Chills Page 20

  Constance blushed, unsure of how to react to his words. She tracked his hand as it slid along her gown and settled at her waist again. When they moved higher and settled under her breasts, her breath seized.

  “Is something wrong?” The deep gravel of his voice sent chills racing along her limbs.

  Constance squirmed on his lap as confusion and desire warred within her. She shouldn’t allow him liberties like this but she wanted so much more yet.

  She licked her lips. “Will you kiss me again?”

  “Anything you wish,” he whispered.

  Jack cradled her face and aligned her lips to his. Like the first time, his kiss began gently, but Constance still gasped at the sensations. He returned his lips more firmly, twisting his head to deepen the kiss. The masks touched and she pulled back to remove hers. Jack tugged his off as well and threw it away.

  Without the masks to hide behind, Constance lost a little of her courage. She shouldn’t be doing this. Jack shouldn’t be letting her experiment on him. But Constance was powerless to say the words to bring them back to proper decorum.

  He slid his fingers into her hair, brushing his fingertips across her ear and sending fire down her legs. His hand firmed around her head and then he began to kiss her again.

  If she thought she knew anything at all about kissing, Jack disproved her assumption in the next moment. His tongue tickled her lips and she gasped, opening her mouth at the unexpected sensation. He took advantage of her response to sweep his tongue into her mouth and the flavor of him exploded her senses.

  Jack tasted of cinnamon too.

  He claimed her mouth, exploring, controlling. She couldn’t get away and she couldn’t get enough. He ate at her mouth, sending her pulse racing. Constance’s world shrank to where she touched Jack. He was her favorite smell, taste, and touch.

  On instinct, she darted out her tongue to touch his. Jack groaned and withdrew, opening wide to let her explore. Constance tasted him, flicked her tongue across his, and reveled in the sweetness of his kisses.

  Kissing Jack was beyond anything she had ever expected. His hands were moving on her body, fingers flexing and kneading as they kissed, melting her into puddles of longing. She explored his face with her fingertips, feeling the unique contours of a man she had thought she knew all about, but clearly had a lot to learn.

  ~ * ~

  Jack almost disgraced himself when her hands cradled his head. She wanted him, wanted his kisses, and he set about teaching her how to kiss thoroughly. He groaned as she became more aggressive, actively plundering his mouth with her tongue, sucking on his lips, and using her teeth to bite down.

  His wicked Pixie was voracious in passion.

  Jack got a firm grip on her hair and sought control, but she was enjoying her first taste of desire so much that he only succeeded in arousing himself to greater heights. Her dark hair was gloriously soft. He wanted to feel the whole of it sweep his skin.

  Pixie resettled herself so she straddled him. Jack grasped her hips, stunned by her desire and how far he had led her toward sin. He wanted her desperately, but not here, not at a masquerade where any indiscretion might be uncovered. He had to stay in control. She had only asked for kisses.

  Not that she needed the guidance.

  Fighting desire, he lifted his head. “Don’t wriggle so much when we kiss, love. I need to get you back out of the room without ruining that gown in my haste, remember.”

  Jack’s voice came out as a lusty growl, and he hoped he didn’t frighten her with his desire.

  He tried to pull back, to regain control of their passion. But instead of complying, Pixie kissed him again, pressing against him as her passionate nature took over. Her fingers raked through his hair, massaging his scalp, holding his lips tight against hers. She clutched his shoulders and breathed the same air. If she kept this up, he would take her here upon the chair.

  Without thinking, Jack cupped her breasts. The firm flesh was the perfect size and settled within his palms as if they belonged to him. Desperate for more, he brushed his thumb over her pebbled nibbles, and then pressed his thumb in.

  Pixie stilled, finally aware of where his hand had wandered.

  He kissed her again, but let his thumb drag off the hard point.

  Constance whimpered when their lips parted. “Jack?”

  He pulled her head to his shoulder and held her tight. “It’s called passion, my love, but we had best stop now. I do not want to leave this house last tonight.”

  Constance ground her head into his shoulder and struggled to breathe. He could fully understand her difficulty—he hadn’t been prepared for the depths of their passion either.

  When he thought she was calmer, he stood and took her with him, letting her slide down his body, a sweet torture that built his desire all over again. As her feet touched the floor, Pixie’s knees buckled. He caught her fast against him, pleased by Pixie’s dazed reaction.

  When she was steady, he reluctantly slid his hands from her crumpled gown to straighten his clothes. In her excitement, Pixie had undone the buttons on his waistcoat, pushed his coat back, and made a mess of his cravat. He looked down at himself ruefully. Well, he had wanted her to undo some of his buttons, but it appeared that she went a bit further than he had initially anticipated.

  When he was as neat as he could hope, he pulled Pixie into his arms again, and swayed with her in the moonlight. Her hands fluttered over his chest, but soon settled. They couldn’t stay this way much longer so he kissed her one last time, secured their masks in place, and led her back out to enjoy the rest of the night’s entertainments.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  VIRGINIA PLACED HER hand in the stranger’s, caught by the dark fire in his eyes— determined to keep those eyes gazing on her tonight.

  Virginia forgot her responsibilities to Pixie. Forgot she stood in a ballroom of societies finest in favor of her masked suitor’s attention. The warmth of his gaze obliterated all her doubts. He tugged her toward the crowded dance floor, his gaze never leaving hers, a devious smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

  When he dragged her into his arms, she tensed at the power of his hands. He could use them to hurt her if he wanted to. She could be afraid, or at least cautious, but those eyes, those hands, that scent, calmed her as nothing else could.

  Bernard Hallam held her. He was her safe haven, her harbor. The dance floor was a crush of bodies that jostled them ever closer together making it impossible to dance. Virginia let herself fall toward him, certain that he was the safer choice in this mass of throbbing humanity.

  The hard arm around her back held her tucked in to his body, twisting her away from dangers. She took a deep breath of his scent, and then closed the remaining space between them, touching her body to his, reveling as his warmed her through.

  Virginia’s mouth grew dry. The champagne had made her thirsty.

  When she licked her lips, her partner stopped so still, appearing mesmerized by her mouth. Amazed by the reaction, Virginia did it again, then exalted as the full weight of Bernard’s attention focused on her lips. The hand at her back dragged her the remaining distance. She had not thought they could be any closer. How wrong had she been?

  Bernard branded her from breast to thigh. His warm breath caressed her cheek. Virginia flushed and lifted her arms to encircle his broad shoulders. He was all solid muscle beneath her fingers and her nipples ached under the thin gown at the thought.

  Her body had never behaved this way before. It behaved with a will of its own—one she could not reason with. Only her mind was amazed, and thanks to her consumption of champagne, its voice was muted and dim.

  The overwhelming heat of him, the scent of cigar and sandalwood, the possessive way his hand traveled her back, should have shocked her. But Virginia did not care. All her attention was poised, focused, as it had never been before. Bernard gave up his hold on her back and slid one hand directly down to her derrière while the other cupped her face. There was no room to mo
ve, nowhere to go, no reason not to stay.

  They swayed to the music, mesmerized by each other.

  Bernard slid his fingertips over her jaw almost reverently. “Do you know that you become more beautiful to me every day that I have known you?”

  She pressed her fingers into his hard shoulder muscles. “And you have changed, Bern. What has happened to you these last years? I thought you led a quiet, indolent life at Oxford. Have you taken up boxing?”

  “Not boxing. Rowing. I row twice a week,” he informed her, his tone conveying his pleasure at her curiosity.

  “Why are you here? You do not like London. You do not like dancing, either. Yet you have been in London for weeks now. I could never imagine you in such a venue before. You always said that masquerades were pointless,” she accused, struggling to find a point to her argument.

  “They are pointless—if you don’t know who you are with. I am here to dance with you. I only dance with you.”

  “Bernard, we have not danced together in years.”

  “Far too long, indeed.”

  While they spoke, he kneaded her derrière, his fingers sending waves of pleasure to her core. Virginia allowed it, but breathing normally grew difficult. She focused on his lips where another smile played—a smile she was not familiar with.

  When he came no closer, disappointment thundered through her. Yet if she wanted things to change, to go forward, then it would be by her choice alone. Bernard would never push her. He would only take what she freely gave.

  The fingertips on her face stilled. “I would never hurt you, Virginia. I could not do to you what he did. If the bastard wasn’t knifed by that thief, I would have done the deed myself.”

  Virginia drew back, searching his eyes. “A part of me was afraid you had.”

  He shook his head. “I never left your side until you were strong enough. But he was dead by then, and I lost my chance to avenge you.”

  Virginia’s eyes misted with tears. She shook them away and tightened her arms about his shoulders. He had cared for her and kept her secrets. Virginia’s heart beat a proper beat this time. He was the truest friend she’d ever had. She raised one hand to his face and scratched against the light stubble on his jaw.

  Bernard kissed her gently, but they bumped together awkwardly before settling firmly together. The last hint of her hesitation broke away. She leaned in to him and let him take over.

  They had never kissed before—not once in the fifteen years of their acquaintance. As their lips brushed, a jolt of pure lust flowed through her, knocking her world into shambles. Bernard’s trembling fingers released her face, slid to her neck, brushing upward to stroke her ears, and then settled at the base of her skull. His lips firmed and applied more pressure, but he drew back as cheering swelled around them.

  He rested his head against hers. “Come away with me.”

  Virginia chuckled. “I thought I already agreed to that?”

  She did not expect to be able to tease a lover, but she could behave no other way with him. They had always tormented each other, but his lust-filled glance made her heart race.

  “I want to make love to you. To show you how good it can be,” he begged.

  As much as she wanted to agree, she feared there would be more pain like last time. “What if I can’t accept . . .” She couldn’t finish her explanation, too embarrassed to admit to the complaints her husband had hurled at her head.

  However, he nodded as if he understood. “Pleasure only. I promise to make it good for you. Trust me?”

  Hope flared in his eyes and she dipped her head in agreement.

  Bernard moved them through the crowd quickly, keeping Virginia close by him, protecting her with his size and aggression.

  Virginia was used to Bernard’s arrogance, and she relaxed about what was to come. She knew him, even if there was an unfamiliar mood radiating from him. It might have been within him all along, but she had not witnessed it before. He excited her. It was as if she was seeing into his soul at last.

  At the edge of the ballroom, he turned them down a long corridor and opened a door halfway down. He drew her in with him, locked the door, and pocketed the key. A fireplace glowed brightly, but she had no time to think before he pulled her into his arms again. His breathing beat rough against her face. She should be afraid. Her mind screamed in fear, but thanks to her consumption of spirits, her body refused to listen.

  A slight tremble flowed into her from Bernard. Was he nervous too? She shifted her long hair back behind her shoulders and Bernard’s strangled gasp betrayed just how much he liked what he saw. His breath caressed her chest. Her nipples hardened to painful points as he gazed down at the flesh she had exposed to the firelight.

  He kissed her lips again, and then drew back. His hands lifted to her face, caressing and seeking, slipping her mask past her eyes then letting it fall carelessly to the floor. His fingers ghosted over her hair, careful not to disturb it from sleekness, but his lips pressed to her temple then moved to the corner of her eye.

  In the dim glow from the fireplace, she could not see clearly, but his black, masked face intimidated her. She slid her hands up to remove it then she traced over his lips, across his cheeks, over his nose, and up to his thick, dark eyebrows that had always fascinated her. She brushed her fingers over each one, glossing each with her fingertip, smoothing out the short hairs. Virginia ran her fingers into the sides of his hair where the first touches of grey had appeared in the wavy locks. Her nails rasped over his skull, and he groaned heavily.

  He would not hurt her. He was a teacher, her friend. He could teach her not to fear a natural thing. His thumb rubbed against her lips, and she kissed it as it passed. He stilled, then pressed his thumb against her mouth again. Virginia parted her lips, sucking on him instinctively. Lips touched again and his tongue tickled hers, then his mouth sealed to hers as he kissed her open-mouthed. His tongue invaded her in a possessive surge, shocking her to her very core. She struggled with the idea, the sensation of Bernard in her mouth, and tasted the exhilaration of him.

  He taught her to accept his tongue, to kiss him back, to use her tongue to excite them both. She pressed her body to his as a torrent of sensation and mutual pleasure surrounded her.

  Virginia did not feel them moving until her back hit the wall.

  With the wall to support her, Bernard used both his hands. They devastated her. His hands swept her front to grasp her breasts through the gown. Bernard squeezed, grasped, and stroked until her nipples peaked painfully. He rubbed his thumb across one nipple, and she moaned.

  Bernard’s primitive response thrilled her. He squeezed and rubbed her breast with one hand while the other cupped her bottom. He lifted her feet from the floor, pressing his erection against her core urgently.

  The sheer strength of him stunned her. Virginia had never once considered that a lover could pick her up so effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing at all. He was totally in control. Bernard could do anything to her, just as Orkney had. She swallowed down the panic that threatened to overwhelm her, but Bernard must have sensed the change.

  He lowered her feet back to the floor and gave her space, but he never allowed his lips to leave.

  Virginia was grateful for the slight reprieve. Kissing Bernard was intense. She had no idea how to cope with her responses to him, let alone deal with the reminders of her husband’s cruel treatment.

  Cool air caressed her legs as Bernard raised her skirts. The brush of his trousers against her bare skin set her heart to pounding, but in a way that she sensed would only get better. With the panic gone, she pulled Bernard’s body against her, flushing as the rough wool caressed into her bare legs.

  He rubbed her thigh and she curled a leg around him blindly.

  This is what she should have felt with her husband. Not pain or humiliation. Passion.

  Virginia looked up into Bernard’s dark face and rejoiced.

  He smiled, teeth flashing white in the firelight. “You are not afraid
any longer?”

  “No. I understand better now,” she admitted, pulse thundering in her ears. The mix of cool air and his warm hand about her legs increased and added to her excitement.

  “Good,” he grunted, and adjusted his grip. “This is what lovers do… to ease the ache here.” He slid his hand over her curls and gently squeezed.

  Virginia gasped as he rubbed with firm pressure.

  When she flexed her hips into his hand, Bernard was the one to moan. “Ah, my girl, I’m going to make you burn.”

  He moved his hand and she felt the tickle as his fingertips parted her folds. He gently explored and, to her embarrassment, a tremor shook her body. She gasped for air as he lingered between her legs, spreading her desire over her aching cleft.

  A long moan escaped her lips, catching on a sob as he probed her flesh harder, sliding up to find and caress a point that made her shudder.

  He swirled his fingertip around the sensitive nub and she pressed her head back to the wall, fighting for something, panting in short gasps in a counterpoint to his motions. His finger dropped lower and pressed inside. She’d expected pain and found nothing but pleasure. Her hips flexed and he grunted aloud before moving his finger in and out with firm strokes. Bernard’s lips branded her neck, sucking hard on her skin, matching the noises he made with her wet lower lips.

  His hand left her and Bernard fumbled with his breeches. Soft, burning skin touched her inner thigh. She had only a moment to prepare before he wrapped his hands around each of her thighs and lifted her high against the wall, legs spread wide.

  Virginia squirmed at the loss of close contact, but he settled against her skin as his length nudged her entrance

  She met his gaze as he slowly lowered her onto him.

  He let her body weight slide her down, pressing into her possessively, inch by hot inch. Virginia expected to feel pain, but there was none—just pressure and deep throbbing pleasure as he joined with her.