She drank him dry. Only then did she raise her head and stare along his flat belly and hard chest. His eyes were closed, his thick lashes quivering on his cheeks as he gasped. He looked like a man who had measured the outer reaches of sin and hadn’t yet returned to the bounds of reality.
She’d expected to be revolted, but when she’d taken Ashcroft in her mouth, she’d felt more a woman than ever before. She’d sensed both the power of his masculinity and the vulnerability of his humanity.
Slowly she rose, wiping her mouth. When she licked her lips, a new taste lingered. Ashcroft…
She knelt at his side as she had when she’d begun. In an exhausted caress, his hand slid from her hair to lie open at his side. He looked like he couldn’t move to save himself from a tidal wave.
“Take off that damned dress.” A sliver of green shone between his lashes, and his breathing gradually steadied.
“Clothing gives me the advantage.” She found decadent gratification in having this man, omnipotent outside this room, naked and at her mercy.
A reminiscent smile curved his lips. Her heart, which had only just resumed its normal rate, battered her ribs, then set off on another race.
“You don’t need special advantages,” he said softly. “I’m all yours.”
At last he looked directly at her. His eyes were bright jade. They were always that color when he was happy. It was an unwelcome shock to realize how well she’d come to know him. Another twist in the skein of inescapable intimacy.
“If I’d gu
essed that was how to vanquish you, I’d have done it much earlier,” she said lightly, even as her blood pounded fast and hard with excitement.
Sudden concern shadowed his gaze, and he rested one hand on her thigh. It was where he’d touched her before, curling his fist in her skirts, but this contact was soothing, comforting…affectionate. After the passion, this gesture emerged from a different world. A world beyond the deception and desire that trapped her.
“Are you all right?” He met her eyes with an expression as deep as the ocean.
She tried to stop her wayward heart melting. It was too late. Her defenses crumbled more quickly than a wafer dipped in hot tea.
“Yes, I’m all right,” she said in a choked voice.
Her assurance didn’t seem to convince. Given the way she sounded, she couldn’t blame him for doubting.
How could she say her regrets focused on why she came to his bed, not on anything she did while here?
“I swear I didn’t mean to…”
Flood her mouth with his seed? She was surprised he found it difficult to articulate what he’d done. How she wished she didn’t find his demurral so charming. “I liked it.”
What an understatement. If she told him exactly what she’d felt, she’d leave herself too vulnerable.
His hand tightened on her leg. “You’re magnificent.”
What did one say in response to that? “Thank you,” she muttered.
He laughed. “You’re most welcome. You’d be more welcome if you were naked.”
“You won’t be much use to me even if I’m naked,” she said with faint challenge.
The smile teasing his lips broadened, and the green eyes took on a devilish glint. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”
Her attention dropped to his organ. To her astonishment, it twitched as if responding to physical contact. Anticipation seared her. In spite of that titanic release, he’d have no difficulty performing.
She slid off the bed to stand on the richly colored rug. He piled pillows under his head and propped himself up to watch her.
She loved this dress. As the irreproachable Marchioness of Burnley, she’d never wear such a seductive garment again. In this dress, she’d seduced a notorious rake into incoherent pleasure. In this dress, she’d come closer to freedom than ever before. In spite of how lies and self-interest strangled her.
The time for teasing games was over.
She presented her back and stood trembling as Ashcroft unlaced her. Then with shaking hands, she ripped the red gown off and pitched it unheeded into the corner. Beneath she only wore a shift. Undergarments seemed a coy lie.