She shifted fractionally on him. He caught his breath, broke from the kiss. Screened by their lashes, their eyes met.
He whispered against her lips, his breath a hot flame. “Take me. Give yourself to me.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “Be mine.”
Gravelly, rough, another seduction, a dark temptation to a deeper level of giving.
She didn’t hesitate. Drawing in a breath, tightening her hands about his face to anchor her, she angled her head, set her lips to his, and slowly eased down.
Inch by slow inch, she took him inside her, gloried in the feel of him filling her, stretching her. She’d never before been so aware of how her body closed about him, enclasped him. Took him in.
His hands were hard as iron about her hips as he ruthlessly guided her down; he let her set the pace only until he was fully seated within her, then he took the reins, took control, and the giving began.
Hard, hot, and complete.
Without restrictions, limits, or reservations.
Their bodies merged deeply, compulsively riding a wave of sensual desire higher than any before, a tide of need more desperately urgent, more powerful. More addictive.
Their tongues tangled, their mouths feeding in frenzy. He took her as he would, seizing and claiming every sense she possessed, demanding more even as she gave him all.
In the end, on a gasp, she surrendered completely, opened her body, her soul, her heart, and let him plunder.
Let him capture, take, and make her his.
Beyond all thought. Beyond all denial.
Beyond this world.
She was his. Forever. He would never allow anyone to take her from him.
When he slumped back on the bed, drained, replete, to the very depths of his soul sated, the darker side of his nature for the moment wholly satisfied, as he tumbled her down with him, then kicked off his trousers and wrapped them in the covers, those were the only thoughts to cross Tony’s mind.
The
y were the only thoughts that mattered.
SIXTEEN
IN THE DARKNESS BEFORE DAWN, ALICIA STIRRED.
Awareness slunk into her brain. Her body still thrummed; her hair was a wild tangle, a fine net ensaring them, wrapped about the muscled arm lying protectively about her. Eyes closed, she lay still, safe, secure, warm. Freed by the night, by the silence, her thoughts crept from the corners of her mind, dwelling on the strange twist her life had taken—the deception she’d never intended to practice, not on so many, not to this degree.
The role of her own making now haunted her.
Not in her wildest dreams had she expected to rise to such social prominence, never imagined calling so many of the powerful friend. Yet in her and her family’s time of need, they’d come to her aid—how could she now draw back from them, from the protection they’d so generously offered?
Thanks to A. C. and his latest attempt to cast all suspicion on her, she couldn’t even slip away, fade from the scene. She had to remain, head high, and face down his rumors, at least for the next weeks.
Had to continue to pretend she was the widow she was not, while parading through the haut ton, the subject of the latest on-dit, the central character in the most amazing, attention-getting story.
The idea that someone from her little part of the country might, like Ruskin, pop up and recognize her had assumed the status of a nightmare. No amount of reasoning, of reiterating that there truly were few families of standing near Little Compton, and none who had known her, did anything to lessen its effect; like a dark, louring cloud it hovered, threatening, not breaking but always there, swelling in the back of her mind.
What if the cloud burst and the truth came raining down?
Her heart contracted; she dragged in a breath, conscious of the vise closing about her chest.
Tony had so publicly nailed his flag to her mast, had so openly committed himself to her cause, and brought with him so many of his aristocratic connections…if the ton ever learned the truth of her widowhood, how would that reflect on him?
Badly. Very badly. She’d now gone about in society enough to know. Such a revelation would make her an outcast, but it would make him a laughingstock. Or worse, it would cast him as one who had knowingly deceived the entire ton.