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James didn’t paint or draw, but he committed to memory this living image of Clara. He’d take her upstairs and enjoy divesting her of every bit of clothing she wore, but first, whatever intimacies ensued, whatever firsts he’d always be for her, this moment was special to him.
When he couldn’t wait any longer, his arms slipped around her, and he lowered his mouth to hers. By the time he rubbed his mouth over her satin lips, she held fistfuls of his shirt. He groaned when she kissed him back in full measure.
Like a growing fire, they consumed each other, and each new taste of the other was fuel. Though he tried to slow it, tried to contain it, it grew. Soon they were both fairly panting, breathing in each other’s moist breath as if it was enough to live on. Each time one of them deepened the kiss, the other responded in kind.
He changed the angle, this time biting gently against her lips. She surprised him, clasping his hips and pulling him intimately against her. His sensitive cock, jutting to one side, rubbed against her skirts and inner thigh.
The weeks of wanting Clara and believing her unattainable had done nothing to quell his body’s wishes. His hips had a mind of their own, and they wanted to align with hers.
His brain managed to control his hips, barely, as he paid heed to her reaction. For all her valiant representations of readiness, she could balk if he was too brutish. Indeed, she froze when his bulge pressed against her thigh; her mouth stopped moving against his.
Before he could pull back, air rushed from Clara’s lips, and her fingers grasped his legs, pulling him closer.
Shetook control, just as James felt himself paralyzed by his own relief and desire.Her tongue licked at the soft pad at the center of his upper lip, laving it rhythmically, then nipped it.
He pressed his chest against hers to push her back against the wall. No longer holding back, he tasted her deeply, and she received and gave back.
He broke their kiss to watch as he guided his hips more fully into the cradle of her pelvis. Her warmth traveled through the layers of her skirts and his trousers, and still he wanted more. He reached for her skirts, prepared to lift them and—
Suddenly, he backed away from her. He couldn’t continue this on the blasted table in his drawing room, his servants God-knew-where!
James strode to the door, angling only his upper body out into the hallway. After issuing quiet directions to Pulley, he returned to Clara, who clutched the table behind her, breathing hard.
“The servants have two minutes to clear out. Then I’m taking you up to my bed.”
Clara blinked, and though she didn’t so much as move a muscle, he sensed her departure.
“Don’t leave, Clara.” He took her hand, stroking it.
“I’m most decidedlynotleaving.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“You looked sad, and wherever you went for a moment, it wasn’t with me.” He thought of what this night meant to him. “`Tis a very happy thing we are about to do.”
Clara stared with fascination. “You’re smiling. It’s the first time I’ve seen you so…carefree.” She reached up and brushed a tentative fingertip over the corner of his mouth.“After tonight, your servants will know. And mine, too, when I don’t return home. That’s what I was thinking about just now.”
“That bothers you?”
She nodded.
“My servants are discreet. They won’t be treating you differently after tonight.”
“I suppose they’re accustomed to…such things.”
“What they’re accustomed to is completing their work,” he countered gruffly. “I won’t pretend to understand what it is to be a woman, or someone of your station. What we’re about to do is wrong, and I know it.” If his smile was carefree earlier, he knew it was jaded now. “Look around.”
He himself glanced about the luxurious room. “I wasn’t born in a mansion, and I didn’t acquire it by doing the expected. What you and I are about to do is wrong in the eyes of everyone. But if I’d played the role doled out to me by birth, I’d be dead. Certainly not here, and most certainly not with you.”
James leaned down and pressed the tip of his nose to hers, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I don’t care what others think. Not your family. Not the servants. Not the neighbors. Not your society. The only opinion that matters isyours. It’s not too late to return to safety, to go home. But don’t leave—please, don’t—because you care what the servants think.”
He stood tall again and stared into her eyes. “Stay becauseyouwant to. Because you know I’ll take care of you this night—like no one else can.”
Even as her body was drawn to his like a magnet, her lips pursed at his self-assurance. “The only opinion that matters is mine? Yet you seek to sway me by sharing your esteemed opinion of your own abilities?”
“Nay, Lady Clara.” He tsked. “Cast me not as the villain, lass. I speak not of my abilities; I wouldn’t presume. You sacrificed your maidenhead to lie with me for pleasure. You and I have different vulnerabilities.Ifear not being able to match your expectations. When I told you that I can take care of you, it’s not because I have a high opinion of my skills as a lover.”
James watched as he ran his palms over each swell of her hips. His hands moved to her derrière, cupping her.
“Let me explain,” he said, sounding pained as he again looked into her eyes. “Never have I craved anyone this way. Never have I pursued anyone as I have you. You think I want to be with the sister of the man I confronted that day we met? To be with a woman who thinks me a hair’s breadth away from being a barbarian? It’s a complication I didn’t ask for. But my body’s not asking, lass, it’s demanding.”
