Chapter 20
“You stayed away for more than a week, Red,” Sebastian said, his voice roughened with restraint. “Did I hurt you, or frighten you?”
Something in his eyes darkened, as though he could not bear the possibility that he had hurt her or frightened her away. A lump rose in Darcy’s throat, and she touched the corner of his mouth with aching tenderness.
“No, you did not hurt me,” she replied softly.
“Then what happened?” he urged, his tone low and intent.
Her stomach fluttered, while her heart ached with a sensation she had never before known. “It was simply… too good. I do not wish to lose any part of myself to you.”
An emotion she could not decipher entered his gaze. He curled a finger beneath her chin and stroked her cheek with his thumb. Sebastian lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss to the exposed arch of her throat. “Would that be so terrible, Red?”
A strange, painful emotion surged through her heart. “Yes.”
“These last few days, I have missed your scent and the taste of your skin,” he murmured roughly, drawing her fragrance deep into his lungs.
“I am losing some damned part of myself as well, for I cannot cease thinking of you. Would it truly be so terrible if we surrendered to this mutual desire for as long as we both wished it?”
She let out a quiet laugh, though there was little humor in it. “Do you offer me marriage?”
“No.”
The swiftness of his answer struck deeper than she cared to acknowledge, and Darcy pushed the sensation aside.
It was foolish to feel wounded by the limits of an attachment that could only ever be fleeting.
Yet she wished, with quiet desperation, that it might be otherwise.
In some impossible corner of her heart, she longed to spend a lifetime with him, to learn every facet of his nature, and to build something enduring in place of these stolen moments.
He captivated her in a way she could neither deny nor resist, and she knew, with devastating clarity, that each moment spent in his company would only deepen what had already begun.
Darcy held his gaze, allowing him to see every emotion burning within her. “If there is no permanence, what is the point of burning in this madness?”
“Pleasure is reason enough. It need not promise permanence to be real.”
“Spoken like a Sybarite.”
The slightest smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “I have never pretended to be governed by restraint.”
“No…you did not,” Darcy said softly, an ache stirring inside her chest.
“Is that what you want from me? Something more than a lover?”
Perhaps a friend, she thought. Aloud, she said, “No.”
His gaze searched hers, as though he sought to see beyond Red and discover the woman concealed beneath the mask. Darcy could offer no answer to that silent scrutiny, for the woman she became in his arms was still a revelation even to herself.
She had never been so daring in all her life.
Yet when the time came to leave this hidden existence behind, whether in months or years, she knew she would not emerge from it unchanged.
Sebastian had awakened something within her that could not simply be tucked away with the red wig and mask.
Some part of the woman she was becoming would always bear the imprint of having known him.
Darcy reached for the buttons of his waistcoat, her fingers trembling, but determined.
“I want to see you,” she said, the words coming with a breathless honesty she could no longer restrain.
“All of you. I want to learn your shape and feel beneath my hands. I want to discover what pleases you, where you like to be touched.” Her gaze dropped briefly to his mouth before returning to his eyes.
“And I want to know what it is like to touch you with my mouth. I have never known a man this way, Sebastian, and I find myself wanting to know everything about you.”
His head dipped closer to hers, until the warmth of his breath brushed her lips. “Then I am yours to explore as you please. Where would you begin?”
She rose onto her toes, brushed her mouth against his, and said, “I want to take your cock into my mouth and taste you.”
He stilled her hands with his own, his eyes searching hers. “You have never—”
“No,” she interrupted softly. “But I want to. With you.”
Hunger flashed in his eyes, and a flush worked its way over his cheekbones.
She brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, then traced the corner of his mouth with one fingertip.
His warm, masculine scent filled her senses.
“I remember how you looked when I painted you, how striking you were. There was a strength in you that commanded attention, a beauty almost unfair in its perfection. Yet beneath it lay something darker, something untamed, a touch of wickedness that made it impossible to look away. I began to want you then.”
His gaze burned with such naked lust that the force of it stole her breath.
Then, to her astonishment, quiet awe settled over Sebastian’s features, as though no lover had ever spoken to him in such a manner.
He released her hands and allowed her to continue.
She worked the buttons free with clumsy, eager fingers, pushing the garment from his shoulders.
His cravat followed, then his shirt, baring his chest to her hungry gaze.
She had studied paintings and statues of men, the classical forms of Apollo and Adonis, but none had prepared her for the reality of him.
She drank in the breadth of his shoulders, the light dusting of dark hair arrowing down his chest, and the way his muscles tensed beneath her exploring fingers.
She traced the line of his collarbone, the hollow of his throat, the hard plane of his stomach.
He stood motionless, letting her explore, his breath quickening with each touch.
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his chest, tasting salt and warmth.
Her tongue darted out, tracing a slow path down his sternum, and he groaned, his hands fisting at his sides.
“Red,” he warned, his voice strained.
She looked up at him through her lashes, a wicked smile curving her lips. “You told me to take what I want.”
She sank to her knees before him, her hands finding the fastenings of his breeches.
He sucked in a sharp breath as she freed him, his thick length springing free, and she marveled at the sight of him—the proud curve, the velvet-soft skin over rigid heat, the pearl of moisture at the tip.
Darcy had painted this proud length and taken it into her body, yet she had never touched it with her hands.
Tentatively, she leaned forward and ran her tongue along the underside of his shaft.
Sebastian shuddered, a guttural sound tearing from his throat.
Emboldened, Darcy took him into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip, savoring the taste of him—musky, utterly male.
His hands found her hair, gripping without pulling, and he breathed Red as though it were a prayer.
She laved him with her tongue, then drew his cock into her mouth again, sucking him as greedily as though he were some forbidden sweet.
Each moan and involuntary tightening filled Darcy with awe that she could give him so much pleasure.
His evident enjoyment sharpened her own need until a deep ache gathered between her thighs and her sex grew mortifyingly wet.
Sebastian trembled beneath the worship of her mouth, every broken sound urging her onward.
“Enough,” he rasped, pulling her gently away. “If you continue, I will not last.”
He drew her to her feet and began to undress her with a patience that made Darcy’s pulse quicken.
There was nothing hurried in the way he removed each layer.
He eased her gown from her shoulders, then bent to press a soft kiss to the newly bared skin, lingering there until warmth spread beneath her flesh.
When he straightened, his gaze met hers before his hands returned to her clothing.
Piece by piece, he revealed her. Between each discarded garment came another kiss, sometimes to her mouth, sometimes to her cheek or the sensitive curve of her throat, each one gentle enough to make the anticipation almost unbearable.
Darcy found herself scarcely breathing as she waited for his hands to return, every newly exposed inch of skin seeming more sensitive beneath his attention.
Her stays followed, and then her chemise, until the final barrier slipped away and she stood before him as bare as he was. For one suspended moment, Darcy could only look at him, her heart beating wildly, exquisitely conscious of the intimacy of standing before him with nothing left to conceal her.
Sebastian’s eyes moved over her with something that felt almost like reverence, lingering upon the curve of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the dark triangle of curls between her thighs.
“You are exquisite,” he breathed, and lifted her onto the bed.
“I daresay you offer that compliment to every lady,” she drawled, though pleasure unfurled warmly within her beneath the ravenous appreciation of his stare.
Sebastian went still.
The change was so unexpected that Darcy’s teasing smile faded. Surprise flashed across his features, followed by something more introspective, as though her careless remark had revealed a truth about himself he had never before considered.
“I have never lavished praise upon another lover,” he said quietly. A faint crease appeared between his brows. “How…unlike me.”
Darcy stared at him. She had meant only to tease. Yet there was no practiced charm in his expression now, no rakish amusement meant to flatter her into surrender. He seemed genuinely disconcerted by the realization.