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A shaft of hurt slammed into Elliot’s chest, and he ruthlessly buried the telling emotion. Emma wanted him to make love to her, pretending he did not know her identity. Why the hell did that hurt so much?
“Amelia…” he bit back his groan as she twisted and slid her hands around his nape, then thrust her fingers through his hair.
She wanted to walk on the wild side. With him? She needed to regain her wits and good senses. Yet the burning desire to succumb to the raging need he’d had for her for years, to draw her into a world of debauched delight ravaged his control.
She pressed her body closer to his, and he could feel every inch of her delectable curves. “I only want tonight, Elliot.”
Her voice rang with sincerity, but he could not allow it. His gut burned in denial and cramped in protest. He gripped her hips preventing her from pressing closer. It would not do for her to know how much she had aroused him. “I don’t fuck virgins,” he said flatly.
She flinched at his crudity, then swallowed.
How he regretted speaking to her in such a manner.
“I’m worldly enough.”
He narrowed his gaze taking in her slight blush, and he could see the racing pulse at the base of her neck. His next words were painful to push past his throat, but he could not let her even hope tonight would have the outcome she desired. “I am not a man who is gentle and sweet, princess. You obviously came here tonight for something. That is not with me.”
There was a pregnant pause, and then her hands tightened at his nape. “If you do not make love I can f—” she licked her lips. “I can do what you want.”
Elliot could not help himself. He laughed. She stiffened, obviously stung at his reaction. Pressing her deeper into the hidden alcove, he dipped his head, his lips perilously close to hers. “You can’t even say the word princess, and it is for this reason I am taking you home. You do not know what you are asking. What I want to do to you would scare you, and have you running,” he said low and hard, hopefully, mean enough where it would shake her up and encourage her to stop acting recklessly.
Her chin lifted, her lips too damned close, brushing against his. “I will not run.”
Yes, you are…to America.
“I must say you will, because I’ll debauch every one of your ladylike sensibilities, and I know you cannot handle that.”
Her voice was breathless, sensual yet questioning, “How?”
He chuckled in disbelief watching her try to process his meaning. Without thinking too deeply about his actions, he inched her gown up to her thighs, his fingers skimming over silken stockings. He was not seductive about it, just matter of fact in his lesson. And he prayed to God she understood this lesson as it was the only way to save them. To save him.
Her breath hitched as he nudged her legs wide and cupped her. Elliot froze. Ah, Sweet Mercy. She was wet. He battled against the primal urge to drop to one knee, push her legs wider, and taste her. He couldn’t believe it was Emma he was touching. Emma.
Anthony would kill him.
What scared him the most was that he might give into temptation. And he damn well knew if he made love with Emma there would be no turning back. He would not let her go and would use his considerable influence to ensure she married him, and perhaps he would destroy all that was good and pure in the process. His body throbbed with a relentless ache. She needed to leave, but he couldn’t shatter the soft hunger and confidence practically illuminating her with a harsh rejection. The trust she most likely did not realize she stared at him with. If he rejected Emma, she would be devastated, and this confidence, this beautiful daring she radiated would be crushed. That was the last thing he wanted. But if he would send her running, then they would both be safe. It had to be her decision to leave, and the best way to deter Emma, and make her do the rejecting was to allow a piece of his desires to peek out.
He jerked from her and spun her around to face the wall. Even though the alcove was darkened, he did not want to risk her seeing the naked need in his eyes. He gripped her hips and dragged her roughly against him. Elliot wanted her to feel the hard length of his erection pressed tightly against her bottom. He pushed his thigh between hers, lifting Emma to her tiptoes, grinding against the soft, heated pad of her sex.
A tortured groan slipped from hi
m. She was everything he wanted, everything he had dreamed of for ten years. He’d ignored his rising lust every time she flirted with him, ignored the weakness in his gut every time she smiled at him, touched him, and invited him to kiss with her eyes. His fingers itched to stroke over her soft folds and into her silken wetness, and he was starving for the taste of her. He’d kissed her once, and it hadn’t been enough. He could kiss her every day, and it would still not be enough. With Emma, he wanted forever.
Concentrate, you moron. This was a lesson meant to send her calling for her carriage and rushing home. He gripped her left hand and wrapped her fingers around the girth of his cock through his trousers. Her delicate fingers had no hope of circling his length fully, and a breath shuddered from her. He hoped her gasp was of trepidation, but a niggling part of him thought it might be arousal. He removed his leg from between hers and stroked his fingers up past her garters and up to her beckoning heat.
She shivered.
He slipped a finger deep inside of her wetness. She was impossibly tight.
“Elliot!”
Her face was a study in pleasure, and he couldn’t look away. He had dreamed of this so much, wanting to hear her cries echoing around him as he pleasured her. She arched her back and rested her head on his shoulders, biting her bottom lip as her core contracted around his finger. Blood thundered through his veins, and he closed his eyes, imagining how she would grip his cock.
“I won’t lie to you. I hunger to take what you are recklessly offering.” And It made him feel like a despoiler of innocents. He groaned at her neck, fighting the need to bend her over and bury his cock deep. “If I cave to my desire, I will take you in ways that will have you running. I will torment you with my tongue and fingers until you are begging for my possession. I wasn’t raised as a nobleman, and I do not make love as one.”
She gasped, purred and shuddered as he withdrew his finger and pushed back in even deeper. A dull roaring began in his head as wetness bathed his fingers. He struggled to resist. She should be repulsed not excited. He swallowed and prayed that he was successful because his will was fast slipping away. If she did not run, he would take her, and the storm of pain that would unload would be huge. Because once he took Emma, there would be no letting her go.
Run Emma…please sweetheart, run.
