“That was . . . that was . . .” Her husky voice petered out.
He closed his eyes and remembered the moment of delicious resistance as he penetrated her body. “Yes, it was.”
“No wonder you’re the toast of London’s ladies.” He heard a sardonic and unwelcome hint of Miss Smith.
He didn’t want to talk about his other lovers. Damn it, he didn’t want to talk at all. He wanted her under him again. After that gasping release, he’d believed himself exhausted, but she already had him hardening. He hadn’t been this hot for a woman since adolescence. Whatever magic she possessed, it was powerful.
“Come here,” he said lazily. “You’re too far away.”
She turned to stare at the trees and starlight sculpted her profile, the high forehead, the straight nose, the delicate, stubborn jaw. Again a fleeting wisp of memory troubled him. He’d seen those features or something very like before. But right now he was too distracted to pursue the faint recollection.
He noticed her lips turned down. Why? He knew she’d found her pleasure.
“Antonia?” he asked when she didn’t immediately answer.
He didn’t like to think her sad. Which was absurd. He’d make her bitterly sad before he was done. Even apart from Cassie’s ruin, he wasn’t a man who offered happy endings.
She turned and studied him through the darkness. She didn’t move any closer, devil take her. “They’ll miss me if I’m away much longer.”
What? He felt disoriented. He wanted more than one tumble, breathtaking as it had been.
He straightened and grabbed her hand. “We haven’t finished.”
“Yes, we have,” she said with an implacability he couldn’t mistake. She jerked her hand free and slipped along the bench away from him.
He’d been so sure she’d want to explore the glittering universe of desire. Again his arrogance led to assumptions. He should know by now any assumptions about Antonia were likely wrong. He never pleaded with a woman. He found himself pleading now. “There’s no danger of discovery. Stay.”
The low-voiced request hovered in the air for a fraught second. It was as though he asked more than the next hour. As though he asked for forever.
Damn it. He never asked for forever.
This was the first time he’d regretted that grim reality.
Hell, fucking her was supposed to simplify everything, scratch his itch, send him off with a few fine memories and a sigh of relief that the madness ended.
Instead the sex left him floundering like a drowning man. The joy he’d discovered only promised more and greater joy. His mind was roiling confusion. All he knew was he didn’t want Antonia to leave.
Passion clouded his thoughts. Away from her, he’d be free. The hell of it was he didn’t want to be away from her.
“Nicholas . . .”
She paused, giving him time to savor how readily she used his Christian name. He wanted her crying out his name when he drove into her. He wanted to obliterate all memory of previous lovers. She’d think only of him.
He was a selfish bastard, he knew. She could leave now and remain relatively unscathed. But he loathed the idea of her treating him as a fleeting fancy.
“Stay,” he repeated softly. Into that one low word, he injected all the persuasion he’d learned through years of debauchery.
All his persuasion did him no good. “I can’t.”
Hell, surel
y he could change her mind. The impulse surged to grab her but he wanted her consent first.
“I treated you roughly.” Hoarse sincerity edged his voice. Just because he set out to subvert her will didn’t mean everything he said was a lie. “My behavior was inexcusable. My only explanation is you’ve driven me insane. I’ll be kinder next time.”
He’d thought pleading was difficult. Any moment now he’d be apologizing. He never apologized.
Her short laugh contained no amusement. “Don’t be a fool, Nicholas. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to.”