Ravished by the Rake (Danger and Desire 1)

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sp; ‘Careful? Oh, you mean children.’ She had tried not to think about babies, the ones she would never have because she was not going to wed. And now she would have Alistair’s children. ‘No, I don’t want to be careful either. We’ll tell everyone we want to let Evaline have her day to herself and we’ll be married as soon as we can, if you want.’

‘I want.’ Alistair swept her up off her feet. ‘Now, where’s this bed?’

‘Upstairs.’ Half-breathless, half-inclined to giggle, Dita let herself be carried. Alistair shouldered open the door and laid her on the bed. ‘This is very romantic, my lord.’

‘Something from our novel writing obviously rubbed off,’ Alistair said as he sat on the end of the bed and pulled off his boots. He turned back to her, shrugging off his waistcoat. ‘I’ll take it slowly, Dita, don’t worry. By the pond—I should have been gentler, more careful.’

‘I have been waiting a very long time for you to love me,’ she said, kneeling up to untie his neckcloth and undo the buttons of his shirt. ‘Could we be fast first and then slow, do you think?’

‘I won’t tease you,’ he promised, dragging his shirt over his head. Dita reached out to run her hands over his skin, raking her nails lightly through the dark hair on his chest. She saw the way he tensed as she brushed his nipples, heard the intake of breath as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his trousers and the arrogant swell of his erection and closed her eyes for a moment to let the wave of pleasure and power sweep through her.

Alistair took her mouth, his hands swift and sure on the fastenings of her gown, and she opened her eyes on his closed lids, the sweep of his lashes sooty against his tan, and shivered in delight at the sensation of skin against skin as the simple cotton gown fell around her hips along with her petticoats.

‘Better than in the hut on the beach,’ she murmured as she pulled back to look into his face. ‘Dry and warm and not sticky.’

‘Sticky can be good,’ he said as he pressed her back on the bed, pulled off her chemise and began to lave her nipples with long, wet, lavish strokes of his tongue.

Dita surrendered to his skill and to the sensation. She made no attempt to stifle the moans of pleasure as he began to suck and tease and nibble at the hard, aching knots, his hands cupping and caressing her breasts, lifting them to his hungry mouth. They were alone at the top of her fairytale tower and nothing, now, was going to stop the full consummation of their love.

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to be here, naked, with Alistair, all pretence and misunderstanding stripped away. She felt no shyness when he lifted himself on his braced arms to gaze down at her, nor alarm when he lay back beside her and began to caress her breasts again, then her belly, then the sensitive mound with its tangle of dark curls.

‘Let me look at you,’ he said. ‘We have made love and every time, it seems, there has been no time, or our emotions were getting in the way of knowing each other.’ He slid down the bed and parted her thighs. She opened to him, blushing a little as he touched her there, opening her with gentle fingers. ‘So soft and plump and wet.’

Dita closed her eyes as one finger slid between the folds, exploring intimately. She tightened around him as he eased a second finger into the aching heat, but it was not enough—she wanted him, needed him, there. She tried to say so, twisting, lifting her hips, and he chuckled, a wicked, affectionate sound, and did that thing with his thumb that made her gasp with pleasure.

‘Now, Dita?’

‘Yes.’ He moved up her body, covering her and she wriggled to cradle him, relishing his weight and the sensation of leashed power in the muscles she could feel tense under her spread palms. ‘Now,’ she urged as she felt him nudge against her, large and hard and potent. ‘Oh, now, Alistair.’

‘I love you,’ he said as he moved and she gasped at the sensation, still not used to lovemaking. But the pressure, the fullness, were exciting and she arched against him, wanting more, wanting all of him. He lowered his head to take her mouth and surged and they were one again and she laughed against his lips and felt his smile curve in response.

He was right; there had been so many things wrong when they had made love before—guilt and secrets and anger. Now she could think of nothing but Alistair’s body, hot and strong and relentless, driving into her with a rhythm that was as elemental as the sea and as dangerously exciting. Her nostrils were filled with the scent of his body and the tang of their mutual arousal and her ears were filled with the sound of their breathing, the roar of her blood.

She felt him lift away, his arms braced. It pressed his pelvis tighter into hers, drove him impossibly deep within her and she opened her eyes to see he was watching her, his tiger eyes burning gold with passion. She was so tense it was painful, so tight that she felt she would die of it. ‘Now,’ he said. ‘Let go, Dita’, and everything peaked and then untangled in an explosion of pleasure and she lost herself in it, in him—drowning, yet safe.

Dita woke and found herself hot and sticky and entangled in Alistair’s arms, pressed as tightly against his body as she could be. ‘Mmm,’ she said, eyes closed, kissing damp, smooth skin and working out that it was his shoulder.

‘Awake?’ He lifted the hair away from her face and she wriggled round to smile up at him. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you, too. Which is,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘an extremely satisfactory coincidence.’

‘I think satisfactory may be an understatement,’ Alistair said. He rolled her gently on to her stomach and began to lick his way down her spine. ‘What a very lovely back you have,’ he mumbled, his voice indistinct as he kissed the sensitive dip right at the base. ‘Let us try something very, very slow.’ He slid one hand under her, found the place that gave such exquisite pleasure and began to tease it, his other hand holding her down.

‘Oh, peaches,’ he said, nipping the swell of one buttock with his teeth while she whimpered and writhed. ‘Do you want me to stop?’

‘Yes! No … Oh … no.’

‘Are you hungry?’ Dita said. She had no idea what the time was, but the shadows were lying long across the floor and the breeze from the open window was cooler now.

‘Ravenous,’ Alistair said. He was lying sprawled on his back, one arm flung across his eyes. ‘You have exhausted me, you witch.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Dita rolled over, propped herself up on one elbow and cupped her fingers around the weight of his testicles. ‘Look—you have woken up.’

‘Food, you bad woman,’ Alistair said, and sat up to swing off the bed before she could tease any more. ‘Is there water?’

‘Cold, but I expect that’s no bad thing.’ Dita got off the bed, too, conscious of stiff muscles and a not-unpleasant awareness of her insides. ‘Here, in the dressing room.’