Claiming His Bought Bride Page 12

  She paused outside his door and took a long breath. How would Damon react to this late-night visit? Would he be self-satisfied that she’d come to him? Read more into it than it meant? Leaning her forehead against the door, her body yearning for him, she realized it made no difference how he reacted. She needed him.

  She turned the knob quietly and edged the door open enough to slip through. Damon lay sprawled on the four-poster bed against a pile of pillows, bare chested, with a glass of red wine in one hand and the other arm up behind his head. His eyes were closed but his body was too tense for him to be asleep. A soft light spilled from a lamp, shrouding him in its golden glow and leaving most of the room in shadows.

  At the sharp click as she closed the door, his eyes flashed open. His face was a picture of surprised wonderment. Within moments he’d taken in the scene, put his wine on a side table and was at her side, drawing her tightly against him. Lily trembled with want now he was holding her, now she could feel his body against hers.

  “Thank God,” he whispered into her hair. “I was about two seconds away from knocking on your door.”

  Her breath hitched at the deep rumble of his voice, but she made herself speak, to say it. “Damon, this doesn’t mean—”

  He leaned down, his warm breath caressing her ear as he kept her tightly enfolded against his body. “Shh.”

  “I just had to be in your arms again,” she said, her voice almost a sob. She reached out and twined her hands behind his neck, wanting him closer still. “In your bed.”

  His hands traced a path down her sides, skimming the satin nightdress, curving over her hips. “I know.”

  The familiar melting of her body from the inside out was as potent as it was welcome. Needing to touch him, to taste him, she pressed a kiss to his bare chest and he groaned.

  “Lily, I want you so badly I can barely remember who I am.”

  Slowly, too slowly for her, he lowered his mouth and his lips whispered across hers. Burning for him, she raised herself onto her toes to hurry the kiss, then felt her entire body soften as he granted her request.

  His lips were hungry, confident, moving over hers with such heat that she opened to him and welcomed his tongue, welcomed his teeth on her bottom lip, welcomed whatever he would do. He tasted of sweet wine and passion and she skimmed her hands over the solid muscles of his chest, up over his strong shoulders, along his back.

  Just when her head began to swim, Damon pulled away, leaving them both trying to catch their breath. Their eyes met in silence, and for one moment reason broke through the fog of desire in her mind. Was this wrong? Was she making things between them more complicated? More difficult to walk away from?

  Then he held out his hand and she couldn’t have resisted taking it for all the world. If they had no future, then she’d give herself this gift—one night of memories to sustain her through the nights without him.

  “Come with me,” he said, tugging on her hand. He led her to the side of the bed, reached down for the glass of wine and lifted it to her lips. She sipped as he tilted the glass, and she felt the rich, mellow fluid slide down her throat. Then he held her gaze as he sipped from the same glass. Something about sharing the wine with him made her heart clench, as if the gesture held some deeper meaning.

  He replaced the glass on the side table and smoothly lifted her nightdress over her head. The cold air nipped at her skin, contrasting with the burning heat inside her. Needing him more than air, she reached out.

  “Just let me look at you for a moment,” Damon rasped. He stepped away from her, his eyes feasting on her naked body the way patrons at the gallery might look at a masterpiece.

  Her skin erupted in gooseflesh wherever his eyes rested, and she felt a thrill of power in her own body, felt beautiful in his eyes.

  “You’re the most exquisite thing I’ve seen in my life.” Damon moved closer and she breathed him in—the woody, musky clean scent of him.

  He took her left hand and guided it to the glass of wine, then he dipped her fingers into the bowl before lifting them to his mouth. Two droplets of the deep red wine dripped onto his chest before he caught her fingertips between his lips. He circled them with his tongue, nipping gently then sucking firmly. As if a direct line connected her fingers to her core, a tug of molten heat arrowed its way through her body and she moaned.

  “Damon,” she breathed, her eyes drifting closed.

  “Let me worship your body tonight.”

  Her eyes opened and she saw the promise in his eyes. “Yes. God, yes.”

  The droplets of wine on his chest had run a little, leaving a moist trail down his solid muscles. With barely a thought, she leaned in and ran her tongue along the path, tasting the richness of the wine, mixed with the taste of Damon’s skin. Ambrosia, the food of the gods, could hold no more delight than this. All traces of the wine gone, she moved lower, tasting the skin over the ridges of his abdomen. His breath caught as she nipped, so she did it again.

  His hands cupped her face and he brought her back up to meet his eyes. “Have mercy, sweetheart.”

  He kissed her—soft, slow and mind-blowing—bringing her closer, closer, till their bodies were pressed together. Knees like jelly, she wavered, but he held her tightly and she knew she’d never fall while he held her. How could a relationship between them be so wrong when they felt like this together?

  With one arm supporting her, he reached across to whip the covers from the bed before lifting her and laying her across the crisp cotton sheets. Lily almost cried in bliss, knowing there was nowhere else on earth she’d rather be than in Damon’s bed. Her husband’s bed.

  He parted her thighs and knelt between them. The vision of him leaning over her body, strong and potent, made her pulse spike. But his trousers sitting low on his hips interrupted the picture. “Have you forgotten something?” she whispered.

  A corner of his sensual mouth curved. “If I take them off, I might be tempted to take you too soon. And I want to spend much longer than that here with you.”

  “But I need the feel of you in my hand.” She reached down to caress the hardness straining against his zipper. “Can I touch you?”

  Muscles bunched across his shoulders, his chest tensed, his breathing quickened. But he rasped, “Yes.”

  She undid the buckle on his belt and drew it from the loops of his trousers then let it fall to the floor. A fiery need raced through her and she reached down with both hands to cup him through the fabric again, stroking. He lifted his tense body higher, up onto his toes and fists that rested either side of her shoulders.

  “Lily,” he groaned, then bent his head down, body still held inches above hers, and claimed her mouth.

  This kiss was more greedy than the first, more demanding, more raw. He turned his head, changing the angle, and her hands slid away from his trousers, up his sides to his back, and she was helpless to do more than cling to him.

  With one quick motion, without breaking the kiss, he rolled, bringing her on top of him, holding her firm against his body. The full-length contact was what she’d been craving since she’d left her bedroom, and now that she had it, a soft sigh escaped her lips. She moved, rubbing her breasts across the coarse hair of his chest, rubbing her hips against his despite the fabric in their way.

  She reached for the zipper, but he caught her wrist.

  “Before you slipped through my door tonight,” he said, breathing hard from their kiss, “I was lying here, thinking of the things I wanted to do to you. Like this, for example.” With hands gripping her sides, he lifted her torso high, arching her back, then he captured the peak of one breast in his hot mouth. He gently abraded with his teeth as he pulled with his lips, and sparks shot out from her nerve endings, flooding her body until she was limp and would have fallen but for his strong hands holding her in the air.

  “Damon, I’m not sure how much longer I can stand that.” She squeezed the words out as she reached to run hands through his thick dark hair.

  “Then
I’ll stop,” he said easily. Too easily. With barely time for her to catch her breath, he found the peak of her other breast and began the same sweet torture.

  She bucked her hips against his, mindless, and heard his groan. He rolled them again, so she lay beneath him and he pinned her to the bed.

  Looking up into his ice-blue eyes, now darker with desire, she felt her heart swell with the love for him she normally kept leashed. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and her throat felt thick. “Damon, whatever else happens, I want you to know this is real between us. This connection we have is real and precious to me.”

  He kissed her tenderly. “It’s precious to me, too.”

  He reached for the wine and, gently wrapping his arm behind her shoulders, lifted so she could sip from the glass he placed against her lips. Then, eyes locked on hers, he sipped as well. Her heart almost stopped beating with the power of the gesture; it was as if they’d toasted the importance, the honesty of their connection. He might never love her, but this was almost as good. Almost.

  Damon reared back from her and allowed three, then four droplets of wine to fall into her belly button. With her skin sensitized, each droplet made her gasp.

  He replaced the glass on the side table, then edged down the bed, to lick the wine from her stomach. “Making love to you has always been best when it’s a little messy,” he said with a lazy grin.

  A delicious shiver ran down her spine as memories crowded into her mind, competing with the current sensations. “I remember the picnic at that secluded spot near the falls.”

  “Mango slices, dripping juice,” he added as his hands trailed down along her thighs, before splaying them over her hips.

  “I thought I’d pass out from the intensity that day,” she whispered.

  His smooth moist tongue explored farther across her slightly rounded belly, before he paused and laid a tender kiss on her abdomen. Then he moved lower still, and when his tongue plunged in the most intimate of kisses, she cried out his name.

  She writhed below him, but his hands trapped her hips firmly, keeping her in place. Her muscles were melting, her bones—everything—dissolving. The only reality that remained was his mouth and its rhythmic movements. Nothing else existed. His hands slid up to her breasts to gently flick the peaks, and she truly broke free of the world, crying his name, racing higher, until she imploded and floated in a place where nothing existed beyond Damon and the way he made her body come alive.

  Vaguely she felt him move to her side and pull her into an embrace that felt like home. After timeless moments she opened her eyes to find him staring at her, a puzzled line on his forehead.

  She snuggled closer. “Why the frown?”

  He absently stroked her side. “I’m trying to work out why every time we make love, it’s better than the time before. Why I’ve never had enough. I always need you more.”

  A discussion of their marriage was the last thing she needed now. Or philosophizing on how her decision to come here tonight would impact on their future.

  So instead she kept it light. “I think some things are beyond explaining.” And she reached for his trousers. This time he let her unzip him and push the trousers and boxers to his ankles before he maneuvered them off to fall on the floor.

  She reached to cup him again, the way she had through the fabric, but this time there was no barrier. She stroked with one hand, whisper soft, then bent to kiss the hardness.

  “Lily.” The word was wrenched from his throat. “You’ll kill me, you know that?” He pulled her up for a quick, hard kiss, then edged off the bed to stand before her, and her heart missed a beat at the sight of his masculine beauty.

  He held out his hands, but she hesitated. She’d wanted this, had come to his room in the dead of night for this, but now the culmination of her fantasy was here, she wanted to delay it. Couldn’t bear it to end.

  “Take my hand, sweetheart,” he said softly, and smiled into her eyes.

  Without another thought she reached for his outstretched hands and he pulled her to her feet, lifting her high against him until her toes no longer touched the ground and all thoughts fled. She wrapped her legs around his waist, buried her hands in his hair.

  In a haze of passion, she draped him with her body, her fingers curling and unfurling in his hair. She could feel his heart beating powerfully against her chest, his hands shifting her hips to increase the pleasure for them both.

  He lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, the slide of skin on skin as he brought her to straddle him sending shivers up her spine. Then he lifted her again, and brought her down onto him. She felt herself expand to embrace him, rocked a little to fully appreciate the sensation.

  “You said this was real and precious, Lily?” He moved in her and her breath caught. “It’s more than that. It’s everything.”

  Not wanting to confirm his meaning, she said against his mouth, “Just keep going.” He shifted his hips, rocked them both higher, and she gasped.

  “Lily, this is right,” he said, an edge of torment in his voice. He raked his hands down her back, then wrapped them tightly around her, increasing the friction against her breasts as he moved higher in her. “We belong together.”

  A single tear slid down her cheek. He was right. The sensations he created in her were so beautiful, how could she have thought she could live without this? Everything else would work out. It had to.

  “Yes,” she whispered into his ear. “This is right.”

  Something like a growl rumbled in his chest and he moved faster, higher. She reached out to brace one hand on a corner bedpost, the other hand woven in his hair, her eyes locked on Damon’s.

  As the power built inside her, she bit down on her lip, trying to hold on, to extend this moment of perfection as long as she could. Her grip on the post tightened, her whole body thrummed until she flew high enough to join the stars and she let go of the post and everything else, feeling Damon convulse and follow her out into the cosmos.

  Nine

  L ily woke in her husband’s light-filled bedroom, a sleepy smile easing across her face. She stretched and reached for Damon.

  The sheets were cold where his body had lain during the night. Sitting up, she looked for him, listened for sounds of the shower from the en suite, but there was nothing. A familiar ache touched her chest, but she ignored it. She’d been the one to slip into his room last night. Had gone willingly to his bed with no expectations beyond the pleasure they could bring each other. He had a right to his own movements this morning.

  From the corner of her eye she saw a slip of paper on his pillow and reached for it.

  “Sweetheart, I have to go into the office, but I’ll be home as soon as I can. D”

  Lily smiled ruefully at herself. Of course he’d gone to work. She should have predicted it.

  She found her nightdress and quickly made her way down the hall to her own bedroom. During her shower, flashes of the night before filled her senses. The feel of Damon’s hands on her body. The taste of his skin. The sound he made deep in his throat when he found release.

  She shut off the faucet and, mind still pleasurably full of Damon, she toweled off and pulled on clothes. As she slipped on her sandals the phone rang, jolting her from the memories. She debated leaving it for Thomas, but since she was standing beside her room’s extension, she picked up.

  A thin, nervous voice asked, “Mrs. Blakely?”

  “Good morning, Mr. Crawford.”

  “Oh, good. I’m glad you’re home. I’ve discovered some rather disturbing information and wondered if I could call around to talk to you about it.”

  Her pulse spiked. Disturbing information were two words she didn’t want to hear from her lawyer. “I’d rather you told me now.”

  “The thing is, I’m unsure of how much you already know. It’s of a delicate nature.”

  Frowning, Lily leaned back onto the bedpost. Now the disturbing news was delicate, as well. “All I know is what you and Travis have told me.�
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  Crawford cleared his throat. “Perhaps you should sit down.”

  “Please, just tell me.”

  He took a deep breath and hesitated before continuing. “As Travis Blakely’s executor, I’ve been looking into his holdings before passing them on. It seems there were many things he didn’t share with me or his other attorneys.”

  Her nails curled into her palms as she sank onto the bed. “What did you find?”

  “Travis Blakely was not in possession of the assets that he willed to you.”

  Not in possession of the assets. The words reverberated in her head and she pressed a hand to her chest, attempting to quell her racing heart. “The house? The money?”

  “He had nothing,” Crawford said sympathetically, as if attempting to soften the blow. “Worse than nothing—the estate owes money in missed payments on loans.”

  A quick rush of panic rose to encircle her throat. “He left me a debt? I’m in debt!” Her voice sounded unnaturally high in her ears. She’d lost her independence. Her security. Her baby’s security. She dropped her head into her free hand and focused on keeping her lungs breathing while all her plans dissolved into thin air.

  “There’s more.”

  Her head jerked up as adrenaline surged through her bloodstream. More? What more could there possibly be? She straightened and braced herself for worse. “Go on.”

  “The assets and holdings that Travis Blakely thought he owned were acquired by various companies. I’ve only been able to follow the complicated trail on some of them so far, and those lead back to one person. I suspect once I’ve traced the others back they’ll end up at the same person as well.”

  Her heart clenched tight and she knew. “Damon.” As she said his name aloud, acknowledged what she knew to be true, her stomach fell away.

  Crawford coughed nervously. “He really hasn’t told you any of this?”

  Not a word. She gripped the bedpost as her head began to spin. Not even a hint. She swallowed and waited until her throat relaxed enough to speak. “What do we do from here?”