His Wicked Heart (32 page)

Moonlight spilled through a gap in the
curtains and arced across his face, highlighting the rough planes.
“Don’t say that. You deserve far better than you’ve gotten. Your
life has been at the mercy of others, including mine.”

That was true. He could easily expose her as
a bastard daughter of a whore. But she knew he wouldn’t. “You won’t
hurt me.”

“Perhaps I already have. I had no right to
take advantage of your vulnerability at Benfield.”

“You didn’t. Why can’t you accept that it
wasn’t your fault?”

“Because I’ve done it before.” The words came
out on a whisper that Olivia could barely hear. But she didn’t dare
ask him to repeat himself. She could see what saying it had cost
him. He turned away from her, his hands fisted again, his mouth
compressed tight. “I ruined another girl, long ago.”

“What happened to her?” Olivia asked because
she thought he wanted to tell her. She supposed she wanted to know,
but it wasn’t the most important thing to her right now. Soothing
him, giving him comfort when he’d given it to her—that was
paramount.

“The duke got rid of her. She wouldn’t have
been an acceptable countess—or duchess—in his eyes, and so she
simply disappeared.”

Olivia’s gut twisted. “You loved her.”

He nodded, and Olivia’s heart broke for his
loss. She went to him and touched his face, turning him back toward
the glow of the moonlight. “I won’t leave you. Not tonight.”

WITH A burning stare, Olivia kissed him.
Jasper knew he should go, tried to make his feet move, but in the
end, he wrapped his arms around her and clasped her close. The kiss
became two, then three, their lips touching, sucking. He shouldn’t
allow her to seduce him, but he needed her. Just like she’d said
she needed him.

She slanted her head and opened her mouth
over his. Her tongue thrust inside. His fingers bit into her back,
holding her against him with a ferocity borne of desperation. She
didn’t seem to notice or mind, for she kissed him with an intensity
that spun his mind from his body until he couldn’t think, only feel
her hands stroking through his hair, sliding over his collar.

Jasper shrugged his coat to the floor while
her fingers worked at his cravat, tugging the knot loose and
tossing the fabric aside. He plucked at the buttons of his
waistcoat, pulling one completely off the silk in his haste. Before
he could rid himself of the garment, she was pulling his shirt from
the waistband of his breeches. Her fingers grazed his bare flesh.
Desire catapulted through him.

His waistcoat joined his coat and was quickly
followed by his shirt. His arms still raised, she stroked down his
chest. She studied his nipples, her fingertips circling them.
Slowly, he lowered his arms, trying to keep hold of his restraint
when he wanted nothing more than to lay her back on the bed and
sink deep inside of her.

But she was controlling this. She had wanted
it, asked for it. Never had he acquiesced command. Never before had
it seemed important, vital.

She lifted her gaze to his in silent
question. He gave a slight nod, and she smiled. The effect was
devastating. Jasper groaned, eager for whatever she might offer.
She turned and climbed onto the bed and beckoned him to follow.

She kneeled atop the coverlet and he sat
beside her until she pushed him back against the pillows. Once he
was fully reclined, she pulled his boots and stockings from his
feet.

Jasper schooled himself to lie still and not
help her. Her fingers moved to his waistband then paused. His
pelvis thrummed with the need to arch up toward her. Instead, he
waited, his breath drawn.

She lowered her mouth to his chest and
lightly kissed his aching flesh. He cast his head back against the
pillow as she opened his fall and tugged his breeches down his
thighs. His breathing came heavier while her lips burned a trail
toward his hips. She couldn’t mean to…

Cool air rushed over his loins as she
stripped away his small clothes, leaving him naked to her desire.
Moments passed in which her mouth moved down with agonizing
languor. Jasper tensed, his hips suspended in a tight arc.

He closed his eyes as her hand encircled his
shaft. With exquisite care her palm rose up to the tip, employing
the same method he’d instructed those many days ago—was it a week
or a month or even a year?

She licked at his hipbone, eliciting a gasp
from his lips and a jerk from his thighs. In giving her control,
he’d weakened his. He didn’t know how long he could last. Her hand
worked another blissful moment and then her breath fell across his
swollen flesh and his entire body went taut. She paused.

His eyes flew open. He angled his neck so he
could look down at her. The silken length of her auburn hair flowed
over his thigh. Her fist was wrapped around his cock, her mouth
poised… Heat rushed through him at this provocative vision. “May
I?” She didn’t finish the question, but her meaning was clear.

Jasper nodded, unable to form words.

Then her lips were upon him and he lost all
ability to think of anything beyond her touch. Gingerly, she kissed
his flesh at first, her lips exploring, her hand continuing to grip
him at the base. She opened her mouth wider, allowing her tongue to
graze the tip. He knew moisture leaked, felt her draw back in
surprise. He resisted the urge to hold her head to him, force her
back to quench his need.

He didn’t have to. She renewed her assault,
this time with more surety. Her mouth closed over him and somehow,
God somehow, she knew to slide her hand up until it nearly met her
lips. Then down again as her tongue worked in delicious circles.
Pleasure built within him. He thrust his hand into her hair, unable
to keep himself from her another moment. She sucked, her mouth
tightening around him, drawing his seed forth. No, he didn’t want
this to end. Not yet.

He hadn’t really abandoned his control,
merely allowed it to subside. For her. Careful not to steal what
he’d so gladly given, he tugged at her hair. “You have to
stop.”

She lifted her head. Her cheeks were flushed,
her eyes bright. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to come like that.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh. I thought you liked
it.”

“God, yes. But I want to be inside of you. I
want us to share tonight.” He knew it was true, just as he knew
there shouldn’t even be a tonight. He thrust the reality of their
incompatible stations—an heir to a dukedom and the bastard daughter
of a whore—from his mind, refusing to let it intrude. “Come up
here.”

He held out his hand, and she placed hers in
his palm. Reluctantly, she let go of his cock and slid up his body.
He ground his teeth, working to keep himself together. Because
she’d started this and because she’d seemed so eager to drive the
encounter, he guided her to straddle him. The heat of her core
pressed against his lower abdomen.

She still wore her voluminous nightgown, much
to his chagrin. In silent question, he ran his hand up her thigh
beneath the linen. To answer, she pulled the garment over her head
and threw it to join his clothing.

Jasper inhaled at her naked beauty. Her flesh
gleamed palest ivory in the moonlight. The tips of her breasts
lured him like rose-colored velvet. He leaned up and took one into
his mouth, sucking the nipple into a tight pebble.

She gasped and threaded her fingers in his
hair. He massaged her hips, settling her lower against him, seeking
her warmth against his aching shaft. He ran his left hand up her
side to cup her other breast. The soft weight of her filled his
palm. She felt so good. He lifted his other hand and wrapped it
around the breast he suckled. Raising his mouth, he tweaked both
nipples. Then he returned with greater fervor, drawing on her
flesh, nipping and sucking at it until she moaned. Moisture seeped
from her as she ground her hips down against him. Jasper arched up,
his cock rubbing her clitoris.

He moved to her other breast with savage
precision. He licked around the nipple, squeezing her flesh. She
pushed down on him again. Pleasure pulsed through his belly. It had
to be soon.

He kept his mouth on her, but widened her
legs. He stroked down her body, his fingers seeking her wet cleft,
the flesh satiny soft and so, so hot. She cried out and her muscles
clenched. She was so close and he’d barely touched her there. The
level of her desire humbled him.

Parting her flesh, he guided himself inside.
He wanted to thrust deep, claim her body with a vicious stroke, but
this was her night and so he waited for her direction.

She sat forward slightly, her body angled
perfectly to receive him and then she pushed herself down until
she’d taken him completely inside. He fell back with her movement,
releasing her breast with a groan. She followed him, moving over
his chest until her nipples brushed against him. Her knees came up
on either side of him.

Her eyes had been closed, but now they opened
and studied him with wonder. He returned her stare. Slowly, she
rose up, her hands pushing against his chest. He burned with need,
praying for her to establish a rhythm that was quick and hard. She
came back down again, her cleft swallowing him whole, her eyes
widening the smallest bit. He gripped her hips, and the movement
loosened something within her. She moaned and pitched herself
forward, her mouth taking his in a lustful, impassioned kiss that
sent him to the very edge of sanity.

Her hips moved up and down, establishing the
rhythm he craved. She rotated wildly against him, seeking release.
He moved his hand to stroke her clitoris. Almost immediately she
cried out against his mouth. She pulled up, giving him greater
access. He pressed his thumb against her in swirling circles to
create a throbbing friction. Moisture coated his shaft while her
muscles clenched around him.

Her body jerked; she lost control of the
rhythm. God, no, he couldn’t let it go yet. In one fluid, desperate
arc, he turned her to her back and drove into her, continuing the
ebb and stroke. She wrapped her legs around him, her hips rising to
meet each thrust. His seed pulsed forth. He had to get out.
Now
.

But he couldn’t. He buried himself deep and
took her mouth in a ferocious kiss. She was his. If not forever,
then for now. God yes, for right now. The moment stretched into
blissful eternity, his body pumping his insecurity, his
desperation, his craving into her, the only comfort he could
recall. Perhaps the only comfort he had ever known.

THE next afternoon, Olivia sat in the Rose
Room stitching the buttons on Jasper’s waistcoat. Last night had
been a revelation in so many ways. She didn’t think she’d ever
opened herself to anyone the way she had to Jasper. He’d demanded
her absolute honesty, and she’d given it. Not out of fear, but out
of the desire to have someone with her. Someone who wouldn’t judge
her. Somehow—impossibly given the way their relationship had
begun—Jasper had become that person.

He’d left her early, before it was even
light. He’d kissed her brow. There had been no talk of another
encounter or of the future. But neither had there been talk of
regret. Olivia had no expectations where he was concerned,
especially after hearing about his past. He’d already made the
mistake of falling in love with someone he couldn’t marry. She
didn’t think he’d do it again.

And she was definitely someone he couldn’t
marry. Though her background might be secret, he knew the truth—and
she believed his duty wouldn’t allow him to choose her.

Bernard came into the drawing room. “Lady
Lydia Prewitt and Miss Cheswick are here to see you, Miss
West.”

Olivia stabbed herself in the finger, and
then rubbed her thumb over the stinging flesh. They’d wasted no
time in visiting as they’d promised. “Please have tea sent in.
Thank you, Bernard.”

So kind of him to announce the guests instead
of bringing them directly. Olivia would stitch him a new
handkerchief as soon as she finished the waistcoat.

She jerked her head up. The waistcoat! She
couldn’t let them see her sewing a garment that Jasper would
presumably wear in public. Quickly, she stuffed the garment into
the basket at her feet and shoved it under the settee.

Lady Lydia entered, her sharp brown eyes
assessing the room. Audrey followed, offering a cheerful smile.
“Good afternoon, Olivia.” Her gaze went to Merry’s painting. “Lord
Merriweather’s, I presume?”

Of course, Audrey was well-acquainted with
his work. Her grandfather had several of his paintings in his
townhouse, which Olivia had viewed at Lord Farringdon’s dinner
party. “Yes, that’s Merriweather Hall in Yorkshire.”

Audrey joined Olivia on the pink brocaded
settee. “It’s beautiful. He possessed such skill.”