His lips pursed, as if he didn’t completely approve of that method of dealing with her past. But he didn’t argue. He didn’t fight her. He just took her hand and led her from the room.
Derrick drew Selina into her chamber and released her hand. She crossed to her bed and stood there as he closed and locked the chamber door. He gave her a half-smile before he moved to the dressing room door and locked it, too.
“No interruptions,” he murmured, then looked around. “It’s funny how different a room looks in the day than at night.”
She nodded. “I’ve often thought the same. There’s something very scary and romantic about a darkened chamber, especially one where you don’t belong.”
“Scaryandromantic?” he asked with a smile.
She returned it, and he was pleased that this time the expression actually looked real, not as forced as what she’d worn as she told him about her horrible childhood. “Scary can be romantic,” she explained. “Just a tiny bit of a scare is thrilling. Uncertainty is thrilling.Youare scary, Mr. Huntington.”
He arched a brow as he moved toward her, drawn to her, yet again, like the moth to the flame her companion had spoken about a lifetime ago. “Am I?” he whispered. “I don’t try to be.”
“If you tried to be, you wouldn’t be,” she said, and chuckled as she wound a hand up into his hair and guided his mouth to hers.
He kissed her as she demanded, tasting remnants of tears on her lips, deepening the kiss to erase them all. She melted against him with a little moan, her fingers gripping his forearms, her body molding to his from chest to hip, her skirts tangling around his legs.
He could have stood like that forever, just holding her and tasting her and being in her presence. But she had something else in mind if the way she lifted into him was any indication. Today he had no intention of letting her down.
He broke the kiss and smiled down at her. The one she returned was shaky, not the usual confident display that normally brightened her face and drove him mad. Confession had made her vulnerable. He wanted to honor that.
He turned her so that her back was to him and flicked each button of her gown open one by one, revealing her bare back, the arch of her spine. He chuckled. “Do youeverwear undergarments?”
She shook her head and leaned back against his chest with a little sigh. “Never.”
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to him, then leaned in and kissed the side of her neck. She arched a little, granting him greater access, making a soft sound of pleasure as her shaking body relaxed against him.
He reveled in the surrender. It was not easily won with a woman like Selina. Normally when he made love to her, it was a battlefield, all passion and fire and parry and thrust. Today he wanted to give her something different.
He slid his fingers into the gap of her dress, dancing the tips along her soft skin, eliciting a hiss of sensation from her. Then he pushed the gown forward. She tugged it away, giving her hips a little shake so that it pooled around her feet.
She turned into him, rising on the balls of her feet, wending her arms around his neck, kissing him hard. It was so easy to get swept up in her, just as she intended it to be. But he managed to keep his wits about him. When she thrust her tongue, he caressed gently, slowing the kiss, pushing his fingers into her hair to angle her for better access, deepening and tasting and exploring like they had all the time in the world.
She made a little sound, almost of confusion, in the back of her throat, but then she slowed herself. And the kiss went on and on until every nerve in his body was on fire.
“Please,” she whispered against his lips, her fingers digging into his back. “Please, please.”
He nodded and cupped her backside, lifting her to him. She wrapped her long legs around his hips, rocking against him as he carried her to her bed. He laid her down and covered her, fully clothed as he continued to kiss her.
“Hurry,” she mumbled as she dragged her hands down his back and cupped his backside, tugging him hard against her with a tiny moan at the abrasion of his rough trousers against her soft, wet sex.
“Not this time,” he growled against her neck before he began to lick and kiss a trail lower. He nipped at her skin, sucking, tasting, savoring her flavor. She writhed beneath him, whispering incoherent sounds of pleasure that ripped through his veins and burned in his blood and his gut and his cock. He wanted to tear the flap of his trousers down and just take her, but he resisted.
Today wasn’t simply about claiming. Today was something more. He needed it to be about more because she’d given so much a short while ago.
So he continued the path down her body, pausing at the sweet swell of her breasts. He pressed them together, licking a trail back and forth, sucking hard on one nipple, then the other. He watched her as he pleasured her, watching the twitch of her mouth, the flush of her skin, felt her hips rub and rub against him, trying to find release that he wouldn’t give. He loved that responsiveness, that utter disregard for anything but sensation. He wanted to keep her there, cut off from anything but these good feelings, for as long as he could.
He dropped his mouth lower, across the smooth expanse of her stomach. He nudged the sensitive flesh with the rough beginnings of stubble, and she actually arched up, her toes flexing against the bed beneath them.
“Please!” she cried out, this time with more aggression. “Derrick!”
He shook his head as he lifted it. “Miss Oliver, you may control a great deal. But not me.”
Her pupils dilated and her nipples hardened a bit more. She liked when he took control. He understood why now. Her entire life she’d been balanced on a precipice of despair. She’d never been able to depend on anyone.
Would that have turned her to crime?
No. He wouldn’t think about that. Not when he was covering her naked body with his, steeped in her warmth and her surrender. He refused to think about his suspicions.
