She never wanted him to stop, but when eventually he did, disappointment flooded her. His lips only moved to her cheek, though. The warm mist of his breath caressed her temple while his hand cradled her throat.
“Sweet Venetia…” he murmured, his voice husky and edged with desire.
His thumb stroked the softness of her collarbone before gliding lower. She hadn’t worn a chemise, for the straps would have shown beneath her revealing gown, and her corset pushed up her breasts from below.
When his knuckles skimmed over the exposed swells, then slipped down below her bodice to brush her nipple, her breath spiraled away from her. His fingers plucked gently before pulling the velvet down, sending another hot ripple of weakness surging through her. When he cradled one breast in his palm, Venetia whimpered at the feverish surge of pleasure that sensuous caress engendered.
At the soft sound, he kissed her arched throat, then drew back to stare at her. His eyes had grown darker, and she was caught by the hypnotizing heat in the blue depths. Desire shimmered between them, filling the air.
His perusal followed the line of her throat to her bare breasts, his expression intent, powerful, and oh so admiring. She couldn’t prevent the shameful tingling of her breasts or the insistent quivering between her thighs.
Her heart thudded harder. She was achingly aware of the soft seduction in those stunning eyes, the play of lamplight on his features, the way the golden blush of the flame gilded his hair….
He bent his head, his lips feathering over her flesh with exquisite pressure till he captured the pouting crest. Venetia gasped at the bright flare of sensation as his tongue circled the areola, laving the taut bud.
Helplessly she raised her hands to slide them into the thick, silky strands of his hair. A tremor shook her. She felt overwhelmed with sensation as his practiced fingers aided his mouth, encouraging her response, coaxing her. When he tasted her other nipple in turn, fire streaked through her, creating an intense yearning inside.
Surrendering, Venetia arched her back against his wicked caress. The brazen need that coiled inside her became a wild, insistent throbbing in her blood. Her breathing was ragged and out of control.
He went on arousing her, teasing the furled bud with his velvet-rough tongue, suckling gently with his warm mouth. A moan escaped her lips at his tantalizing devil’s sorcery.
Devil…sorcery…seduction…
What in heaven’s name was she doing reveling here in a dimly lit bedchamber with this utterly beguiling hedonist?
With desperate strength, she began to resist the searing pleasure he ignited in her, the powerful urges in her body. She was half sprawled over
him, though, which put her at an extreme disadvantage.
With one hand, she groped for the reticule on her lap and finally managed to loosen the strings. Pushing the opening wider, she felt blindly for the handle of her knife in its leather case. Forcibly then, she struggled to push herself up, and in one shaky motion, unsheathed the blade and held it to his throat.
Traherne froze, then blinked at her. His features were heavy and drugged, but the sensuality faded as understanding dawned.
Then amazingly, he chuckled, dismissing the deadly blade at his throat as if it were nothing more than a child’s threat.
“Don’t force me to hurt you, my lord,” she warned in a hoarse voice.
He pressed his forehead against hers and gave another ragged laugh, as if straining for willpower, then caught her wrist and pushed aside the knife.
“You have already hurt me, love. This is twice tonight that you have left me aching.”
There was an unmistakable spark of humor in his voice as he glanced down at his satin breeches and the large bulge there that proclaimed his male arousal.
Venetia lowered her head to follow his gaze, but he lifted her chin with the curve of a forefinger, compelling her to look at his face.
“Never mind. I achieved my objective.”
It was Venetia’s turn to blink, hers at the tender, amused light in his eyes. Her head was still swimming with the intense sensation of being held in his arms, subjected to his magical kisses, and her dreamlike state had left her weak and unfocused. Thus, it took her a moment to comprehend what he had said.
“What do you mean? What objective?”
“I disarmed you.”
“I still hold my knife.”
“But I have taken away your leverage. You don’t want your sister to know you have been kissing me. Now you will have to tell her, and what will she say?”
Her gaze narrowed. “That was your intent all along—to prevent me from exposing you to my sister.”