“No. You’re hurting me.”
He loosened his hold. “My apolo—”
She slithered up until she was able to wrap her legs around his waist. She squeezed. Damn, but the woman had powerful thighs, and he imagined her holding on to him just like this as he pounded into her, rode her hard, fast, and with purpose. “You little trickster.”
“That was far too easy.”
Releasing his hold on her wrists, he lowered his elbows to the floor, bringing his chest in contact with hers—or at least her bosom. She had an awfully fine bosom. He cradled her face betweenhis hands. “You beguiled me. So have you never married?”
“Never.”
“That’s unusual for a woman of your years.”
“Have you not yet realized I’m an unusual woman?”
Oh, he’d realized it, was intrigued by it. “Come close?”
“No. Your name was bandied about as a potential suitor for several ladies. Did you ever set your cap on one?”
He had narrowed his selection down to one but hadn’t yet begun his courtship in earnest when his life fell apart. At the time he’d been grateful that he’d not brought disgrace to her. On occasion, he wondered if she might have cast him aside as Althea’s betrothed had done to her. He realized too late that he’d become distracted, lost in the memories. Sacrificed his advantage.
Esme clenched her jaw and squeezed her legs into a viselike grip that had him cursing while triumph glittered in her eyes, brightening the gold, giving the shade of her eyes an unholy gleam. He shouldn’t be mesmerized by her, but damn, he was. Levering himself up, he reached back with one arm and grabbed her calf, striving to break free of her hold. She gave no quarter. He didn’t know if he’d ever had such an impressive challenger.
He rocked, rolling to the side, back, then forward. She clung on tenaciously.
“Give up,” she ground out through clampedteeth, her head lifting from the mat with her efforts to keep him secured.
“The devil I will.” No rules in this sort of an encounter. He decided to take advantage of the lack of them. Grabbing the swinging tail of her hair, he twisted his hand until the long strands curled around his fist. Holding her in place, he latched his mouth onto hers and plundered.
God help her. Never in her life had Esme ever surrendered so swiftly, so absolutely, without remorse or regret, although she was fairly certain both would visit her later. When she could think clearly.
At the moment, however, thought was beyond her capabilities. All she could do was feel. The sweep of his tongue across hers. The hunger, the yearning, the desire. The heat of his mouth as it consumed hers. This was no prelude to battle. It was complete conquest.
She’d allowed it to happen because she’d desperately wanted it to. From the moment he’d tossed his shirt aside and provided her with a view of the expanse of his chest and bared shoulders, she’d wanted to touch, to stroke, to rub. Just as she had the night when she’d tended his wound. She’d known it was unwise to step into the ring, that her resistance to the lure of him was not as it should be. Even now, with her legs sprawled on either side of him and the hard evidence of his desire nudging against her mound,she’d never known such power in surrender—because he hadn’t won. If the groans vibrating within his throat and through his chest were any indication, he was as helpless as she was to this attraction that had been simmering between them, probably since the moment she’d first glided into her parlor and they’d set eyes upon each other.
Based on their encounter at Podmore’s, she’d known he was a man who would give no quarter, that he would always throw himself into a kiss with the same determination and enthusiasm he exhibited when searching for traitors, when confronting ruffians in an alleyway, when struggling with the truth of his father.
With her hair bound around one hand, he held her in place while he rolled to his back, bringing her with him. His other hand skimmed along her spine, pressing her to his magnificent chest. Bringing her own hands up, she cradled his jaw, taking the kiss deeper, exploring his mouth with the same care and attention to detail she gave any new source of information, searching for the hidden gems that would bring satisfaction.
Growling low, he cupped the curve of her bum with a large, powerful hand, his fingers digging in, then soothing. She was grateful for the trousers that provided only a thin layer of material between his skin and hers.
Pulling gently on her hair, he lifted her mouth from his and nibbled his way along the underside of her jaw. “I’ll grant you the victory,” he rasped.
“It was mine, rightfully earned.”
Releasing his hold on the long strands, he cradled her face and held her gaze. She didn’t like how easy it was to fall into the blue depths of his eyes or how badly she wanted his mouth ravishing hers again. There was such passion in his actions that she could almost believe he found her desirable beyond the limits of lust. Certainly she’d had her share of men wanting to bed her, but she suspected she was quickly forgotten after they left her—whether she’d succumbed to their charms or not. She didn’t want Marcus Stanwick to forget her.
Gathering herself up, she slid off him, nearly mournful at the absence of his heat, his body, against hers. Needing more distance between them, she scooted away until her back hit the ropes. “Will you give up your pursuit now that you know for certain that your father was involved?”
He shoved himself to a sitting position, folded his legs before him, and rested his elbows on his thighs. “I’m more determined than ever to get to the truth.”
Relief swamped her because their association would continue for a while longer, and she fought very hard not to let her gladness reveal itself. Reaching up casually as though every nerve ending wasn’t joyous, she untied the ribbon holding her hair in place and shook out the strands. “Your shoulder is bleeding.”
He glanced down at the trail of blood that had seeped out between the stitches. “Easily stanched.”
She shoved herself to her feet. “Why don’t you see to it? I need a bath. We’ll meet in the library in an hour to determine where we go from here, shall we?”
“After what transpired between us a little while ago, it might be a wiser course to go our separate ways.”
