Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,67
a slave to passion, she had lost control, moaning and twisting beneath him, her dignity abandoned in the heedless need to couple with him, to appease the hungers of the flesh.
“Don’t,” he growled.
Tilting her head against his collarbone, she regarded him warily. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t retreat into that prim, prudish lady. Tonight, she doesn’t exist.” Shouldering open the door, he carried her into his room.
Alicia thrilled to his masterful manner, though a part of her longed for the safe and familiar trappings of pride. “Beast,” she muttered.
“Beauty,” he countered in the seductive tone that raised chills over her skin. “You shan’t escape me tonight.”
His dark promise nestled warmly within her. As he strode across his bedchamber, the background noise grew louder. It sounded curiously like … flowing water?
He carried her through another doorway and into a room bedecked like a grotto with statues tucked among the ferns and pillars. Candles flickered in niches, adding a subtle glow to the scene, and water poured from a wall spout shaped like a dolphin’s mouth. As the liquid cascaded musically into a circular pool, steam rose in a fine mist that dampened her skin.
“A Roman bath?” she said in wonderment. “With piped-in water?”
“For my lady’s pleasure.”
He bore her down the steps and settled her on a shelf carved into the marble below the waterline. Little waves lapped at the undersides of her breasts. Heat enveloped her, relaxing her muscles and soothing the slight ache where he had made them one.
Unashamedly naked, Drake waded toward the spout and shut off the levers that controlled the flow. With a suddenness that startled her, he dove head-first below the surface and emerged at her feet like Neptune rising from the sea. Droplets rolled down his magnificently muscled chest, over his taut midsection, to vanish into the pool, where the surface of the water blurred the most intriguing portion of his anatomy.
Feeling flushed from more than the bath, she looked up to see a cocksure smile on his face. He knew his effect on her, the wretch. But she smiled anyway, beset by a wave of utter happiness. She let her doubts float away on the gently rippling water. She wouldn’t let herself think tonight. She wanted only to bask in his virile presence.
He combed his fingers through his wet hair, the slick strands gleaming like black silk in the candlelight. Then he sat beside her and leaned closer to tuck a few strands back into her drooping chignon. His action held a curious tenderness.
How astonishing to recline naked in a pool with her husband. Her husband. They were truly wed now, their union consummated. Her heart full, she said lightly, “What a marvelously decadent life you lead, Mr. Wilder.”
“What a marvelously decadent life you will lead, too, Mrs. Wilder.”
His gaze held the pledge of more pleasures to come. No wonder young ladies were kept in ignorance of lovemaking, she thought dreamily. If they were to learn of physical joy, they would crave it all the time.
A glint in his eyes, he picked up a cake of soap and lathered his hands. Slowly he massaged her bosom, sliding over slick skin, his thumbs teasing the sensitive peaks until her breasts felt heavy and aching. As longing swelled in her, she braced her palms on the marble seat to keep herself from melting into the pool.
His hands moved lower, washing her belly and thighs with scrupulous care. “How soft and delicate you are,” he mused. “I must have hurt you.”
“No, I’m fine,” she assured him. “Truly I am.”
He raised an eyebrow. “My dearest lady, I took you like a savage. I’ll be gentler next time. Now lie back and relax.”
A droplet of water trickled down his chiseled face. On impulse, she leaned forward and caught it with her tongue. He tasted faintly of salt, and she breathed in his damp, exhilarating scent. “I liked what you did to me,” she said. “I wouldn’t change a moment of it.”
His eyes gleamed a dark mysterious blue against his swarthy skin. “Alicia.”
Then he moved his hand exactly where she wanted it, his gaze holding hers while he aroused her. Soft sounds of enjoyment rose from her throat. She reveled in the lazy stroking of his finger, the slow rise of tension, the warm lapping of water against her breasts. She hadn’t known herself to be a creature of sensuality, or that a woman could feel such delight. In a fever of impatience, she brought her leg over so that she straddled him,