Someone Irresistible (25 page)

“You’re beautiful,” he said taking in every feature.

”
That’s
what you should be saying to a woman. Say it again.”

He shook his head. “I want you to tell me what you like.”

Her forehead creased minutely. “What I like about what?”

“In bed. With a man.”

“You’re the devil, Professor Price,” she muttered, eyes shining with daring and amusement.

It warmed him to note that she didn’t take offense, or change the subject. Such encouragement on her part, or what he took as encouragement whether she meant it or not, made him grow bolder.

“Where do you like to be touched?”

Her lids narrowed but she never dropped her gaze. “Everywhere,”

she whispered boldly.

He felt himself growing erect again, which she undoubtedly did as well. “I want to hear you tell me.”

She squirmed on top of him, purposely brushing her hips against his engorged member, stalling.

“Where, Mimi?” he breathed against her jawline, smelling the scent

of flowers on her skin, relishing the feel of her breasts on his chest.

“I like…”

He ran his tongue along her neck. “Where?”

She moaned a little. “On my breasts, my nipples. Carter never did that.”

He stilled his actions and pulled back enough to look at her. “Carter didn’t touch you there?” he asked, surprised.

She shook her head and closed her eyes, whether out of embarrassment or sadness, he couldn’t guess.

“Carter preferred my… um…”

“Parts between your legs?” he finished for her.

She nodded slightly, squeezing herself tightly to him. “But when you kissed me there, pinched me there, it felt… wonderful.” She shuddered.

Nathan felt mightily surprised, and hot all over again. “I liked it, too, Mimi,” he whispered in her ear. “You have stunning breasts.”

She sighed, pressing her hips into him.

“Stunning?”

“Perfect.”

She giggled again. ”
Perfect
?”

“They fit perfectly in my hands,” he said matter-of-factly.

Smiling, she pushed into him again, rubbing her leg up and down the length of his. It was getting to be too much.

“So put them in your hands,” she whispered thickly, taunting him with radiant, impish eyes. It was the only suggestion he needed.

Grasping her tightly, Nathan rolled her over swiftly so that she was once again beneath him. He kissed her mouth gently, then sat up a little, staring at her nude form from head to knees in the glow of lamplight. Placing one leg over hers to hold her still, he began rubbing his palm over her stomach in slow circles, then slowly traced her skin with his fingertips until he reached one of those stunning breasts, cupping it, rotating his palm over her nipple.

She drew a shaky breath, gazing into his eyes. “Perfect.”

My perfect fantasy.

She reached for him, plunging her fingers through his hair, pulling his head to hers, lifting her lips to meet his in a growing display of need.

He leaned into her, matching her kisses breath for breath, each stroke for stroke, probing her mouth with his tongue in a new desire to know, to discover.

He dropped his hand from her breast to her bottom, caressing her, then lifting it toward him to turn her on her side again, facing him, his hips to hers, his erection lying stiff at her belly.

“I can’t…” He kissed her deeply, grabbing her thigh and pulling it so that it covered his. “I can’t take the risk of getting you with child, Mimi,”

he finished in a whisper, knowing she would understand.

She didn’t comment, but he felt the slightest nod as he brushed his lips against hers, back and forth, his thumb stroking her hip bone. He found her breast again with his fingers, pinching delicately, flicking softly with his nails, and that brought a soft moan from her throat.

“Nathan…”

“Touch me,” he whispered, leaving soft pecks to her warm cheeks, her jaw and the hollow of her neck.

She hesitated for only the briefest second, and then she reached between them to place her palm on the tip of him.

The feel of her hand scorched his sensitive skin; he shuddered against her, moaning without discretion, allowing her to timidly explore with her thumb, her fingers, her nails, while he toyed with her breasts, kissed her mouth and neck, ran his tongue along her jaw to her ear, feeling her squirm beside him as her desire increased to match the level of his.

At last her heightened need and the feel of her hand carried him too close to the edge. In one swift motion, he kissed her soundly while grabbing her and pulling her up and onto him again, her breasts flat on his chest, her silky hair spilling onto his shoulders, caressing his neck, her hands coming forward to hold his head.

He stroked her upper lip with his tongue, adjusting her hips so that her mound of curls fit directly over his erection, enveloping it to perfection, smothering him with warm moisture, her thighs on either side of his as she relaxed into his body.

Slowly, he began to move against her, and quickly she matched the action, her breathing fast becoming as erratic as his, her cleft rubbing him faster and faster as she quickly ascended to her crest.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her up a little, to stare into her eyes, those brilliant brown eyes that reflected his passion, and expressed a pure depth of trust in him.

She began to whimper again, over and over, the sound throatier now, her cheeks flushed, breath corning quickly. She clung to his chest and he in turn reached forward and cupped her breasts again, thumbing her nipples, watching her drop her head back and close her eyes to move

faster against him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said quietly, watching her close in on her release, knowing she was almost there, urging her on with each thrust of his hips against hers. “Come for me, Mimi…”

“Oh, Nathan…” she moaned, rotating her head, her glorious hair brushing his knees. “Oh, yes. Oh, yes. Nathan—” And then she cried out, circling her hips hard against him, jerking against his body, stroking him rhythmically as she bathed his hot, engorged penis with wetness that pushed him along with her to the brink.

“Ah, God. Mimi…”

He clenched his teeth together, shoved his head into the pillow, clinging to her as he let himself go.

In a groan of deep satisfaction, he climaxed beneath her, feeling her every exquisite stroke, hearing every sharp whimper of her pleasure, knowing at that precious, timeless moment that a fantasy could never be quite so perfect.

« ^ »

N
athan paced the hard floor of his room at King’s Road Boarding House, hands behind his back, staring at the ugly, frilly wallpaper, trying to control his nervousness. He had roughly six hours until his departure for the hall to reunite him for the first time in years with Richard Owen, and the colleagues who had once laughed at his find, then abandoned him. It would be a night to remember, a night for the history books, and although he knew without question that Mimi’s brilliant sculpture would impress, even shock, the dignitaries and scientists present, he still risked failing once again. This would likely be the most important night of his life.

Yet much of his anxiousness of mind centered on Mimi, which both confused and maddened him, because he ordinarily wouldn’t be thinking of a woman at all at a time like this. She would, by her decision, be here to deliver the sculptured beast momentarily, probably

to keep him from journeying to her home to get it, since it would be out of his way to do so as he left for the banquet this evening, but also because she would be saving him the expense of a hansom cab. That underlying reason injured his pride, but there was nothing he could do at the moment regarding his finances.

It did, however, manage to keep the situation between the Widow Sinclair and himself in proper perspective in some remote, rational area of his mind. Although their night together two weeks ago had been both risky and adventuresome, full of the wonder of discovery, he’d been avoiding her to a certain degree since that incredible event because of what lay ahead. Not only did they come from different worlds, when all was said and done this night, he suspected Mimi’s father to be ruined.

What irritated him most of all—no, what
upset
him most of all—was Mimi’s utter confidence in her father’s innocence. How could she possibly know that with such certainty? Because she blindly loved the man? That was possible, he supposed. But how could she have planned such a seduction and a night of blissful passion if she didn’t care about
him
to some degree? None of it made any sense—unless, Nathan realized with a sinking feeling in his gut, she was more involved with his downfall two and a half years ago, as he’d suspected from the beginning.

It was the only thing he could think of that explained her willingness to help her father’s accuser as she worked to complete Professor Nathan Price’s ultimate destruction by getting him to fall prey to her charms as an enticing woman. Still, even this interpretation did not in any way explain the very real desire he saw in her beautiful eyes the night they finally made love, the very real passion he’d witnessed in her sexual abandonment that he refused to believe was an act.

One thing was clear: he could not allow himself to make any decisions about her until tomorrow, when his name had finally been exonerated, when he at last perceived a bright outlook for his future.

Until then, as much as the memory of her scent and feel and remarkable laughter penetrated his mind and made his body yearn for more, for everything, he could not allow himself to feel.

Suddenly he heard commotion below, then Mrs. Sheffield’s heavy footsteps on the foyer floor. Mimi had arrived.

Quickly he stepped to the door and made his way downstairs before the owner’s wife had to call on him.

“Mrs. Sinclair is waiting for you in the parlor, Professor,” she said brusquely. Then she turned on her heel and marched into the kitchen, making a great spectacle of leaving him and his female guest alone to talk. Nobody else was around, save two of the proprietor’s young daughters setting the dining table for luncheon. Nathan rather doubted,

though, that Mrs. Sheffield herself wouldn’t be eavesdropping if she could find a way to do so. His conversation with Mimi, once again, necessitated discipline.

Proceeding to the parlor entrance, he let his gaze fall first on the large white box, wrapped in a red satin ribbon, placed in the center of the cherry wood tea table. Amused by that, he at last looked at Mimi as she stood next to the window, staring out into the cold and gray late morning, arms crossed in front of her chest, her hair in a coiled braid at her crown, wearing a plain black pelisse over a gown he couldn’t see but which no doubt denoted her status of widowhood. Frankly he tired of seeing her in such dark, drab clothing, but convention came first. It always would.

He took the two steps down into the parlor, and she turned to face the sound, watching him as he appeared before her, her smile firmly planted, but, he noted with uncertainty, never reaching her large, hesitant eyes.

“Mrs. Sinclair,” he drawled, his lips curving up as he took in her figure, outlined only vaguely in her apparel. A shame, that. “How nice of you to call this morning.”

“Professor Price,” she replied primly, holding out her hand to him as he approached. “It’s lovely to see you again. I’ve brought your package to you for the banquet this evening.”

“Thank you,” he said at once, never looking at it, but to her, her soft curves, her bosom fitting so snugly against her pelisse. He knew she realized where his thoughts lay because she blushed then, delicately, her cheeks growing a most becoming shade of pink. But she never lowered her eyes.

He walked to the side of the sofa and grasped her gloved fingers, raising them to his lips, slowly. Then he lowered her hand and lightly squeezed it once before releasing it, sending a clear message of awareness from that one tiny, unnoticeable act.

“Would you care to be seated?” he asked nonchalantly, motioning to the sofa with a flat palm.

“Yes, thank you.”

She sat on the cushion to the right, facing the fireplace, her back to the foyer, and although she never removed her pelisse, she did grab her skirts and pull them toward her in implication that he might sit beside her. He did so, regardless of how unseemly it might look when two chairs in the room remained vacant. He wanted to be close enough for intimate discussion and if anyone did intrude he and Mimi would only appear as two individuals sitting side by side on the small peach sofa.

Perfectly discreet. From here he could already smell her clean, spicy skin, peer into her eyes so close to his own.

Getting comfortable, he leaned away from her a little, crossed his ankle over his knee, and interlocked his fingers over his stomach.

“So,” he began cordially, for Mrs. Sheffield’s benefit, “How was your Christmas?”

“Oh, delightful, thank you,” she replied, her lips tilted in a smile, removing her gloves, which she placed on her lap. “My father and sister and I celebrated with an early morning church service followed by dinner together, as we do each year. And you?”

“My Christmas was very nice as well,” he said. “Mrs. Sheffield prepared a large goose with walnut stuffing for the boarders. Delicious.”

“I’ve no doubt,” she returned. “I’m certain it was excellent.”

“Yes, it was, especially when those of us staying here had been forced by circumstances to be away from family during such a festive time.”

Such staid conversation between them made her suppress a laugh, he could tell, though her eyes sparkled in humor.

“So, do tell, Professor,” she remarked with a heavy exhalation, getting to the point of her visit. “Are you ready for tonight?”

His lids narrowed just minutely over keen eyes; one side of his mouth curled upward. “More than you can possibly imagine. I assume the sculpture is in the box?”

Boldly, apparently aware that nobody gazed on from behind them, that they were essentially alone and hidden by the sofa back, she reached forward and squeezed his knuckles. “It’s my Christmas present to you, Nathan,” she fairly whispered, her expression turned serious.