Chapter Nineteen

At Ian’s words, and the hungry look in his eyes, Grace felt a shiver of anticipation travel down her spine. She also felt trepidation. She was aware of their indecent position, her nightgown bunched to her thighs, and her husband on his knees between them.

Her husband.

Oh, God.

He was tempting as sin. She wanted him to kiss her. Wanted desperately to feel his heat, wanted to explore his muscled chest with her fingers.

What had she said? She didn’t want him in her bed.

Liar.

She wanted him desperately. But intimacy would not change the fact that he’d lied or that he intended to keep his gambling hall. She’d agreed to a tour. On his arm as his wife. She should be horrified, but after studying his books for hours, a part of her was wildly curious. It was nothing like the books she’d kept for the milliner—as different as the earth from the stars—and it stirred her interest.

Then there was the man himself. His attractiveness was devastating.

He kissed her lips, her cheek, then made his way to the delicate shell of her ear. He nipped on the sensitive flesh, and she let out a held-in breath. It felt so good.

“Sweet Grace. Do you have any idea how badly I want to make love to you?”

Oh my. Did he have any idea how badly she wanted him to? Her curiosity was replaced with a deep yearning.

“It’s true. I came home to spend a wedding night with my bride. But what I found was infinitely more fascinating. You at my desk invading my ledgers. Rather than be angry, I found myself drawn to you as I’ve never been to another. Your intelligence is like an aphrodisiac.”

It was as if he knew exactly what to say. A poet’s words would have no effect on her, but being called intelligent was something she could not easily resist.

Did she want to resist him?

Nothing about Ian was as it seemed. Her heart squeezed in her chest. She’d learned much about him tonight through the club’s ledgers. The tiny figures spoke to her much more than a person’s words or actions. He worked hard. Very hard. He didn’t gamble himself but donated a lion’s share of his profits to the needy.

“I’ll never look at my chair the same again without picturing you here. Now. Like this.” He nipped her lips and kissed her fiercely. She allowed herself the freedom to kiss him back and was rewarded when he sucked her plump bottom lip into his mouth. Desire coursed through her.

He swiftly stood and lifted her out of the chair, then sat and placed her on his lap.

“Oh!” she cried out, clutching his neck.

“I can touch you more this way.”

With only her thin nightgown and his clothing, she could feel him beneath her. He was hot. She never realized how hot he could be.

His lips touched her nape. Overcome by sensations, any protest died on her lips. His lips caressed her cheek to the lobe of her ear, soft and sensitive. He licked and nipped and she shivered. All the while, his hands explored the soft lines of her waist, her hips. She turned to meet his kiss, and their mouths ravaged each other’s. Why couldn’t she stop kissing him?

Then his hand touched her breast through the thin cotton, and she nearly swooned. The rosy peaks grew to pebble hardness as his thumb circled her nipple. She gasped as pleasure hummed through her veins.

He tugged the garment low and one breast was revealed to his dark gaze. Cool evening air caressed her skin. “Lovely,” he murmured.

Then he lowered his head and suckled her bare nipple. Threads of fire ran from the tip of her captured breast and plunged downward into her belly, then moved even lower. Instinctively, her body arched toward him. She wanted his attention on her other breast, and he obliged by sliding the gown off her shoulders, down her arms, until she was bare to the waist. He lavished his attention on both breasts, and her fingers slid into his thick hair. For the first time, she understood the devastating pull of attraction of a skilled lover.

This is not something she could fight, not something she wanted to. She knew then that she would be with him tonight. Tomorrow would be another day. But here…now…she did not want to resist him. She wanted to experience all of him.

Her need grew and she shifted on his lap.

He groaned and held her hips still. “Stop, love. I won’t be able to control myself.”

She experienced a thrill that she could make him lose control. A sense of power.

His fingers trailed up her leg until they reached the triangle of hair that shielded her womanhood. He touched her, his fingers skillfully exploring her intimate folds as he kissed her. All the while his other hand cupped her breast, teased her nipple. He was everywhere at once. Overwhelming…magnificent…and she had no doubt he could fulfill the mounting need spiraling inside her.

Then he touched her there.

She moaned in surprise.

“Ah, love. You’re wet for me.”

She looked down at him as her body awakened to what she so desperately wanted him to give her. She lay limp in his lap, her legs dangling over the side of the chair as he played and toyed with her body until she was quivering in need.

He dipped a finger inside her, then ran his thumb across her slick folds. Her head fell back, and she gave in to the intense pleasure. Her body felt as if it was half ice and half flame. He kissed her taut nipples as she panted and reached higher and higher, then she peaked and the pleasure was pure and explosive.

She cracked open her eyes to find him staring at her, a look of intense male satisfaction on his face.

“I’ve wanted to touch you like this from the first moment I saw you.”

Truly?

“Tell me you want me, Grace.”

“What?”

“Tell me,” he said. “I need to hear you say it. That you want me to touch you. To make love to you. I would never force you, but you have to say it. Here. Now.”

Deep in the recesses of her mind, she knew what he was asking. He wanted her complete capitulation, her consent. Even satiated, she wanted more. She wanted him. This was much more than just a physical pull, but an emotional one, creating a yearning so strong and deep she was powerless to resist him. She was honest enough to acknowledge her desire. She wanted to become one, to be with him. To finally experience the man who had captivated her the first time she’d seen him. As soon as she gave herself permission, her body and heart melted into him in sweet surrender.

“Yes, Ian. I want you.”

He groaned. “I will be gentle.”

She trusted him not to physically hurt her. In that, her faith had never wavered.

He stood, lifted her garment over her head, and tossed it to the carpet. His sharp intake of breath made her conscious. Candlelight flickered over her naked body. She’d never been so exposed to another. He’d run a den of iniquity for a decade. Surely, he’d been with other women. How would she compare?

“You’re perfect.”

Her heart turned over in her chest. She felt perfect. At this moment. For him.

She would not think of tomorrow.

He was quick to shed his cravat and waistcoat. When he reached to pull his shirt over his head and toss it on the carpet, revealing a long, sinewed chest, all muscles and hollows, her breath stalled. He was superbly built. He reminded her of a marble statue of a Greek God she’d seen in a museum.

She watched, breathing through parted lips, as his fingers went to the falls of his trousers. His fingers worked the buttons, one at a time, then pulled the trousers low on his hips, then removed them entirely. His cock sprang free, bold and forceful, from a nest of black hair.

Sweet Lord.

She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Oh. I had no idea.”

“Touch me.”

She wanted to, desperately wanted to, but she didn’t know if she could. “Show me how.”

His hand covered hers, and she was fascinated by the heat and length and softness. He was long, thick, and hard, but the smooth crown was velvet soft. His deep-seated groan encouraged her, and she ran her finger down the length, then twirled it across the head.

“My God, Grace,” he hissed.

“You’re very big. I don’t know if we can fit together.”

His laugh was hoarse. “We can.”

He picked her up and carried her from the desk to the sofa across from one of the mahogany bookshelves and gently lowered her. The soft velvet felt decadent against her skin. She raised her arms and Ian joined her. She gasped at the feel of skin against skin. When his fingers trailed down her stomach to touch her most private center, her eye lids fluttered closed. The sensations were overwhelming, drawing her to him.

He kissed his way down her body and stopped at her navel. “One day, I want to kiss you here.”

Could a man do that to a woman? Could she do that to him?

He rose above her and she felt his hardness pressing at her woman’s center. She wanted him, wanted this. He eased in an inch, and she marveled at the fullness. She arched up.

“Easy.”

Easy? She didn’t want easy. Her body was crying out for fulfillment.

“I don’t want to hurt you too much your first time.”

He moved slowly, entering her with steady, deepening thrusts. All the while he watched her, his face fierce with desire and restraint. Her body softened as it became accustomed to the fullness. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to take all of him.

“God, you feel so good…so tight,” he said.

His words heightened her pleasure, and she arched her hips toward him.

“That’s it, sweet. Take me deeper.” Then he plunged forward until he was fully imbedded inside her. The pain was sharp and burning and she gasped.

He held himself rigid above her, the muscles in his arms and chest taut. “Are you all right?”

She wasn’t sure. He was large, stretching and possessing. She tried to wiggle.

“Don’t move, love,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Then he eased out halfway, and her lungs filled with air. He slowly pressed forward until he was imbedded deep, then tenderly kissed her forehead, her eyes, her lips. “Is it better?”

“A bit. Kissing helps.”

He captured her lips and kissed her deeply and thoroughly. Then he slid his hand between their bodies to caress her. A bright flare of desire returned, and her senses reawakened. She stirred beneath him, her muscles contracting, and moaned deep in her throat.

He began to move slowly. With each slick stroke, she breathed in deep, soul-drenching drafts as the pleasure built. She began to meet his thrusts, eager to reach the peak of ecstasy he’d shown her. Soon, her response matched his and their sweat-slicked bodies moved together. She raised her leg and wrapped it around him. Their bodies were in a frenzy of need, and each time he buried himself hard, he withdrew in hot, sliding friction that made her body melt against his. It was ecstasy, pure bliss, and her nails raked his back. Never had she imagined it could be this way between them.

“Now you’re truly mine,” he rasped in her ear.

Mine.

His possessive words fueled her desire and more…something infinitely more cataclysmic. And in that instant, she knew she loved him.

She loved him.

She bit back the words.

Dangerous, treacherous words. It was too soon for such fierce emotion. Not when he had lied to her. Not when she was so uncertain about their future.

He was everywhere. Filling her. Yet she possessed a raw power that she’d never known. He took her to heights and she arched her back and cried out in bliss as she peaked. He thrust twice more, tensed, and she saw a vulnerability in his face a moment before he cried out and spilled his seed inside her.

He lay upon her but held himself up with his arms so as not to crush her. He shifted and lifted her onto his body.

She rested her hands on his shoulders and her face on his chest as her breathing slowed. She slipped a leg between his. He stroked her hair, lulling her to relax against his warm flesh, and she yawned. It had been an exhausting day, her wedding, then a late night reading ledgers, then an even later evening in her husband’s embrace.

In the haven of his embrace, her eyes closed and she slept.

…

Ian held Grace in his arms as she dozed. She slept peacefully, like an angel. Dark curls brushed across his chest and shoulder. He reached for a tendril and inhaled her scent. Instantly, his body stirred in response.

His cunning plan to return home and gently seduce his wife into his arms had backfired. Hell, she’d seduced him the moment he’d spotted her dressed in nothing but a thin cotton shift at his desk. She’d drawn him with her keen intelligence and business savvy. He’d never lost his control so thoroughly with another woman or felt this vulnerable.

In his arrogance, he’d believed that once he’d possessed her, the crazed need inside him would ease and she would realize her attempt to keep him from her bed would be fruitless. He was now the besotted one. She stirred in her sleep, and her lush buttocks pressed against his hardness. The need hadn’t eased but ratcheted. He wanted her again.

He hadn’t lied to her when he’d said he’d admired her. Baron Newbury didn’t care about his daughter or young son. Whether it was because he couldn’t cope with his wife’s death or because he was a selfish pleasure-seeker, the result was the same. He’d depleted the household coffers including Grace’s dowry and left her in an unimaginable position. The one man who should have protected her above all others—her father—had left her to fend for herself.

Among such a cold household, Ian was amazed that Grace had found a way to survive. She’d used her intelligence to do the unthinkable: she’d secretly gained employment and worked to better the lives of everyone depending on her, the household staff, Adam, even the baron.

Ian may not have wanted to marry, but now that he had, he realized Grace was perfect for him. Except for one dilemma.

The Raven Club.

He could never sell his casino. She knew some of the story, but not all. He hoped he could show her how the place wasn’t a den of hell, perhaps change her perspective.

Could he show her what it meant? Could she understand?

She turned in her sleep to face him, her lips brushing against his chest. Lust shot through him, strong and hard, and he wanted to sink into her welcoming heat again and again. His jaw tightened. He may not have wanted to marry, but now that he’d experienced Grace, he wasn’t willing to let her go.