Page 24 of By Any Other Name

“Rylla . . .” The word came out a groan. His hands came up to frame her face. “Of course I want to kiss you. I can think of nothing else. But you must know I cannot. I would be a scoundrel to take advantage of you that way. Here, under my roof.”

“You mean you were a scoundrel when you kissed me here the other day?”

“No doubt. But at least then I did not know you.”

“It’s worse to kiss someone you know?” Her voice was lightly teasing. The treacherous tautness deep within him grew worse.

“You are playing with me.” He knew she must feel the rush of heat in his hands, hear the unevenness of his voice as restraint warred with passion.

“And you no longer wish to play with me?”

“There is nothing I would like more.” It was becoming exceedingly hard to think.

She laid her hands flat on his chest, sliding them up him as she rose onto her toes again, stretching up until her lips were perilously close to his. “Then why don’t you?”

“You have given me your trust. You’re in my care. I should protect you.”

“From yourself?” Rylla’s hands slipped over his shoulders and around to the nape of his neck. Her fingers glided up his neck and into his hair, sending shivers down his spine.

“Especially from me.” He could not keep from tasting her lips. Just one small kiss would not matter, surely. He knew as soon as his mouth touched hers that that was a lie. It was all he could do to pull away.

There was a wicked glint in her eye. “But who shall protect you from me?” Rylla tugged his head down to hers.

All resistance fled him. Gregory kissed her deeply and at length, savoring the pleasure of her soft mouth, exploring its welcoming heat. He let his hands glide over her, caressing her neck and breasts and sides. The journey was sweet, but he was too eager to reach his goal to linger on the way. He curved over her buttocks as he had been imagining all evening, fingertips digging in and lifting the firm mounds, pressing her into his body, imprinting her softness with the full hard evidence of his desire.

Rylla threw her arms around his neck, clinging tightly, hooking her leg around his, as if she would climb straight up his body. He lifted her from the ground and turned, reeling, until he came up hard against the wall. He was on fire now, desire pounding through him.

One arm braced against the wall beside her head, he pinned her there, kissing her as if his life depended upon it. His other hand slid over her body, impatiently opening her waistcoat and shirt and slipping beneath them. He roamed over her breasts, enticing the nipples into hard points of desire. His fingers moved down to the place between her legs that he had ached to touch for hours. For days. She was hot and tight, and it made him shudder to find the material already damp.

“Rylla . . .” Her name was like a prayer on his lips as his mouth roamed down her neck. His fingers moved insistently against her. She separated her legs, opening herself to him. “Rylla . . . no . . . tell me to stop. Else soon I will not be able to.”

Her answer was a little moan, and she arched up against his hand. “I don’t want you to stop.”

And he was lost.

♦ ♦ ♦

Rylla had been thinking of this, dreaming of this, for days. She had not known exactly what she wanted other than a recurrence of the pleasure she had felt at his hands before, but she understood now that this frantic, desperate need that pulsed in Gregory was exactly what she hungered for.

He swept her up in his arms, carrying her to his bed, kicking the bedroom door closed behind them, as though to shut them away from the world even more deeply. Gregory laid her down on the bed, treating her as gently as porcelain despite the taut hunger that limned every inch of him. His eyes on her, he disrobed swiftly, and Rylla watched with fascination. He was so new, so different, to her eyes, his long torso and limbs captivating her, as his fingers had, with their combination of strength and lean grace. The sight of his naked maleness brought a moment’s trepidation, but it was more excitement and eagerness than fear that welled up in her. Rylla fumbled at her own neckcloth, fingers clumsy on the unfamiliar clothes.

“Here, I’ll do it.” Gregory sat down beside her on the bed, expertly going to work on the neckcloth and the buttons of her waistcoat. She sat up and let him pull the garments from her and toss them aside, leaving her upper body naked to his eyes.

He drank her in, his face turning heavy and slack with passion as he reached out to cover her breasts. The look in his eyes made the low, hot ache in her throb more fiercely, and as he caressed her, she stretched beneath his hands like a cat, whatever embarrassment and shyness she had felt at her nakedness swept away by the pleasure of his touch.

Gregory reached down to pull off her shoes and stockings, pausing to caress each narrow foot and slide up her calf to the hem of her breeches. Then he went to the buttons at the top of her breeches, taking his time and sliding his hand inside to stroke and tease her. Rylla gasped at the intense pleasure and moved restlessly beneath his fingers, seeking more.

He stripped off the breeches impatiently, and she thought he would come into her then, but instead his hand returned to tempt and delight her, and he lowered his mouth to her breast. Rylla let out a low moan at the twin pleasures, and she twined her fingers through his hair, holding him to her.

An impatient need built inside her, and just when she thought she could not bear the exquisite pleasure any longer, he parted her legs and moved in between them. He slid up her body, his flesh probing delicately at her tight entrance. Her breath caught in her throat, and she knew with a burst of loss and confusion that this simply would not work, and then he was pushing into her, slow and steady. She started instinctively to pull back, but his hands went to her hips, holding her in place, and then, with a flash of pain, he was inside her.

He went still, and she could see the fierce concentration in his face as he waited. His voice was hoarse as he said, “Look at me, Rylla.”

She did as he said, gazing up into his glittering blue eyes, and let herself relax. He bent, taking her lips in a slow, deep kiss. Rylla curled her arms around him, giving herself up to the pleasure of his mouth. He slid into her, inch by slow inch, as he kissed her face and neck. He filled her, bringing her a satisfaction she had never imagined, and as he stroked in and out, she felt need knotting in her.

Rylla dug her fingers into his back, aching for something she could not name, knowing only that the tension in her was almost unbearable. His hand moved down between them, his thumb finding the sensitive bud of flesh between her legs, and she drew in her breath sharply. She tightened all over, digging in her heels, as he drove into her harder and faster. Suddenly the tangle of tension exploded, pleasure washing out through her in deep, strong waves. Gregory shuddered violently, a low cry torn from his throat, and collapsed against her. Rylla wrapped her arms and legs around him, clinging, as she gave herself up to the sweet ecstasy.

Chapter Eleven