He shrugged. “Perhaps, later.” Nick stood, peering down at her from his great height. His glance lingered on the line of her bodice.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she snapped though she felt the familiar tingle of her skin at his nearness.
“Like what?” He lifted a brow. “As if you were a chocolate tart?”
The words brought back a wealth of memories of the first time he touched her, so long ago on Governor Lord Corbett's terrace. A shudder of longing ran through her. “Stop staring down my bodice. It's unseemly.”
“I don’t think so. I've missed those delicious little goodies. Your nipples are the most delightful shade of pink.” The whiskey of his voice seemed to seep into her skin, curling her toes inside her slippers.
The nipples in question stood up immediately at being recognized.
“I see they've missed me as well.” He gave her a sensual, smug look. A wave of hair fell down over his cheek and he shook it back.
A languid feeling came over Jemma, though she tried mightily to maintain her outrage. Her nipples were hard and tight, aching where they stretched under the cotton of her chemise. A honeyed heaviness slid down her stomach to pool between her thighs. “My uncle tells me you offered for me. I have refused.”
“Have you? Another man has a hold on your affections? I find that unlikely.” He placed his palm against her stomach.
“Yes,” Jemma retorted, moving away. Her skin felt as if it were on fire beneath her gown. “I find your surprise odd, given that you have warned every man in London away from me.”
A dark brow rose in question. “I have?”
“My dinner companions won't converse with me. I stand alone during every dance. Please do not pretend you are not the cause. Perhaps I will go abroad.”
Nick moved forward swiftly to grip her upper arms. Pushing her roughly against the wall, he pressed her against him. “No. You won’t.”
Even through the layers of her gown, Jemma could feel Nick’s arousal, hard and thick against her. She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent that was all Nick, citrus and cheroot mixed with a purely primal smell that was him. She wished to rub herself against him like a cat, put her skin next to his. Touch the planes of his stomach. “I will.”
“Clearly,” Nick bent and nipped at her bottom lip, “you are not convinced of the desirability of our match.” A hand fumbled under her skirt, to run leisurely up her leg and pause briefly at her garter before reaching further.
Her body relaxed into his, what little fight she had left in her fading away in the face of Nick’s onslaught. She grabbed at his hair.
“Yes.” The husky whisper urged her as a ripping sound reached her ears.
“Useless.” He impatiently tore through the layers of petticoats.
Jemma moaned softly, giving no resistance. What would be the point? She wanted this. She wanted him. “Oh God Nick,” she panted as his fingers pushed inside her.
“So wet, for me.” He rubbed his thumb against the most sensitive part of her, eliciting a cry of want from her lips. “Only me,” Nick said roughly into the nape of her neck. “No one else.” He toyed with her, his fingers gliding against her, the ring he wore on his thumb, cool against her flesh.
Jemma clutched at his shoulders, pushing against the pressure of his moving fingers. “No,” she gasped, knowing it was a question, finding that when the moment came, she could not lie to him about that. “No one else. There is no one else.”
A feral sound came from Nick. His fingers moved against her tender flesh as she pushed herself against his hand. Just as her body tightened, he stopped and pulled away, leaving her shaken and unsatisfied.
“Damn you.” She slapped at him, and then gasped as he entered her in one hard thrust, rocking her body back against the wall. “Oh.” Jemma's body slid deliciously down the length of him. “Nick.”
He kissed her fiercely, his mouth capturing hers even as one arm reached underneath her bottom. A low growl escaped his lips. “Wrap your legs around me.”
She did as he bade her, sliding her legs up against his hips, pulling him into her with each thrust.
His mouth trailed up her neck. “Yes, Jem.” He groaned. “Like that.” He thrust deeper inside her, the force knocking a picture from its peg to shatter on the floor.
Jemma clung to him, a wild thing with no thought other than the pleasure of their joining. How she missed him, longed for him, how lonely she had been without Nick.
“As you can see,” his breath came in a gasp, “you are wrong. We are completely suited to each other.” He put one palm against the wall to steady his body as he ravaged her.
Her fingers grabbed at his shoulder, urging him on. “Harder.” She moaned, feeling half crazed at being with Nick, and her impending release. How many nights had she lain in bed, wanting him? Hating him?
“Yes.” He pulled back and forced himself further inside, swiveling his hips in the most delicious manner.
