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Shaming relief flooded his veins. Usually he was too sure of himself to require reassurance. Nothing with Antonia Smith was usual.
She paused and her voice frayed with bitterness. “What happened at least had the virtue of honesty. Tenderness would be a falsehood.”
He bit back the lunatic urge to disagree. Beneath tumultuous desire lurked respect and liking and, yes, tenderness. Those moments afterward when she’d touched his hair with a softness that scored his obsidian heart? Those moments were tender. When he’d taken her, passion was paramount. It didn’t mean passion was all they had.
“Don’t rush away. It’s still early.” He reached across the distance between them and cupped her jaw in his hand.
She trembled, not nearly so controlled as she wanted to appear. He continued in that coaxing tone. “Let me show you I’m more than a rapacious beast.”
“I rather like the rapacious beast,” she admitted on a sigh that almost, but not quite, sounded like capitulation. “You’re usually so controlled.”
He smiled, partly because she made no move to escape. Under his hand, her cheek was smooth and soft, like warm satin. Almost unconsciously, he stroked it. “Not when you’re around.”
“That’s what I like,” she whispered.
“Good.” He leaned toward her. “Because you’re going to see a lot more of it.”
“Nicholas . . .”
“Hush, Antonia.”
He knew she intended to say something sensible, something about retreating to the house and her duties. Perhaps, heaven forbid, something about never seeing him again.
He didn’t want to argue. He wanted to kiss her. Then he wanted to see her naked. Then he wanted to revisit the hot depths of her glorious body.
He was a man who invariably got what he wanted.
He’d start with the kiss.
The problem was kissing her drove him out of his mind. So hard to calculate seduction when he was afire for her. Did she know what she did to him, the unprecedented effect she created with her mere existence?
So far she hadn’t set out to seduce him. God help him if she did. The greatest rake in the kingdom would be helpless against her.
He pressed his lips to hers in a sweet kiss reminiscent of the kiss that had so overset him by the stream. Unfamiliar emotion shivered its way into his heart. He fought the urge to be rough, commanding. Vulnerability never ambushed him when he overwhelmed her with passion.
He’d used her so carelessly tonight. He’d loved it. She claimed it was what she’d wanted. But something in him ached to cherish her. Last time was like diving headfirst into a blazing building. Now he wanted to take his time.
Her lips trembled, then opened like a flower blooming to the sun. He swept his tongue along her lower lip, then dipped inside to taste the interior. She sighed so softly, he wouldn’t have heard if he hadn’t been this close.
Her mouth opened wider and her tongue brushed his with shy invitation. How incongruous her hesitancy when she’d just flung him up to heaven.
Ardor rose with adamant insistence. He struggled against the need to ravish her, push her against the wall, shove her legs apart.
Reluctantly he retreated. He panted with arousal. So did she. Her hand rested upon his shoulder.
“I’m trying to be gentle,” he said gruffly.
He caught the glimmer of her smile. This night seduction was beguiling, but next time, he wanted to see her. “I know.”
Then astonishingly she kissed him. The chaste, undemanding kiss blasted him with shock. She rarely touched him without his incitement.
“I have to go, Nicholas.”
He was so astounded by her kiss that it took a moment to understand. He snatched after her hand but she’d risen and moved to the center of the room.
“Antonia . . .”
“Please don’t make it more difficult.”
