All he knew was that he wanted this woman, desperately, and it had nothing to do with his cousins and their horrible demands.
She got up from the settee and backed away, blinking rapidly, like she was trying to quell tears. “I-I understand.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” he murmured.
She shook her head and her words fell from her mouth in a rush. “Of course I do. After all, I have little experience—I’m certain I couldn’t please a man like you. I don’t know what I’m doing. How in the world could I expect to seduce you?”
His eyebrows lifted. “You…you want to seduce me?” he repeated, hating that this was the same verbiage his cousins had used when they made their demands of him. Hearing it from her was a very different experience.
She flushed almost purple and lifted her hands to her cheeks like she was trying to cool them. “Oh Lord, I sound like a fool. I just…it’s fine. It’s fine that you don’t want me. I should just go. Or…it’s my house, so I should let you go and…”
He couldn’t let her go on like that, thinking that he’d pulled away because he didn’t want her. That was the most foolish thing he’d ever heard in his life.
He moved forward and caught her elbow, pulling her closer so he could kiss her again. She made a little murmur of pleasure and tilted her head, deepening the kiss, her tongue exploring him gently, then with more drive and desire.
And he was drowning in her. Drowning in the lightness that filled his chest as she touched him. It was like his problems bled away and there was only her. How long had it been since he felt that way?
It was remarkable.
He drew back and rested his forehead against hers, their panting breaths matching after a few seconds. “It’s not about not wanting you,” he insisted.
He struggled, trying to find the words to say now. She would certainly hate him even more when he told her he’d kissed her, manhandled her and, oh, by the way, he was doing so partially at the behest of her stepchildren who despised and wanted to harm her. That would destroy any positive feelings she might have about this encounter.
“You want me?” she asked, and the tiny plaintive quality of her voice stopped him short.
She didn’t believe she could be wanted. He realized it in a flash of a moment. This woman, this glorious, amazing, fascinating, sweet woman didn’t see herself as an object of desire. She didn’t understand that he had thought of nothing but her since the moment they’d met. That his erotic dreams had starred her and only her for over a week.
How he hated that she didn’t understand that. He nodded. “God help me, Flora, I want you. And if I could—”
She grabbed his hand with both of hers. “You can,” she interrupted. She stared up at him, blue eyes shining with anticipation and need and a thousand nuances of pleasure and pain.
And he wanted her. Just for a moment he wanted to fill himself with her scent and her taste and her light and take the tiny glimpse of peace that he saw shining on her face.
Could he do that? Could he separate what he’d been told to do here with her and what he wanted to do? His cousins wanted ruination, he just wanted pleasure.
Could he have one without the other? Give her one without the other?
Yes. There were ways. Technicalities, perhaps, but ones he would cling to if it meant he could have this stolen moment that he suddenly needed as much as his next breath.
“Just a little, Flora,” he whispered as he dragged his thumb across her lower lip, felt her surge toward him. “Just for a moment.”
Flora didn’t know what Roarke meant, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he brought his mouth back to hers, dragging her flush against him so she could feel the full weight of his desire.
She moved then, guiding them back to the settee. She wanted to feel him without having to focus on remaining upright. They returned to their original positions there, and it was like they’d never stopped.
He glided his lips away from hers, feathering her jawline with kisses and then the column of her throat. She hissed out a breath as sensation increased. God, that felt good. She dropped her head back against the cushions, dragging her fingers into his hair as he sucked gently.
Between her legs she began to throb and she groaned again. She shamelessly and wantonly wanted him there. She wanted to feel his body press against hers, but with no clothing to separate them. She wanted to feel him take a place between her thighs and claim what felt so empty and needy.
She wanted him to become her lover and make her feel this way over and over again. She wanted him to unleash everything he knew on her and then feel him lose control because he was as overwhelmed as she was by the power of their connection.
“Please,” she whispered as his mouth moved along the neckline of her silk gown.
He hesitated, lifting his eyes to her. She saw his uncertainty, return some kind of gentlemanly demand that said he couldn’t do this. Shouldn’t. That it was wrong.
“Please,” she repeated, a bit more strenuously. “I want you to.”
He shut his eyes and drew a shaky breath. He didn’t ask for clarification of what she meant. She supposed it was clear enough with her lifting her hips against him and mewling her pleasure like a cat in heat.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured.
She shook her head. “But you wouldn’t be. I have nothing to lose, Roarke. I’ve never wanted something…someone so much as I do right now. So if you want me, even just a little, I’m giving you my permission, my consent, to take what you want.”
She thought she heard him mutter a curse beneath his breath and he stared down at her body as he let his hands slide down her sides. He gripped her hips, sliding his thumbs along the curves, and she caught her breath. God, whenever, wherever he touched her, it was like he left a mark. She felt the imprint of him across her skin and in her blood.
“When was the last time you…you came?” he asked, glancing back up.
She blinked. She knew what he meant by the question. Orgasm, release. She’d experienced it before, a few times with Stuart, a few more at her own hand. Heat filled her cheeks. “Er, a while. Months?”
He stared. “Months?”
She nodded. “Yes.” She barely managed to get the word out.
“Do you want to come?” he pressed, the pressure of his fingers becoming more insistent against her hips, then down across to her thighs. She shivered.
“Y-Yes,” she gasped.
His expression softened, but there was still hesitation in his eyes. Like he knew he was doing the wrong thing, no matter what she told him to the contrary.
“I don’t have to take,” he murmured, she felt like more to himself. “I don’t have to steal.”
She wanted to say something, to tell him that he wasn’t stealing what she freely offered. But he didn’t allow her to speak. He pushed forward, kissing her again, cutting off her words and her breath and any cogent thoughts she could have formed.
The kiss felt different now. Like he had a purpose. A drive. His hands moved over her as he sucked her tongue lightly, as he swirled and nipped and tasted her into a pleasure fog. His hands moved as he did so, cupping her thigh, squeezing it as her eyes rolled back in her head and her hands started to shake.