The Art of Taming a Rake (Legendary Lovers 4)

“I have no appetite.”

His grim tone was curt and dismissive, but perversely, a surge of protectiveness and tenderness welled up in Venetia. She wanted very badly to comfort him and ease his sorrow.

“Well then, will you come to bed with me?”

His blue gaze sharpened on her. He considered her invitation for a long moment before he ultimately nodded.

As she took his hand and led Quinn upstairs to his bedchamber, the significance was not lost on Venetia. They would make love in the master’s bed for the first time, almost like husband and wife.

And yet this moment was unlike any other intimacy that had come before. Just now Quinn was not the alluring, seductive lover she had come to know. The firelight sculpting his high cheekbones in shadow exposed something vulnerable and unguarded in his expression that called to her.

His very nearness made her feel safe and cherished, and she wanted him to feel the same way. She needed to hold him, to show him that she cared. She gave no thought to her hope of taming him. This was no time for games. She needed to be there as his friend, his solace.

Silently they undressed each other, not speaking except with touch. Then tenderly Venetia put her hands on either side of his face and pulled his mouth down to hers. Her effort to comfort him, however, failed when he took command.

His passion was hot and insistent, spurring and controlling the rhythm of her breathing. His kiss sought and demanded. Without breaking contact, he scooped her up and carried her to the bed.

A yearning sensation spread in her chest as he laid her down and settled between her thighs. Her breathing sharpened. She felt his heated need, his unsated hunger as he poised above her, on the brink of plunging inside her.

Desire, hot and molten, unfurled in her belly when he slowly began to thrust. Swollen and iron-hard, he filled her, burying himself to the hilt. Then his free hand slid between her thighs, stroking her where they were joined.

At the keen pleasure, Venetia gasped and arched against him. And with that helpless response, his carefulness ended. He turned ravenous, delving into her mouth with gloriously hungry kisses while plumbing her body.

Moaning, Venetia melted under his unexpected assault, loving the fever in his touch, the urgency in his lips. Heat erupted between them, around them. Their joining had never felt so frantic, so essential. Quinn was moving as if a fire raged inside him. He claimed and took and stole her will, his mouth and body possessing hers, fierce and demanding and wildly sweet.

In return, she clung to him, gasping, matching his frenzied movements with abandon. She was beyond needing him. She yearned, she ached. As he drove into her, a cry ripped from her, plaintive and primitive.

Pleasure spiking, she clutched convulsively with her inner muscles, until her entire world exploded in a soul-shattering burst of color.

A heartbeat later, Quinn followed with a savage shuddering, his arms clenching around her until finally he collapsed upon her.

When at last she regained partial use of her senses, Venetia found him splayed over her, breathing harshly. She didn’t mind his weight. Instead, she felt exquisitely possessed.

She was only slightly disappointed when he withdrew and rolled to one side, since he gathered her close against him. She relished the naked heat and strength of him, the feel of his hard body cradling hers. Quinn lay unmoving, his legs entwined with hers, as sated and spent as she.

Venetia sighed contentedly and shut her eyes, her thoughts drifting. Her plan to offer him comfort had transformed unexpectedly to something more profound. Tonight had somehow felt different, a laying bare of intimate feelings between them. Both of them were vulnerable but learning to trust. She smiled softly, assailed by the hazy knowledge that this was how true love felt—

Instantly her smile changed to a frown.

Oh, dear heaven.

She was in love with Quinn.

Venetia went rigid as she tried to make sense of the shocking realization. She heard the hushed crackle of the fire in the hearth, the quiet, even sound of his breathing, yet there was nothing hushed or quiet about the powerful emotion that had gripped her in the throes of lovemaking and still gripped her.

Dismay crept over her. Did Quinn feel even a fraction of the ardor she was feeling in such overwhelming measure?

Cautiously she shifted her head to glance at him. Thankfully, he seemed to be sleeping.

Venetia exhaled slowly, vastly relieved that he hadn’t guessed her secret. She could never confess the full extent of her feelings, either. She couldn’t tell him that he was the most wonderful man she had ever known, or that she had fallen madly in love with him, totally against her will.

Blast her foolish weakness for him. She had warned herself adamantly not to trust Quinn, but her heart hadn’t followed that safe, sensible course. She had tried to protect herself, but now it was far too late. She had exposed herself to an immense amount of pain. If he betrayed her, she would be devastated.

If he betrayed her.

The possibility was less certain than she would have believed even a week ago. Quinn had responded tonight with satisfying fierceness—or rather, his body had responded. At least that was something in her favor. She could take heart in his urgency, couldn’t she?

And she ought not give up hope so readily. Yes, it could be disastrous if she couldn’t persuade him to return her love, but she refused to accept defeat before she had truly put her pursuit to the test.