He brushed his mouth over hers, and when her lips parted for him he took her harder, greedy for the taste of her, his fingers tightening in her hair. Her tongue crept out to touch his and Cam groaned, lost to the desire pounding through him. Again and again he kissed her, his mouth hot against hers, until her body softened and she pressed her warm palms against his chest with a sigh.
He burned where she touched him. His mouth, his body. He’d wanted her forever, it seemed, just as she was now, her scent teasing his nostrils and fistfuls of her silky hair spilling over his palms.
Lose yourself in her.There would be time for truth later, time for explanations and apologies.
For regrets?
Cam tore his mouth from hers to gaze down at her. Her dark eyes were squeezed closed, her lashes fanned out against the smooth, pale skin of her cheeks. “If you want me to go, Eleanor,” he murmured, his lips against her ear, “tell me so now.”
But she didn’t tell him to go. She flattened her hands against his chest and her fingers curled into his waistcoat. “Why, Cam? If you knew my threat against Amelia to be an empty one, why did you make me admit I’d never hurt her?”
He touched his mouth to hers again, but he let himself linger for a moment only, then he pulled away before he could kiss her again, before he couldn’t stop. “So you’d know you never could have. So you’d know it was the truth.”
“But . . . why should it matter to you if I know it?”
He cupped her face in his hands. “That threat would have haunted you, Eleanor. I couldn’t let that happen.”
She searched his face, her eyes alight with that same astonished wonder he’d seen earlier. “But why should you care if it haunts me? I threatened to ruin your sister. Perhaps I deserve to be haunted.”
“You don’t deserve it.” His green eyes were fierce. “Ishouldcare. I do care.”
She released him, and Cam’s heart plummeted in his chest as he waited for her to push him away.
He’d go. He’d do whatever she asked of him.
She touched the top button of his waistcoat. Opened it.
“Eleanor?” He watched as her slim, white fingers moved to the second button of his waistcoat, then the third.
He gazed down at her in disbelief. Her mouth was soft, open. She rose to the tips of her toes, and titled her head back. An invitation.
“Ellie? Do you want this?”
She drew his waistcoat over his shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
He pulled her closer, held her tighter, felt her tremble as her breasts were crushed against his chest. “Do you want . . . me?”
Her eyes never left his as she reached down and loosened the top button of his breeches.
Cam tried to catch his breath as she tugged his shirt free and slipped her hand underneath to touch his bare stomach. He threw his head back to give her access to him, groaning his pleasure as she kissed his throat, his neck, her lips drifting over his collarbones before they came to rest in the center of his chest, over his heart.
He panted as her kisses drifted over his skin, but he fought against the fog of desire, struggling to remember . . . something. Ah, God, he couldn’t think—not when her mouth was on him, and her hands, her soft hands stroking his stomach, his muscles jerking, leaping to meet her touch, his breath coming fast now, harsh in his chest, and her hand drifting lower . . .
Yes. God, yes.
He closed his eyes. It didn’t matter. Whatever he’d wanted to know, whatever he’d wanted to say, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was this, her hands and her mouth on him. All that mattered was she wanted him . . .
Wanted him. Cam opened his eyes. She hadn’t said she wanted him. She hadn’t said a word. Even as she ran her eager hands over his body, even as she made him ache for her, she remained silent.
He gasped when she slipped a finger inside the top of his breeches. His hands shot out to grasp her waist and pull her hard against him. He pressed his palm into the arch of her lower back, his hips tight against hers so she could feel how hard he was for her. He nudged against her once, then again, subtle but insistent. “Do you feel me, Eleanor? That’s how much I want you. Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Tell me what to do.”
He gathered handfuls of her long hair, twisting it around his hands and tangling his fingers in the dark silk of it, as he’d dreamed of doing. He held her to his chest, waited. Life had taught him to take, not give, but this. . . he couldn’t take this from her. She had to give herself to him—all of herself, willingly, with no reservations.
She looked into his eyes. “I want you. Stay with me.”
She took his face between her palms and opened her lips over his on a sigh that weakened his knees. He slipped inside to stroke deep into her mouth, to coax her tongue to meet his. Her caress was hesitant, then bolder, her tongue seeking his. He groaned into her dark, sweet mouth, his kiss harder now, more demanding. He wrapped an arm around her back and swept her up, cradling her high against his chest. “Hold onto me.”
She twined her arms around him, and he shivered with desire when she brushed her hand over the back of his neck and threaded her fingers in his hair. He carried her across the room, lay her on the bed and gazed down at her for a moment without a word.
