Nor when her fingers dug into his shoulder.
“Look at me.”
She tried. God, she tried.
But the world had narrowed to the relentless circling of his touch, to the unbearable tightening building deep inside her. Each measured movement drew her closer to something she could neither name nor stop.
“Dominic—”
Her voice broke on the second syllable.
“That’s it,” he said softly. “Don’t fight it.”
She didn’t.
The tension snapped.
Pleasure swept through her in a fierce, blinding rush, stealing the air from her lungs and the strength from her limbs. Her back arched. Her nails dug into him. His name left her in a breathless plea.
He held her through it, his mouth at her temple, his hand never wavering as she trembled against him.
And when the last shudder left her, she realised she was looking at him.
Not the stars.