He rubbed his palm against her breast. Despite everything she knew about him and about what this reckless act would cost her, she nudged her hips closer to his seeking fingers.
Again he kissed her. Eager kisses that demolished resistance. Kisses that weighted her belly with impossible longing. Kisses that seemed designed to wipe out any memory of the betraying kiss that had so angered him. For a fleeting moment, he’d treated her like the one woman in a million. Now he was completely the rake, interested merely in losing himself in hot female flesh for an instant’s pleasure he’d forget just as quickly.
Even recognizing that, she couldn’t stop herself responding to his mouth. Kissing him back with a passion so scorching, flames ignited behind her closed eyes. The merciless onslaught of desire left her giddy and disoriented. She’d never wanted a man the way she wanted Ranelaw. Her body wept to have him inside her, filling the emptiness.
She felt like she was falling and only realized he edged her toward the ground when her back met cushioning grass. He straddled her and tore at her bodice with urgent hands. The ruthless efficiency of his actions pierced her daze.
She grabbed his hand. “Ranelaw, we can’t.”
He bent to nuzzle the side of her neck. “Of course we can.”
“This won’t help you get to Cassie,” she forced herself to say. Speaking her cousin’s name seemed sacrilege when Antonia sprawled beneath him.
He released a gasp of laughter. “Cassie who?”
“Ranelaw . . .”
“Nicholas.”
What point pretending any formality existed between them? “Nicholas.”
“Now say, ‘Yes, Nicholas.’ ” He stroked her throat, lingering where her pulse fluttered against her skin. His touch was hot and stoked her need.
“No, Nicholas.”
He rose on his arms and stared at her. He’d never looked so handsome. His golden hair was ruffled and one lock tumbled across his high forehead, softening features that could seem austere for all their beauty. His eyes gleamed under heavy eyelids and his nostrils flared as if he lived by her scent.
She studied his face, seeking some hint of the man who had kissed her so sweetly. None existed. Appetite gripped him. And beneath the arousal, he was still angry. She felt it in his hands and his mouth, even through the pleasure, even through the seductive words.
He wanted her. But he also set out to prove something. Something that required her debasement while he maintained his distance.
Was he troubled beneath that perfect façade? Was she mistaken to imagine a better man wandered lost in the murk of Lord Ranelaw’s soul? Or did she romanticize him the way Cassie romanticized him? The way she’d romanticized hopelessly weak Johnny Benton?
Nonetheless as she stared into his blazing eyes, her heart contracted with longing. She sensed Ranelaw needed her. Beyond the gratification of a sexual itch, he demanded something essential and profound from her. Something even he didn’t recognize.
Stop it, Antonia. You know a rake’s tricks. Yet you fall for them as easily now as you did ten years ago.
“Admit it, Antonia. You’ve lost the battle.”
“Have I really?” She couldn’t resist smoothing the wayward lock that flopped across his forehead.
“Yes,” he snapped, the seductive mask shattering. Like that, the quivering moment that promised more than mere physical satisfaction vanished.
He jerked his head away from her soothing touch as if she burned him. For all the hostility bristling between them, his rejection stung. This time, his mouth was hard when he kissed her. He ripped at her jacket and roughly cupped her breast through the thin shirt.
“Wait,” she gasped, shoving at his shoulders.
To her surprise, he heard. He raised his head and stared unseeing at her. Before the unemotional shell descended, she caught something in the black eyes that might have been shame.
“I don’t want to wait.” He jerked his hips against hers to emphasize his readiness.
The moisture dried from her mouth as she imagined that powerful weight thrusting into her. Even in his current temper, she ached to feel him inside her.
“Let me go.” She struggled for words to persuade him to stop. “It shouldn’t be like this.”
He bared his teeth in a snarl and for the first time, she realized his anger went far beyond a momentary impatience or irritation. It stemmed from deep within. “How the hell should it be?”
With love . . .