Desire and Deception (53 page)

Jason stared at her, wondering how the slight lift of the corners of her mouth could be so demure and alluring at the same time. "I'd like you visit Duval in the morning and assure him you're happily married to me. I don't want him interfering in our lives, any more than I want him coveting you."

"Very well.
And three?"

"Three is that we make the most of the time we have left."

Lauren's smile never wavered as she locked her fingers behind his neck. "Oh?" she said provocatively, her voice husky with happiness. "You mean like this?" Slowly she brought her lips within a hairsbreadth of his, while her muslin- covered breasts pressed against his bare chest.

Jason nearly groaned as a fierce wave of desire gripped him. "I married a clever lady," he rasped, before capturing Lauren's mouth in a possessive, flaming kiss.

Morning dawned sodden and gray, the magnificent thunderstorm that had shaken the heavens the previous evening having worn
itself
out, leaving behind a steady drizzle. Shivering as a draft caressed her bare shoulders, Lauren tried to snuggle closer to Jason's warm body, but his muscular arm was draped across her ribs, its pleasant heaviness effectively pinning her down.

As her eyelids fluttered open, a vague thought teased her. During the two weeks of her marriage, she had frequently awakened to find Jason's arms around her, but this morning he was still asleep. Usually by now he was nibbling on her ear or pressing stirring kisses on her lips.

Not wanting to disturb his peaceful slumber, Lauren lay there watching him, letting her gaze roam lovingly over his face. His sun-gilded hair was tousled, the curve of his mouth as relaxed as the tiny laugh lines about his eyes. Drinking in the sight, Lauren again felt a heart-warming sense of wonder that she should be loved by this devastating man. How could she have thought to keep her affections safe by avoiding him? Forswearing Jason Stuart was like ignoring a sunburst after a fierce storm. But now this magnificent male belonged to her— and Desiree
Chaudier
was probably green with envy. Lauren smiled softly, contentedly, inwardly hugging her happiness to her like a luxurious fur.

It was this smile Jason saw when he awakened. He returned it, measure for measure,
his
blue eyes full of tenderness. "Good morning," he murmured, his simple greeting making Lauren's pulse quicken.

She reached up to touch his face with a slim finger, tracing the dimpled crease in his cheek to the corner of his mouth. "I'm cold, Jason," she whispered in her husky voice.

Jason lifted an amused brow. "And you expect me to be sympathetic? When you insist on having the window open?" Yet he drew Lauren into the warm circle of his arms and pulled the covers up over her chilled shoulders. Entwining his iron-
thewn
legs with
her own
shapely limbs, he gave an exaggerated sigh. "I'm fortunate to have such a strong constitution. Otherwise, I'd probably freeze to death, sleeping with you."

Lauren's laughter was muffled against his bare chest as she curled against him. "Not true! You're never cold. Besides, you're the one who insists on never wearing clothes to bed. Do you even own a nightshirt?"

"Several, in fact.
In England my valet ensures that each of my residences is equipped with at least one. Strictly for appearance's sake when I have guests, of course."

"Each of your residences?
Goodness, how many do you have?"

Jason lifted a thick golden tress from her shoulder and inhaled the fragrant scent of her hair. "Well, there's the principal seat of the
Marquess
of
Effing
in Kent, and the London townhouse.
Two country manor houses —one in Yorkshire and the other in Devon.
A moldering castle in Scotland and
a hunting
box in the
Cotswolds
of
Oxfordshire
. Oh, and a cottage by the sea in Brighton. Call it a half dozen, for I'm not certain the hunting box can boast a nightshirt."

Lauren's eyes widened as Jason enumerated the properties he owned. No wonder he thought so little of buying her a mansion in New Orleans. He must be well off indeed, if not actually rich. When she thought of the hunting box, though, she drew back and arched a delicate brow at her husband. "I suppose in
Oxfordshire
your female guests didn't consider it necessary to wear anything to sleep in, either. Tell me, do gentlemen actually find time to hunt game at such places?"

Jason grinned and stole a kiss from her sweetly pouting lips. "There generally isn't much sleep to be had, in any case. But now that my bachelor days are over, I don't expect to be inviting anyone there but you. We could have a delightful time if you were to reconsider and come to England with me."

"Jason, you promised—"

"So I did.
A slip of the tongue.
But I haven't given you any reason to regret marrying me, have I, wife?"

"No, husband," Lauren admitted meekly, pressing closer.

"And yet you almost succeeded in getting rid of me last night. I very nearly drowned."

Lauren laughed as she remembered how the driving rain had lashed at Jason as he tried to shut the window against the storm. His shirt had been soaked before he succeeded. He hadn't closed the window entirely, knowing her fear of being shut in, but only enough to keep the deluge out and create an atmosphere of cozy intimacy. And even though the storm had continued to rage through the night, Lauren had slept easily, feeling safe and secure in Jason's embrace.

Now, however, she realized that the rain would spoil the plans they had made. Raising herself up on an elbow, she glanced at the window, her expression registering her disappointment. "And you were going to teach me how to swim today. My lesson will have to be called off."

Jason stretched with lazy unconcern. "There will be other days—and the sun may still make an appearance later."

Lauren could feel the muscles of his hard body rippling against her skin, while his heat bathed her heightened senses. She met Jason's intent gaze as warmth stirred within her. "So," she said demurely, "what shall we do this morning?"

Jason drew an idle finger along her collarbone. "There is always breakfast," he
murmured,
his smile burning and lazy.

"I'm not hungry," she replied, knowing his look of desire was mirrored in her own eyes.

"In that case, milady, might I suggest a lesson . . . of a different nature?" When Lauren regarded him in puzzlement, Jason threaded a hand in her silken hair and slowly drew her head down until their lips met. "God, that glorious hair," he rasped against her mouth as her flowing golden mane cascaded over him. "I want it wrapped around me. I want
you
wrapped around me. . . ." His mouth moved gently over hers while his tongue flicked at her lips, parting them, seeking out the sweet treasure within.

As always, the fire of his kiss took Lauren's breath away, but this highly sensitive play of Jason's elicited a warm excitement that was somehow new. His tongue coaxed sweetly, fondling and caressing her into a similar play of her own, while his fingers closed over hers. She was only a bit startled when he guided her hand to his hard, proud shaft.

It didn't take long for Lauren to learn what pleased him, for he murmured softly in her ear, urging, cautioning, encouraging, his words stimulating her as he taught her how to caress and arouse him. And Lauren soon discovered an unexpected enjoyment being the one to set the pace.

Wanting very much to give Jason the kind of pleasure that he had always given her, she drew her mouth from his and let her lips roam down his corded neck to the satin skin of his shoulder, while her slim fingers continued their erotic ministrations. Her nibbling kisses were tentative at first, but they grew bolder as she watched Jason's face contort with passion. She fondled each of his tight male nipples with her tongue,
then
moved down his powerful body with tantalizing slowness, delighting in the silken heat of his muscled rib cage.

When she reached his hard, flat belly, she paused briefly to give him a thoughtful glance. Then kneeling above him, her hair spilling down to caress his skin, she imitated the way he had made love to her that day by the pool, touching him with her tongue.

Jason's grip tightened almost painfully in her hair as he shuddered reflexively, but the next moment he became very still, as if he were fearful of frightening her away. Lauren bent to him again, her mouth sweet and warm as she tasted him fully. Languidly, lovingly, she teased his rigid flesh, exulting in the soft groans that escaped him, wanting to make Jason need her as much as she needed him.

Jason could only withstand so much exquisite torture, though. He reached for Lauren, pulling her full length on top of him. "Sweet Jesus, where did you learn how to do that?" he demanded in a voice that was thick with passion.

Her eyes were questioning as they met his. "Veronique said men enjoyed that," Lauren said uncertainly. "Didn't you like it?"

"Of course I liked it. It's just not a skill one expects to find in a wife."

Lauren's brows drew together worriedly. "Truly, Jason, I've never done anything like that before:—"

He touched a finger to her lips. "I believe you, sweetheart. But you do it so very well, not at all like a beginner. You nearly made me lose control."

Reassured that he wasn't angry, Lauren flashed him a provocative siren's smile. "Perhaps I should practice."

"Oh, no."
Catching her wrists, Jason prevented her from repeating her ministrations. "Now it's my turn to torment you," he declared huskily. Releasing her then, his hands slid down her back to grasp her hips, and before Lauren could even guess his intent, Jason had lifted her up. When she found herself straddling his stomach, her eyes widened, but she waited expectantly, trustingly.

Jason splayed his fingers over her abdomen, sliding his hands smoothly upward to her breasts. Almost reverently, he cupped the tempting swells, filling his palms with her lush fullness, and as he held her glowing eyes with his gaze, his thumbs massaged the swollen tips. He teased the sensitive peaks till they were rigid and aching, then
slowly,
he drew Lauren down till he could draw a nipple into his mouth.

The taste of her seemed to trigger some more primitive instinct within Jason, for his lovemaking became half savage in its intensity. His mouth ravaged her breast . . . devouring, suckling, his teeth raking gently. . . . And then the next moment he was soothing, fondling, kissing.

If Lauren had been a cat, she would have purred. As it was, she could only moan at the delicious heat building inside her. And when Jason's questing fingers found the soft curls between her thighs, she whimpered and arched against him. She hardly heard the sensuous words Jason was murmuring to excite her further, for he was alternately pressing his palm hard against her,
then
teasing her with skillful, knowing fingers.

Sometime later, he lifted her up and slid easily inside her, possessing her in one continuous thrust that filled her. Lauren gasped with pleasure when she was impaled on his heated velvet spear. Letting her head fall back, she arched her spine. The heat was scorching her, setting her on fire. It was like being too close to the sun. This, she thought dizzily, was how Phaethon must have felt driving the flaming chariot across the sky—giddy and dazed and reeling.

Jason began to move inside her then, but he had only to thrust twice before Lauren burst into flames. Jason watched hungrily, his gratification complete, as she surged to a fiery climax. Only an iron-willed control kept him from succumbing to the white heat consuming her.

When Lauren at last regained her senses, she discovered that was she lying limply, almost lifelessly, upon Jason's chest. His rigid shaft was still full and throbbing within her, like a deep, slow pulse of pleasure. When Jason slowly began to move again, Lauren almost protested; she wasn't at all sure she could survive another shattering experience like the last.

"Come with me, sweetheart," Jason urged as he sensed her holding back. "Come with me." His breath was hot against her skin, while his seeking hands moved intimately over her flesh.