Too Wicked To Kiss Part 35

The movement swept her b.r.e.a.s.t.s over his chest, her nipples hardening as they sc.r.a.ped across the hairs. She sucked in a startled breath at the unexpected pleasure, then did it again. Her entire body responded, heating, moistening, quickening.

His eyes closed briefly, as if in pain. She kissed his lips, his neck, his jaw. Rough stubble scratched at her mouth. She licked him, tasted him, kissed him. And began to wonder what that familiar texture would feel like against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s instead of her mouth. She broke the kiss, inched a little further upward, lifted her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in her hands. His gaze locked on the display.

"Anything I wish?" she asked again.

"Anything." The word came out strangled.

She leaned forward until her b.r.e.a.s.t.s grazed the side of his face. She pivoted slightly, letting the line of his jaw sc.r.a.pe against one nipple at a time. When her body clenched in response, her eyes widened.

"No matter what I rub against you," she murmured, "I feel feverish, aching, needing."

"Thank G.o.d," Gavin muttered. "Me, too."

She splayed her fingers on the pillows above his head and leaned over to allow her unfettered b.r.e.a.s.t.s to fall against his face as they would.

He grabbed her hips, tilted his head, and suckled a puckered nipple into his mouth. Her legs trembled. Without releasing her breast from his mouth, he slid one hand over her thigh and tilted the pad of a finger against her damp core. She whimpered. He continued his tender a.s.sault with his hand and his tongue, teasing, licking, rubbing, nibbling.

When he slid his finger inside, the pressure proved too much. She cried out, tensed, her muscles spasming as the waves of pleasure hit her. When the aftershocks faded, he slipped his hand from her. She fell forward, panting against the pillow, cheek to cheek with him.

"Sorry," he murmured, not sounding the tiniest bit contrite. "I meant to wait for you to ask."

"Somehow, I'll find it in my heart to forgive you."

He chuckled.

"If," she began, and lifted her head.

He stopped chuckling.

"If," she repeated, "you make love to me right this second."

"Thank you, G.o.d," he muttered.

Before she had a chance to so much as blink, his hands gripped her hips and he rolled them both over in one fluid movement. He trapped her wrists to the pillows on either side of her head and kissed her.

Without lifting his mouth from hers, he nudged her legs apart with his knee, settled himself between her thighs, rubbed his c.o.c.k against her core just as she'd done when straddling him. Just that quickly, the tingling, trembling pressure returned. Every inch of her body yearned for him.

"I said," she breathed against his mouth, "right this second."

He tilted his hips. A tantalizing pressure nudged her throbbing, swollen flesh, rubbed against her wetness, dipped a little inside. The brief twinge of pain dissipated under the onslaught of amazing new sensations. He slid the tip of his tongue across her lower lip, across her teeth, into her mouth, every thrust mimicking that which he did with his c.o.c.k until both tongue and shaft were buried inside of her. She gasped into his mouth. Incredible. He cupped the back of her head, kissed her.

She bit him, suckled him. He rocked his hips against hers, urgent, strong, driving himself deeper inside. His pelvis rubbed against her with an almost unbearable pleasure. She bent her knees, gripped him with her thighs, met him thrust for thrust. This must be what it felt like to truly share one's soul. She couldn't have chosen a better man.

His limbs tensed and flexed as he moved inside her. When she bit back a helpless moan, he broke the kiss, panting, the hair across his forehead damp with sweat.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, cradling her to him.

She smiled. "You told me that already."

"Did I tell you I've dreamt of this? this?" A deep, claiming thrust accompanied the last word.

Her eyelids fluttered. "So have I."

"You're perfect."

"So are you."

"Ha." Still buried inside her, he grabbed her wrists and rolled onto his back. "Straddle me."

"What happened to me giving the orders?" Hands splayed on his chest, she pushed herself upright and trembled when his shaft s.h.i.+fted inside her.

"Ride me," he commanded, his gaze dark and heated. "You can control the rhythm. I'll match my movements to yours."

She tensed her thighs, rose up, lowered. He slid his palm from her knee to her hip, then down across her stomach until his thumb circled the area just above their joined bodies. When she fell forward, he captured one breast in his mouth, sucked, bit, licked. He bent his knees so her rear rested against his thighs, angling his shaft even further inside her. His fingers never stopped their exquisite torment of steady circular strokes.

Her body clenched, once, twice.

"Gavin," she gasped. "You're making me...I'm going to..."

He lifted his mouth from her breast long enough to say, "Do it." He continued tilting his hips, filling her, stroking her. "Come for me," he whispered.

She couldn't help it. She cried out, shattered against him, gripped his torso with her thighs. His shaft jerked inside her, throbbed against her contracting muscles, filled her with something hot and wet. He took her mouth in a demanding kiss.

Muscles trembling, she collapsed atop his chest. She lay there several minutes listening to his racing heart slowly return to its normal pace. The musky scent of their lovemaking filled the room.

He stroked her hair from her face, kissed the top of her head, wrapped his arms around her, and held her tight.

"I could make love to you for the rest of my life," he murmured into her hair.

She nodded against his chest. "I'm going to miss you."

He paused, tensed, pressed his lips fiercely against her forehead. "If I was ensured of living long enough to follow through on a promise, I would make you one now. You're not the kind of woman a man can just walk away from."

She shook her head, lifted her chin to make eye contact with him. "It's all right. I've never been the marrying kind." At the moment, however, she couldn't remember why that was. "But I don't want you to walk away. Not yet. I'm still awake. I want you to stay all night, and love me again. Will you?"

"Of course." He tilted his neck forward, kissed her. "I can't help it."

"Thank you." Evangeline rubbed her thumb along the edge of his jaw, smoothing the bristly stubble, tracing the line of his scar. "How did you get this?"

"Dueling."

Her eyes widened. "Dueling?"

"Not over anything honorable, trust me."

She kissed the scar, then his lips. "Then over what?"

"A girl. My brother's girl. David caught us kissing and called me out immediately. We couldn't duel with pistols because we were the only heirs and my father would've killed us both. David chose rapiers, said we would fight till first blood. I'll always believe he meant to slice open my neck. I didn't blame him, then or now." Gavin glanced away, as if unwilling or unable to meet her eyes. "I told you I wasn't a good person."

"How old were you?"

"Sixteen, same as the girl. David was twenty."

"What happened to the girl?"

Gavin gave a wry chuckle. "He married her. Not long after, my parents died. I haven't seen my brother since."

"How many duels have you fought since then?"

He finally glanced at her, frowned. "None."

"Stolen kisses from anybody else's fiancee?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Then I don't think you're a bad person. You made a mistake."

"I make lots of mistakes. I'm impulsive. Careless. Selfish."

"You may have been in the past, but you're not now. You're the most selfless, caring man I've ever known."

"That's because you've only managed to be around men who are even bigger p.r.i.c.ks than I am." He tried to dispel the shame of his words with a smile, but his eyes were tortured.

"Stop it." She gripped his chin with one hand and crushed her lips to his. "I wouldn't make love to you if I thought you were an irredeemable blackguard. Over a decade has pa.s.sed since then. You were young. People change."

"Do they?"

"I think so. I like you just the way you are." think so. I like you just the way you are."

His c.o.c.k stirred. "I like you just the way you you are." are."

"Just don't duel over me," she teased, pulse racing at the thought.

"I will if I want to," he growled, flipping her over and driving his shaft inside her. "If you so much as think about kissing another man, I swear I'll meet him at dawn."

"I would never," she gasped, locking her legs around his thighs. "Only you. I promise."

"Good." He laced her fingers with his, crushed his mouth to hers, pumped his hips.

She arched against him, hands locked with his. "How much longer are you mine to command?"

Her heart pounded so loud, she almost didn't hear his whispered reply.

"For as long as I live."

Chapter Twenty-Four.

Gavin was still in Evangeline's bedchamber when the sun rose. He'd meant to quit the room when she fell asleep, but couldn't make himself leave her earlier than absolutely necessary. So he stayed, stroking her hair, watching her sleep, holding her close.

And realized what a precious gift she'd given him.

Not just her virginity-although that had seemed a miracle, too-but even more precious than that, she'd given him her unconditional trust. He hadn't forced her to do so. He'd somehow earned it.

She would not make love to a murderer. She would not fall asleep in the arms of a man of irredeemable evil. She said so herself, did she not? She believed in him, even when all evidence suggested she should not.

It was a new sensation, being trusted implicitly. He hadn't lied to her-he'd been an incorrigible youth. Amazing that he hadn't been forced to duel on a regular basis. Nor had he lied when he said he'd call out any man who dared to touch her. Sweat beaded on his skin at the very thought. Horrifying.

He pulled her closer into his arms. When she left, he wouldn't have much say over it, would he? He wouldn't even be there. Might never see her again at all.

Unacceptable.

But what could he do about it? They were no closer to solving Hetherington's murder than when they began. Edmund and Francine had flat-out said they believed him responsible. His own family regarded him with suspicion. The way that Stanton woman sent off missives, the constabulary would arrive with a rope and shackles any day now.

Legalities of guardians.h.i.+p aside, he could hardly ask Evangeline to stay with him when he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to stay himself. If he truly cared for her, he would have to let her go. Give her a bagful of money. Send her off in his best coach. Hope she thought of him once in awhile.

He should give her something to take with her. A memento of the short time they had together. Something to let her know they would always be together in his heart.

But what? Jewelry? A nice long string of pearls, perhaps. Something that even if she wrapped it thrice around her neck, the longest strand would dip across the slope of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, brus.h.i.+ng against the tender skin where the pale curves met with the trim of her bodice.

No. There was no time to order anything. She planned to leave today.

What did he have to give her? Nothing. Neither literally nor figuratively. She deserved better. She should be in bed with a better man than him. She should be...but he would die before giving her up to another. Bad enough he couldn't protect her from her stepfather. He could hardly ask her to stay at the very house she'd seen herself being abducted from.

He'd rather her leave him for safety than be taken by force. Maybe she'd even let him join her, wherever she planned to go. He'd promised Jane a new wardrobe when Madame Rousseau arrived in a couple days. He could say his goodbyes and slip away in the excitement of new clothes. Perhaps save himself a trip to the gallows in the process. Would Rose let him visit if he were a fugitive from justice? He certainly couldn't visit if he were dead.

Evangeline tilted toward him, snuggled closer, opened her eyes.

"What a grim expression," came her sleep-thickened voice. "What are you thinking about?"

"Death," he answered. "By hanging."

She stared at him for a second, then sighed. "Good morning to you, too."

"I'm sorry," he said, instantly contrite. He should've said "puppies" or "lemon ices." Yet another fine example of the many ways he wasn't good enough for her.

He bent down and kissed her anyway. When he lifted his head, her expression was still pensive.

"If I'm leaving anyway," she said slowly, "I don't see why I can't just admit I was with you in your office. Who cares about my reputation if I can save you from the gallows?"

He shook his head. "Wouldn't work."

"Why not?"