“It would if Baron Blackbourne says it was.”
“You wouldn’t do that!” she burst out.
“Try me,” he snarled and she reared back, coming to the end of her retreat when her knees hit something soft and solid and she toppled backwards onto the bed.
“Well done, darling,” he drawled.
She started to scramble away, thinking what a fool she was for retreating toward the bed but he swiftly caught her ankle and yanked her effortlessly back across the comforter. She yelped and twirled and then watched as, with a rough jerk, he pulled the towel away at his hips.
“Don’t touch me!” she snapped.
He loomed over her. “When I’m done, I’ll have you begging me, you’ll press your wet, tight –”
“No!” She shoved at him.
It was too late. He was there, he was driven, he was furious and he was going to have exactly what he wanted and there was nothing Julia could do about it.
To her extreme humiliation, she melted within moments of his mouth landing on hers, his hands on her body and his hardness against her. He seemed to be everywhere and her body wanted him, her heart wanted him, it was only her mind that wouldn’t allow her to have him.
And she kissed him back, nipped his shoulder with her teeth and licked away the moisture there. She gasped in his ear and ran her nails up his spine. He left her long enough to tear her underwear down her legs and then he was back, she opened her legs to welcome him and he was gliding inside her. He was fully ready for her and she was long since ready for him.
She arched her back and neck and knew he had won.
But, throughout it all, silently, she was crying.
His mouth took hers again in a brutal kiss while his h*ps pounded into her and she gloried in it at the same time her grief was engulfed by his passion. He tore his lips away and her breath gave a stuttered hitch from the soundless weeping but he didn’t notice. He slid his cheek down hers, slammed his groin into her and her neck arched with delight and despair at the pleasure of just how deep he was.
She wanted to hold him there forever.
It was then his head came up and his body stilled.
She tensed.
“Julia?” His voice was hoarse and as he looked down on her she turned her head to the side in a futile attempt to hide the tears on her face.
His hand came up to her cheek and gently moved her face to look at him. His thumb found the tears that were sliding down the sides of her eyes into her hair. He stroked her there, trailing a wet line of tears down her cheekbone to her lips so she tasted their saltiness.
“Julia,” he muttered, his voice thick.
“It’s okay,” she told him, her voice shaky, her h*ps moving because he was still buried inside her. His body tightened, his muscles stiffening under her hands. “Really, Douglas, it’s okay. You win, for tonight, you win,” she whispered.
His forehead dropped to rest on hers, the length of his nose pressing against hers and he closed his eyes as if he was in pain.
“It doesn’t have to be like this.” He was moving again, gently, sliding in and out with sweet, agonising slowness.
“I bring out the worst in people,” Julia admitted haltingly, “especially men.”
He groaned, low and deep and it sounded like there was pain mixed with his pleasure. He kissed her, not with brutal passion but this time tenderly, a kiss like none she’d had from him before, a kiss that made something bud inside of her, awaken and start to grow.
Then his lips broke away, they trailed down her cheek, her jaw and he buried his face in her neck, the whole time, making gentle love to her.
“What am I going to do with you?” His voice sounded disgruntled in her ear.
“Whatever you want.”
This brought another croaky moan from him, his arms wrapping around her, his hands lifting her h*ps to receive him.
Her neck arched again as her body melted further into his, wrapping itself tightly around him, everywhere.