TheCharmer (32 page)

"Liar," she growled. Then she flipped them both neatly, him atop her. "You were ever easy to toss," she said huskily. She kissed him, her mouth hot and giving, her supple body writhing beneath his. "I want your mouth on me," she ordered. "I want your hands on me. Now."

"Rose—" He was the stupidest man alive, to be turning down such a goddess. He flipped her above him once more. "I want to talk to you." He didn't want to hold back anymore. He needed to tell her how much he loved her.

She backed off of him and stood, her chin high in challenge. "All right then, blueblood." She stood with her feet apart in readiness stance… which was quite a sight when she was nearly naked. Her shirt clung to her lithe body as she moved, and the sinuous muscles of her thighs flexed. Very distracting.

"Throw me."

He jerked his gaze away from where the soft linen outlined the vee of her thighs. "What?"

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Double-damn dare you," she said huskily.

Well, then. He had no choice at all, did he? They could talk later.

He stood and crossed slowly to her, tugging off his shirt as he did so. Her gaze slid over his body like hot hands, and his erection pulsed in response. He raised one hand in a slow arc, as if he were trying to move through water, or molasses. Her eyes narrowed in appreciation of his tactic, and she responded to his move with matching slowness.

Their battle became a dance, one of slow, sliding moves and sensuous, embracing holds. Hot skin to hot skin, she pulled him close. Instead of being rolled over her shoulder, he turned to press against her back, with his good arm crooked over her throat, his hand thrust into her hair.

She pressed against him for an instant, her head falling back onto his shoulder. His lips found her neck for a single long moment before she arced away from him again. With the grace of a long-legged bird, she kicked one foot high. Rather than striking him, she merely rested her bare foot on his chest for an instant, then rolled backward in a controlled flip that proved there was nothing at all beneath that shirt.

He followed her with a spinning low kick that tripped her gently into his arms. They fell together onto the carpet.

Altogether more satisfactory. Kurt had always stressed the importance of good floor work. Their bodies rolled like one being, erotically wrestling the last of their clothing free. Rose's shirt landed on the floor and was lost in the sensuous scuffle. Collis's trousers met a similar fate behind a chair.

Finally, he had her just where he wanted her. He lay flat on his back, pinned by her shapely knees on either side of his head. With both hands, he carefully cupped her bare bottom, pressing her forward for his kiss. His tongue slipped inside her, caressing the very center of her desire. He flicked, then stroked, then circled her in an ever-varying ride of ecstasy.

Gasping, breathless, Rose allowed the pleasurable shocks to roll through her undenied. There was no point in pretending that she did not feel what she felt, no worth in hiding her passionate response. She did remember to press one hand over her own mouth when she peaked, some scrap of sanity recalling that they were still in Etheridge House.

At last she collapsed upon him, falling back onto his chest and hard stomach. He untangled her weakened legs for her and caught her neatly when she rolled from him. "Where do you think you are going?"

"To the bed?"

"Pantywaist. Will there be beds on every mission?"

Rose giggled at the perfect mimicry. The remark was classic Kurt, only Rose didn't think she'd ever heard Kurt speak on this particular topic.

"Yes, sir," she said with mocking respect. "The floor it is, sir."

He pulled her down to him until she lay atop him, nose to nose, toes to toes… but for the fact that her toes dangled somewhat closer to his ankles. She stroked her toes down his manly, hairy ankles. She'd never thought to admire a man's ankles before, probably because she'd rarely seen any, but she had to admit that Collis's ankles were as perfect as the rest of him. She rolled her head to take a bite at his stone-hard bicep. "You are too perfect," she murmured.

He laughed, a low rumble deep in his throat. "Is that possible?"

"It is if you are you and I am me."

She hadn't meant anything by the comment, but something angry flashed behind his laughing eyes. He pulled her higher and bit her lightly on the chin. "You are perfectly you, Briar Rose Lacey, and I wouldn't have you any other way."

Too serious. Rose tossed him a challenging grin designed to change the mood. "Well, speak for yourself. I would have you—" She rolled him over her with a well-placed tug. His legs fell between hers, and she spread them willingly. "This way."

God, a willing, passionate Rose beneath him on the carpet, the firelight shining on her fine skin, her hair a tossed skein of dark silk across the floor. Her thighs came up to wrap about his waist with authority, and the rest of his poetic thoughts faded at the feel of her moist center pressing urgently to his erection. His brain slowed, with only dark and animal thoughts allowed.

Hot. Wet. Woman.

His woman.

Now.

Her throat arched and her head fell back as he took her hard. Each thrust rippled up her supple body as he watched her take him fully again and again. Then his vision glazed as the pleasure took him over. She was all around him, her arms and legs trapping him, her soft, tight dampness owning him. He was hers entirely and she was his.

They thrust wildly together, two strong and bestial creatures locked in the growing darkness as the fire died, as the room cooled, and finally the candle burned out. In full darkness at last, Rose allowed her soul to be entirely free. She came to him hard, repeatedly, without restraint, until he had to cover her mouth with his own to contain her raw cries of ecstasy. At last he growled deeply into her neck as he took his own satisfaction with a last forceful thrust that tore a husky gasp from her weary throat.

He collapsed beside and upon her, and she relished his warm weight. She felt his heart pounding against hers, as if they were two more caged beasts fighting to get to each other.

But no. His heart was not for her.

She felt him reach high, then felt the warmth of the counterpane fall over them in a careless drape. He sighed and his body eased with sleep. With the last of her strength, she wrapped her arms about her lover, her charmer, her prince… and fell asleep holding him.

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Rose opened her eyes to stare at her lover through sleepy eyes. Collis was stretched out on his stomach on the carpet beside her—minus any sort of covers. Hmm. She appeared to have taken complete possession of the bed linens. With a small, rueful laugh, she pulled the counterpane over his naked body.

Of course, she did it very slowly, for the view in the last glow of the coals was quite astonishing. His long, delightfully hairy, muscular legs were covered first. Then that magnificent rear. He shifted, moving toward the warmth, causing her to pause for a moment to admire the rippling muscles in his buttocks.

In truth, she'd always wanted a room with a view. Although currently, the rest of the view had a good many livid bruises in sight.

He mumbled and moved again, seeking the heat of her body. She kissed his air-cooled shoulder in apology, then covered him completely. He relaxed once more, going still.

It seemed she had some things to learn about sleeping with a lover.

Lover.

She'd come to him yesterday evening out of a need to see that he was recovering from his beating at Louis's hands, and to decide whether to tell him the truth of his parentage… and to say good-bye to any future they might have had together.

She'd found herself completely unable to talk to him. She had felt as though the secrets were simply piling up within her, choking off her words.

She couldn't bear to tell him the truth about Louis. She couldn't risk seeing that awful disdain rising against her again. From the Liars, it would devastate her. From Collis—she shuddered.
No
. That bit of the past was best kept buried. Besides, there was no need to tell anyone now. Louis need never even know she, Rose Lacey, had aught to do with his fall.

Collis being the Prince's bastard… that was going to require some thought. If she wasn't so sure that Collis would hate every moment of royal heirdom—as he now hated being heir to Etheridge— she would tell him immediately. She had no family, no parents living. It was a lonely existence. Collis had one who was mightily fond of him. He should be told he still had a father, shouldn't he? She still couldn't decide.

As for saying good-bye—that hadn't gone precisely as planned. She'd quite suddenly lost all resolve when faced with her actual Collis, although she had tried to keep her intent light and uninvolved. As happy as she was that he wanted her and that she had healed him of his fears of insufficiency, she dreaded the eventual breakage of her heart. Surely the pain would worsen the more nights they spent together.

She ought to go now, before he awoke. Perhaps if she kept from him for a few days—or years—or possibly decades—she would be able to save her even-now fracturing heart. Moving carefully, she began to slide from under the counterpane. She found her shirt and pulled it over her head, then bent to reach for her trousers where they lay next to Collis.

Even before opening his eyes, Collis moved like a striking snake. His sleepy mind was only aware of one thing. He wasn't letting her go. Ever.

He caught her hand to pull her to him. She resisted. Abruptly he gentled his approach. With tenderness, he twined his fingers through hers and brought her hand to his lips. "Stay," he whispered into her palm. He brought their twined hands to his brow as if to ease a pain there. "I need you."

His eyes were filled with a warmth that Rose could not resist. She moved an inch closer, then another. He simply waited, holding her hand lightly to his cheek, until she came close enough to kiss.

"Well," she said, as she pulled away and gave him a look of mock frustration. "Are you going to make love to me or not?"

Collis knew she was running away from the moment and he let her. She was still too shy of moments of real emotion, he reminded himself. He only hoped that keeping her in his bed would make her forget what she was running from long enough for him to secure her heart.

So he smiled and tugged on her hand. "Are you trying to seduce me, Briar Rose?"

She smiled, obvious in her relief at his tacit agreement to let the moment go. "How does one seduce the Mighty Tremayne?" She put her other hand in his and pulled him to his feet. "Do I merely need to trip you and fall on you?"

"That will just about do," he said airily, and pulled her into his arms. If he could not speak his need, then he would show it.

Rose greatly feared that she was making the mistake of her life, but she could not leave him tonight. Tomorrow, she would explain… if she could. This night was her gift, and in the years to come, she hoped, her solace.

When he reached for the hem of the shirt she wore, she raised her arms to allow him to pull it over her head. He tugged it as high as her wrists, then gave it a small twist, tying her playfully. It was a useless bondage, for she could free herself with a tug, but she allowed it. The feeling of being vulnerable before him in her nakedness sent small darts of heat through her belly. Collis was her friend as well as lover. She would trust him with her life. She knew she'd come to no harm in his little game.

She let her hands drop behind her head and stood before him like an offering.

He raised a brow, his expression amused but his gaze hot. "I like you like that."

"I'll wager you do." She gave him a sultry look. "But careful, I'm an excellent kicker."

He smiled slightly and trailed a finger over her collarbone. "Methinks the lady wants her ankles tied, too."

"Methinks the gentleman had best shut up and get busy."

"Is that so?" His large warm hands covered her hips and he bent to take her nipple into his mouth. She sucked in her breath at the sweet pain/pleasure as he allowed his teeth to gently bite. She didn't even realize he was maneuvering her backward step-by-step until her back encountered the cool wood of the bedpost.

With his hands pinning her there and her own hands restrained, she had no choice but to allow him to delicately torture her breasts and nipples with pleasure. Her knees were still weak from their first bout. Now they went to water as he made free with his imaginative mouth. She grabbed the slick wood of the bedpost with what little grip she could manage through the wound shirt fabric, just to keep from sliding down it to the floor. Her cleft swelled with wanting until she could feel her very heartbeat throb within it. He caressed her not at all but simply held her hips to the post and drove her mad with lips, tongue, and teeth. He brought his knee to press between her thighs lightly, teasingly, not nearly firmly enough—

She was going mad. The wanting was so good, but it went on until her entire body quivered for release. He was tenderly merciless, and she forgot all about that easy tug to free her hands. The control was his to serve, as ecstasy was his to give.