CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER NINE
H UNGER TORE THROUGH Travis as Isabelle lowered her chin in the barest hint of a nod.
She was beyond beautiful, the cascade of curls like a golden cloud, her eyes dark with the desire she’d denied earlier.
Progress.
She’d never looked more like a queen in that moment—regal and proud. But also somehow fragile and untouched, the wary light in her eyes making her seem vulnerable.
The realisation he was going to have to work to earn her trust only captivated him more.
He inhaled her intoxicating fragrance—wild flowers and sin—then gathered the heavy locks, feeling her delicious shiver in response, and swept them over her shoulder.
He studied the fastenings of her gown. The tiny hooks were a problem, his hands weren’t exactly made for delicate work, but he’d managed to deal with her hair without hurting her. He just needed to take it slow.
Locating the hook at her nape, he released it—the hunger surging as she shuddered. He worked his way down her back, freeing her from the garment, as each delicious quiver ricocheted through her body and into his.
Did she know how responsive she was to him?
By the time he reached her waist, the gown was gaping open to reveal the corset. He eased the ornate silk off her shoulders and she released a deep breath as the fabric pooled at her feet.
Damn, but her cleavage was like a work of art, her slender curves displayed in nothing but the cream silk corset, and some lacy panties.
‘Thank you,’ she said again, in that studiously polite tone, which only made her livewire responses to him more of a turn-on.
‘Corset next?’ he murmured, shifting back so she didn’t become aware of the growing bulge in his shorts.
Again, she nodded. Triggering another surge of desire.
He needed to pace himself again so he took a moment to stare out of the bathroom window and slow his breathing. Snow drifted down in thick flakes from the canopy of stars in the night sky, blanketing the gorge below.
Mostly in control again, he assessed the corset’s intricate tapes, rubbing his thumb across the reddened skin where the panels had dug into her back.
She bucked against the slight touch.
‘Why did you need this thing anyway?’ he asked.
‘The stylist and the designer felt it would enhance my figure,’ she said.
‘Like it needs enhancing,’ he scoffed.
The flush on her face flared, and he wondered again if she knew how gorgeous she was.
He went to work on the corset. But her vicious shivers as he released each tape only turbo-charged the heat that had been building between them for hours, days, months even...
Peeling off the stiff silk contraption at last, he placed his mouth between her shoulder blades and kissed the dewy skin. A soft moan broke from her lips.
Desire flared as the corset landed on the floor and he took in the sight of all that flushed deliciously pink flesh in nothing but a pair of minuscule lace panties and silk stockings held up by a suspender belt. She had clasped her arms over her bare breasts. But her shyness was as captivating as the arousal darkening her green eyes to black.
‘Don’t cover yourself, Belle,’ he groaned. ‘You’re beautiful.’
He could see her surprise and pleasure at the compliment—which made no sense. Surely he couldn’t be the first guy to tell her that?
The streak of jealousy—and possessiveness—at the thought of all those other guys made even less sense. They might be married, but she wasn’t his.
Even so, he skimmed his thumb across her nape, delighted when her eyes flared with need.
Her arms remained folded over her breasts, but they weren’t hiding much.
He stroked her bare shoulders, causing more of those delicious shivers. Circling her waist, he flattened his palms against her belly, just above the lace of her panties, to draw her against him.
‘I want to kiss you again, Belle,’ he murmured against her neck, determined to make it a question, even though the hunger was crucifying him.
‘Where?’ she asked—in that puzzled, polite way she had that he was beginning to realise masked so much passion.
His lips quirked. How could she be so hot and yet so adorable?
‘Anywhere you’ll let me,’ he replied.
Her eyes glazed with arousal, but her teeth dug into her lip, the panic resurfacing. Grasping her shoulders, he turned her to face him—before she could get out the no he suspected might be coming.
‘How about we start with this mouth?’ he said, lifting her lips to his.
She blinked, then nodded.
Thank the Lord.
Isabelle’s breath guttered out as Travis’s lips captured hers.
But unlike the kiss she had obsessed about for weeks, this kiss wasn’t coaxing or careful, it was demanding and forceful. A groan she couldn’t control reverberated through her as she opened her mouth to welcome him in. Vicious sensation centred in her sex as his tongue thrust deep.
The pleasure spread like wildfire as he wrapped his arms around her to bring her flush against him. She could feel the thrust of his erection against her belly. Hard and long, and more than a little overwhelming even through his shorts. She writhed against the thick ridge, suddenly desperate to relieve the aching pain emanating from her core.
His head rose suddenly, and he tore his mouth from hers.
‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled.
His lips curved in a wry smile, which had her wariness resurfacing. Could he see what he did to her?
‘What for?’ he asked, his gravelly voice scraping the many sensitive parts he had exploited so easily.
Because I don’t know how to do this.
The words reverberated in her mind, too revealing to be said aloud.
‘I’m still not sure this is a good idea,’ she muttered.
He nodded. But the demand on his face remained as he cradled her cheek and dragged his thumb across her lips.
‘If you want to tell me where you like to be touched, we could see if I can change your mind,’ he said, the purpose in his gaze as intoxicating as the renewed throbbing in her sex.
Again, she should say no—she had no idea where she liked to be touched.
But her control was already in tatters, the aching desire consuming her, and another nod became inevitable when he skimmed his thumb under her bare breast—and shocking sensation arrowed down to her core.
He turned her around to face the mirror again. ‘How about we start there?’ he said, nuzzling the skin under her earlobe as he took her wrists to gently release the arms she had shielding her breasts.
Her harsh intake of breath echoed around the room as he cupped the heavy orbs.
‘Good?’ he asked as he circled the throbbing peaks while kissing the pulse in her neck.
She groaned. ‘Yes.’
He let out a raw chuckle, but continued to caress her, toying with the responsive peaks as she leaned against him, her legs becoming boneless.
‘So where next, Belle?’ he asked, the husky tone making her body quake anew.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she met his molten gaze in the glass. That he was letting her set the pace, dictate his moves, felt empowering somehow—and spurred the reckless excitement.
How could this be wrong? When it felt so right?
‘Just... Anywhere...’ she managed, her voice thick with the yearning she could no longer disguise.
‘Good choice,’ he said.
His hands left her breasts to wrap around her body, holding her against him, making her aware of his need as well as her own.
She gasped, the surge of pleasure so immense she could no longer resist it, or him.
Fireworks burst in the night sky outside to mark the end of their wedding day.
‘We missed the fireworks,’ she murmured, inanely.
His gaze roamed over her—the coloured lights reflected in his eyes. ‘No, we didn’t.’
He wasn’t wrong, she realised, because the thunder and pop from outside were nothing compared to the fire sparking across her nerve-endings as he held her close while his hands stroked and caressed, her breasts, her waist, her hips...
Her chest heaved as she stared at their reflection—her so small and needy, him so tall and commanding. He lifted her arm, draped it over his neck. She clung onto him, her breasts thrust out, the air trapped in her lungs as anticipation fired through her. Long strong fingers traced across her ribs, circling her belly button and finally delving into her panties, to locate the swollen folds of her sex.
‘You’re so wet for me, Belle,’ he growled, sending a fierce wave of validation and approval through her molten flesh.
She moaned, her body a mass of sensation, the guttural sound both plea and prayer as he skimmed over her centre at last—the bundle of nerves begging for his touch.
Her legs weakened, her knees trembling, her thighs tensing and releasing as he circled and delved, forcing her to focus on that one raw secret spot as the pleasure built, and twisted, and burned.
‘Please... I...’ She couldn’t talk, couldn’t really say what it was she wanted. She’d never felt so exposed or so needy before, her senses heightened beyond what she could bear.
‘I’ve got you, Belle, just relax.’
She tried to do as he asked as the tension gripped her body.
Then he eased one thick finger—with aching slowness—into her. She bucked, shocked by the intrusion, which triggered a bolt of pleasure so immense her desperation increased.
Then his thumb touched the very heart of her. The violent pleasure centred and crested—fierce and raw and unstoppable—shooting her over the edge, the vicious coil releasing in a rush.
She cried out as he worked her through the staggering sensations. She clung to his neck, bucking against his hand, as she rode that unending, unendurable wave of bliss to her limits and beyond.
The waves of orgasm weakened at last. Her whole body shook as he finally released her from the decadent torture. The glittering afterglow gave way to brutal reality as he clasped her waist and murmured against her neck.
‘Ready for round two?’
She opened her eyes to find him watching her intently, his gaze dark with yearning. The long column of flesh thrust against her back as his palm moved to cup her backside.
She lurched away from the possessive touch. ‘I... We can’t.’
‘No?’ The fog of desire cleared a little. ‘Why not?’ Her heart lurched in her chest as he bracketed her hips, the thick ridge cradled against her bottom. ‘It’s just sex.’
Except it’s not just sex to me.
She turned, folding shaky arms back over her breasts—which were still tender from his ministrations.
Why had she let it go this far?
She wanted to believe theirs was nothing more than a strong physical connection—as he did—and perhaps the culmination of denying this aspect of her life for far too long. But her heart continued to do somersaults in her chest, and she knew she felt something for him, something she had never felt for another man, or she would never have let him dismantle her defences so thoroughly.
‘I... I need to go to bed,’ she said, frantic now, as well as scared. ‘We have a long day tomorrow.’
One dark eyebrow hiked up his forehead. ‘For real?’
‘I’m sorry.’ She eased past him, the fear rioting now, the feel of those strong fingers on her, inside her, still humming in her sex. ‘I can’t...’
She glanced down, aware of the thick erection straining against the front of his shorts, the outline making the throbbing in her sex worse.
‘I’m not on any birth control...’ she lied, grasping at a way to extricate herself with some degree of dignity. And poise. And conceal from him how utterly he’d overwhelmed her.
‘I’ve got condoms,’ he offered.
‘But I can’t risk...’ she began.
‘It’s okay, Belle, we can always take a rain check,’ he said, the passion clearing from his eyes to be replaced by—well, nothing. She couldn’t tell if he was angry with her or not. ‘This isn’t a transaction,’ he murmured, his expression shuttered and unreadable.
Was he angry? Could he sense her distress?
‘Thank you, for being so understanding,’ she said, in a desperate attempt to distance herself again. But what else could she do? She’d let him see too much.
He’d given her something incredible, something she hadn’t really believed existed until this moment. But beneath the woman he had awakened was that little girl who could be hurt far too easily—if she let herself want too much.
She needed time to rebuild her defences. And to close down the aching vulnerability in her heart, which he would never understand.
‘Right,’ he said, the slight edge in his voice making her feel ashamed once again of her cowardice.
She dashed from the bathroom and locked the connecting door.
It took her hours to finally fall asleep, though, her body still humming from his caresses—as she listened to him showering and imagined him naked and aroused.
By the time she finally fell into a fitful sleep, she had examined and discarded every possible outcome of her foolish decision to become intimate with her fake husband...
And every one of them was a disaster, starting with how on earth she was going to survive ten nights in his home in Colorado with her dignity and her sense of self intact. Because he had a power over her now that wasn’t equal, or equitable. And she had already committed much more to this relationship than she could possibly afford to lose.