Jordan, Nicole - Notorious 1 (16 page)

Silently he opened the secret panel to her room, demonstrating how the catch worked by exerting the slightest pull.

When he turned to go, Vanessa felt a keen sense of regret. “You don’t mean to stay?” she was startled into asking.

His mouth curved in a sweet, sad smile. “I don’t trust myself.” He pressed a finger to her lips. “I want you very, very much, angel. More than you can possibly imagine. But I am willing to wait until you want me as well. When you are ready, I will not have to come to you. You will come to me.”

He left her then, taking the light with him. Almost unwillingly Vanessa entered her bedchamber and slid the panel door shut behind her.

In the darkness of her room, she wandered about, restless and unsettled, her thoughts on Damien Sinclair. Try as she might, she couldn’t forget the sensation of his body against hers, or the enchanting taste of his kiss, or the fierce explosion of pleasure he had aroused in her.

For weeks she had fought against succumbing to his powerful masculinity, but tonight she had lost the battle. Shamefully, though, she felt no remorse.

Briefly Vanessa shut her eyes. The memory of Damien’s embrace filled her with a sweet, aching longing that was totally foreign to her. He had taken her someplace she’d never been before, someplace brilliant and terrifying. She had become a stranger to herself, to the frenzy of desire that had overwhelmed her. Damien had given her a glimpse of paradise, shown her how desperately a woman could want a man. How desperatelyshe could want.

Vanessa shook her head and shivered. How could he be so gentle yet cause such a tumult of violent emotions within her? Such passion and desire and fierce, fierce need? He was unlike any man she had ever known, a fantasy lover who could draw the very soul from a woman’s body.

Trembling at the memory, Vanessa disrobed and put on her nightdress. Mechanically she hung up her damp gown and brushed out her hair. Then she lay down on the bed, though she knew sleep wouldn’t come. The restless longing she felt would not go away.

For a long while she stared up at the canopy overhead, her breasts keenly sensitive, a hollow ache between her thighs. In the darkness, an unbidden image of Damien flowed into her mind. His sensual, chiseled features. His heated silver eyes, warm with tenderness. His beautiful, breathtaking mouth. His vibrant encircling arms that promised such rapture.

Her nerves raw with conflict, Vanessa rolled over and clutched the pillow to her body. The naked, frightening truth was that she wanted him. Wanted him to show her the mysteries of passion, as he’d promised.

She buried her face in the soft down, remembering his whispered words.When you are ready, I will not have to come to you. You will come to me .

Should she go to him?

Her heart took up a wild rhythm.

Slowly she sat up, her pulse beating in a slow painful cadence, while a knot of tension coiled in her stomach.

What would happen if she went to him?

She felt herself trembling. For an endless moment she fought a confused tangle of emotions: hope and fear, excitement and dismay, anticipation and disquiet.

What if she proved as cold and passionless as she feared? What if she did not?

In the end the decision was not really a conscious one.

As if in a dream, Vanessa slipped from her bed and lit a candle. Moving to the panel that hid the secret passageway, she found the catch and pressed.

Then, with her heart thudding in her chest, she took a deep breath and slid open the panel door.

She reached the end of the narrow passage and stopped, scarcely daring to breathe. The panel in the wall had a catch similar to her own, she saw.

Hesitating, Vanessa snuffed out the candle and stood alone in the darkness, her heartbeat painful and clamorous. At length, however, she gathered her courage and slid open the panel.

She had little trouble seeing, for the draperies had been left undrawn. The sweet summer night air drifted through an open window, while moonlight flooded the chamber with blue-white intensity.

The huge bed that dominated the room was occupied. The man on the bed lay absolutely still, cast in a glow of silver light and shadow.

She thought Damien might be sleeping. His hands were clasped behind his head, a pale linen sheet drawn up to his hips. But she was wrong. He was watching her. Her breath caught harshly.

In the hushed quiet of the room, their eyes locked.

“Did I wake you?” she asked, the question a shaky whisper of sound.

Slowly he rose up on his elbows. “No, I wasn’t asleep. But I must be dreaming. Are you a dream, angel?”

The warmth of his voice touched a quickness in her that left her trembling. “No. No dream.”

“Will you come here?” he prompted gently. “I dare not move for fear of frightening you away.”

He understood her terrible vulnerability, Vanessa realized. She moved unsteadily to stand beside the bed. She could hear the sharp sound of her own breathing in the quiet of the room.

His nearness made her excruciatingly aware of his nakedness. The sheet covered the lower part of his muscular body but did nothing to disguise the tapering chest, the lean, hard waist, the flat belly or narrow hips

When she stood paralyzed, Damien took the candlestick from her slack fingers and set it on the bedside table. Then, grasping her hand, he drew her slowly down to sit beside him.

For a long moment he said nothing, wanting to give her time to be certain of the decision she had made. After tonight there would be no turning back.

Her midnight eyes were huge and questioning as he reached to lift a curling tress from her breast. His fingers rubbed lightly, feeling the rich, silken texture.

“Your hair is exquisite. I’ve dreamed of having it wrapped around me.”

She made no response, mutely staring down at him.

His hand slid down her arm in a gentle caress. “Do I frighten you?” he murmured.

“I

I suppose

a little.”

“You frighten me as well

with your beauty, your innocence.”

He took her hand and placed it on his bare chest, letting her feel the strong beat of his heart. “Feel my heart, sweeting, how it quickens at your touch.”

When she remained immobile, his velvet voice dropped to a mere whisper. “I won’t press you, Vanessa. We will do whatever you wish, no more. You will set the pace between us. You have nothing to fear from me, I promise you.”

Her eyes remained riveted on his face. Moonlight danced over his features, accenting the high cheekbones, the lean jaw, the strong column of his throat. He was telling her the truth, she knew; the dark intensity in his gleaming eyes told her so.

Her gaze dropped lower, to the sleekly muscled chest beneath her fingertips, then nervously flickered back up to meet his.

“I

don’t

know what to do. Will you show me?”

An unconsciously tender smile turned one corner of his sensuous mouth. “I would be honored.”

His fingers closed over hers. “Touch me, Vanessa,” he urged softly.

Under his guidance, her hand moved over his body, caressing uncertainly at first, then with more eagerness. She could feel the hard muscles ripple beneath his skin, feel the heated strength of him, and it stirred a now familiar warmth within her.

She faltered, though, when her palm neared his groin. Sensing her discomfort, Damien unhurriedly drew aside the sheet that covered his loins, giving her a bold view of his arousal, pulsing and erect, between his sinewed thighs.

“I am just a man, cherie,” he murmured. “Flesh and blood, just like you. Feel me, sweeting. Feel how powerfully you arouse me.”

Inexorably his hand guided her to his throbbing erection, closing her fingers deliberately around him. Her breath spiraled away from her at the shocking feel of him; the huge, swollen length was rigid and rock hard, yet covered in smooth, heated velvet. Not so frightening after all, perhaps

Rather, it was strangely arousing.

“My flesh can be an instrument of pleasure, not just pain, Vanessa. And I swear to you, it will be for you.”

He moved on then, encouraging her hand lower, brushing the warm sac beneath his thick shaft, then over his powerful horseman’s thighs with their faint dusting of dark hair, lingering at his lean flank

Then, surprisingly, he released her hand.

“ ‘Tis your turn alone, angel. You may do as you like with me. I am at your mercy.”

It was a novel experience, having a powerful, virile man such as Lord Sin vulnerable and pliant beneath her touch. Somehow liberating. Intoxicating.

With a will of its own, her hand resumed its sinful exploration of his magnificent nude body, stroking, touching, lingering. He was beautiful, she thought, savoring the feel of his hard, warm flesh, the taut, smooth skin, the supple sinews. His masculine beauty inundated her senses, entrancing her.

“Yes

that’s it, sweeting

touch me.”

Holding her breath, she returned to his thick arousal and tentatively brushed the engorged length. It quivered at her touch.

Damien closed his eyes and let out a soft groan.

Immediately Vanessa drew back. “Did I hurt you?”

He gave a soft laugh. “Indeed, a pleasurable hurt. You can drive a man wild with such exquisite ministrations. Don’t stop, I beg you.”

She bit her lip, tinglingly aware of her newfound sense of feminine power, and yet she hesitated, her courage faltering.

Thankfully, Damien took the decision from her. Reaching up with a languid finger, he brushed her breast, which was hidden by the cambric bodice of her nightdress. Vanessa drew a sharp breath as her nipple peaked tightly beneath the thin fabric.

“Your nightdress, angel,” he queried softly, his voice dark velvet. “Must you leave it on?”

She went suddenly still. The thought of being naked with this man, of completely exposing her body to him, unnerved her, and yet, she knew he would not force her against her will. Again he was giving her a choice.

Shutting her eyes tightly for a moment, she lifted her hips off the bed and drew the garment over her head, then let it drop to the floor. She heard Damien’s intake of breath, saw his intent gaze flare with pleasure.

Her cheeks flaming, she started to cover her naked bosom with her arms, but he held her hands away. “No

let me look at you.”

Shame and wanton excitement flowed through her at the possessive intimacy of his heated gaze.

“Your breasts are exquisite, angel, high and lush, the nipples like delicate rosebuds. You shouldn’t be ashamed to let me see them.”

At his brazen scrutiny, she felt her nipples begin to ache, her breasts grow heavy.

“Come to me, sweeting,” he commanded. Reaching out, he took her by the arms and drew her down to lie against him, her bare, aching breasts pressed to his chest. Vanessa went rigid at the intimate contact.

“Just lie here with me a moment,” he cajoled. “I want to feel you in my arms.”

Obeying, she lay still, her entire body vibrating with shock and desire at the hard, naked heat of him. His hands stroked her back and he held her lightly, as if waiting for her coiled-tight tension to fade.

Eventually it did; after a time she felt her rigid muscles soften, grow weak. Without haste Damien drew her even closer, to lie fully against him, his lithe, masculine form imprinting his maleness onto her. She could feel his arousal pulsing against her belly, his lips moving against her hair. A hypnotic languor stole over her, while a slow heat built inexorably between them.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, the question a husky whisper.

She drew a shaky breath. “No

don’t stop.”

His long fingers came back to lie alongside her jaw and slowly turned her face up to his. He meant to kiss her, she knew. She felt a delicious drifting of his warm breath across her parted lips, then the tender caress of his mouth as he coaxed hers open.

He kissed her very slowly, very carefully, a lingering, intimate knowing of her mouth. A vibrant shiver ran through her as his tongue delved inside, drinking deep. The last vestiges of her resistance dwindled at his inflaming kiss.

After a moment his hot mouth slid lower. His lips moved against her throat, his hand lightly caressing her body. Her breathing sharpened painfully when he found the rising swell of her breast; where his fingers touched, her skin seemed to burn.

Sensations of longing and desire surged inside her as her breast nested in his hand. With infinite care, Damien shifted their positions, pressing her onto her back, and bent over her. She started to tense, but then his searing breath touched her nipple, and her own breath turned to warm liquid in her lungs.

His lips traced a halo of kisses edging the aureole, then the rosy center. Instantly, all the fires he had aroused within her earlier again kindled to life, white-hot and urgent. She felt the same brazen, primal need she’d known in the conservatory among the roses.

His tongue glided slowly over a soft crest, and a weak trembling began in her limbs, a feverish yearning. Again his tongue touched the swollen flesh, tasting her, sliding over the distended surface of her nipple, igniting her senses. When his mouth closed around the hard bud with exquisite pressure, Vanessa arched up, wanting his mouth.

He sucked gently, sipping at her, and his erotic attentions drew a moan from her throat. He continued to lave the hard, aching peak, while his questing hand moved downward over her body with deliberate slowness, his fingers caressing her bare skin with soft strokes.

Her body was melting, yet she was unprepared when his hand slid between her shivering thighs to claim the womanly softness of her. She went rigid, pressing her hands against his shoulders in protest.

Damien rose above her, gazing down into her eyes intently. “Trust me, Vanessa. Together we can find where the stars are born.”

“I don’t know if—”

“Hush, angel.” His mouth dipped to touch hers. “Can you not recognize desire when you feel it?”

Slowly he parted her thighs again, his fingers tangling in the dark curls at the portal to her femininity. Her eyes squeezed shut, but she let him continue, not protesting when he began to stroke the soft female cleft, dewy with warmth. She gasped as he discovered the delicate bud hidden there.