Tonight or Never Page 8

  Of their own accord, his arms came around her like a vise and, without conscious thought, he kissed her back with every ounce of passion he possessed.

  Which was a considerable amount.

  Pressed against him, Chloe moaned against his fiery onslaught. The adversary appeared to be engaged. She tried to prepare herself for the sensual battle that was sure to follow.

  He was hot, wild, and intense. The real John, she acknowledged to herself, exulting in her victory. His burning kisses made her almost mindless.

  He tasted of everything she had imagined and so much more. The full impact of the Viscount Sexton was more than she bargained for!

  Despite his earlier ruminations and firm decision about waiting, John could not seem to stop himself. The instant his mouth claimed hers, he knew this was going to be different. He felt it, tasted it, breathed it down to the core of his being.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized he was behaving in a way completely foreign to his usual nature. He was not the conquering-hero type—he was more the artful seducer. Sophisticated, with a genuine flair for finesse.

  However, it was not the voice of the accomplished rake that rasped hoarsely, "I can't wait to make you mine" in the little shell ear next to his marauding lips.

  Nor was it the voice of a shy, naive girl who shivered and uttered back, "Yes, yes…" while breathlessly capturing his mouth again with her own.

  Chloe's enthusiasm—more than a match for his own raging hunger—propelled John across the room toward the bed.

  In fact, John was so overcome by the experience of having Chloe in his arms that he didn't even realize how unpolished her kisses were. He only knew that her artless response was sending him over the edge, interpreting her bearing as being caused by her own overwhelming excitement, which apparently matched his own.

  In the course of all this, the tip of her sweet tongue began to tease at his mouth. John actually trembled. Oh, Chloe…

  She tasted of the single most compelling thing that would ever appease his longing.

  He groaned, drawing her inside his mouth even as he drew her down onto the bed.

  From that moment on the viscount was lost to rational thought.

  Which was a very good thing—considering what was about to happen to him.

  While John was recklessly kissing her and unbuttoning the placket of her night rail with the expert touch garnered from his countless experiences in doing such tasks with ladies' garments, Chloe valiantly tried to maintain her sensibility.

  In the wake of such a gale, it was not an easy task.

  True, she had wanted John in such a state, had even dreamed of it on many an occasion, but somehow the reality was far different. For one thing, she never realized how… how… un-controlled he could become; for another, she never thought he would immediately make her the same.

  She took a deep breath in an attempt to find her resolve. It was of the utmost importance that she did not lose herself here; she must—had to—remain in control or all would be lost.

  His scorching lips burned a trail down the side of her throat. Against her will, a small sound of pleasure escaped her lips. The utterance seemed to incite him further.

  Perhaps if she ignited him still further, he would hurry even more.

  Yes. That would be best. It was her only hope. She needed to make him as wild as she could while still maintaining her own restraint.

  Her gaze went reassuringly to the nightstand beside the bed, where the porcelain pitcher had been strategically placed. It waited patiently, a sword of Damacles for the unsuspecting viscount.

  Chloe bit her lip. She hoped Grandmere would forgive her; it was one of her favorite pieces.

  Her concerns were interrupted as John's white teeth captured her earlobe with a sexy little tug. The action caused tingles to skirt down her neck and shoulder.

  This was proving much more difficult than she had imagined! What if he swept her away with his lovemaking? Chloe closed her eyes and swallowed.

  That she could not allow. Not this first time.

  Thinking to speed him up, Chloe thrashed beneath him, untying the knot on the sash of his robe. It soon came undone and she tugged the garment off his shoulders, tossing it onto the floor next to the bed.

  When her hands encountered the bare expanse of his backside, Chloe realized she was right. John hadn't worn anything underneath.

  Curiosity getting the better of her, she tried to peer over his shoulder to get a glimpse of the treasures she had uncovered. She had never seen a naked man before, and rumor had it that John was exceptionally well endowed everywhere.

  Unfortunately, she didn't get the chance, for, with her bold act, the man gave a low growl of desire deep in his throat, then immediately yanked her night rail right over her head, coming down upon her full-length.

  The touch of all that Sexton skin was enough to give her pause. The touch of the flat of his hands skimming down her body was enough to leave her breathless.

  This is John. Touching her. Loving her.

  She gasped out his name on a wave of longing.

  "Chloe… Chloe…" he panted brokenly, his hot breath fanning her.

  His powerful thighs wedged tight between her own, and she felt something hard and scorching pressing against her lower belly. The tips of his fingers scored her back, and she knew she would not be able to take much more without surrendering herself completely to the sensual web he seemed determined to weave about her.

  Irrationally, his considerate lovemaking was irritating her. As if she needed any more incentive!

  She was actually shaking with her desire and cursed the fact that she couldn't let herself enjoy it more. God knew after what the scoundrel had put her through, she deserved a little enjoyment!

  But that would have to come later.

  Rogues—she sighed—must be dealt with very delicately, lest they champ at the bit. She purposely rubbed against him, giving what she deemed an appropriate sound for the circumstances.

  John paused for a second to give her a puzzled look, his disheveled golden hair falling across his forehead in an altogether enticing picture.

  Hmm. Perhaps I did sound a tad like a yipping pup. She quickly lowered the tone and tried again.

  It worked. He answered her with his own gravelly moan, his mouth instantly covering her own.

  Despite her feelings for John, her desire, and her resolve, when John began to probe her feminine core gently with the tip of his erection, Chloe had a moment of fear. Sheer determination held it at bay. Barely.

  He must go through with this now, she kept telling herself, trying not to give in to her terror. Now. Now!

  "Now!" she blurted out loud.

  In her inexperience, Chloe had no way of knowing that John was simply testing the waters and was actually planning on a much lengthier bout of loveplay. Hearing her fevered outcry, however, served to excite that notion right out of his head.

  "Yes," he rasped, "yes, sweet, now…"

  He reared back in preparation for his thrust forward.

  Chloe's hand went around the handle of the pitcher.

  He spoke her name, pupils dilated with passion. And stroked.

  Three things happened at once. Chloe screamed; John froze, stunned; A vase crashed over his head.

  Chloe watched him expectantly. The lovely green eyes focused intently on her just before they began to slowly cross.

  "You—" was all he got out before he fell on top of her, unconscious.

  Zounds, he is heavy!

  Pushing him with all her might, she managed to roll the rake half-off her, allowing her to scramble out from beneath him.

  Clutching the bedpost for support, she took two deep breaths to calm her fraying nerves. There wouldn't be much time… the first thing she had to do was clean herself up, then see to the shards of pottery.

  She quickly went about her task, gulping down the faint wave of dizziness that assailed her when she spotted the blood on her thighs. That done
, she checked the bed for any signs of the doomed pitcher.

  Satisfied she had found all the pieces, Chloe began to sift through John's hair, making sure to fluff it up as best she could. Hopefully he wouldn't notice the nugget that had sprung up on the back of his head.

  By the time he woke up, she would be sleeping beside him as if everything were normal. John would think he had fallen asleep after they had finished and have no clear memory of what had transpired just before he was whacked with the vase. Everything would be exactly the way…

  Chloe sat on the edge of the bed, her hand on her forehead. Perhaps she should have thought this one out a little more. What if he remembered? Nonsense. A few kisses, a few cuddles, and he would—

  Two lethal emerald eyes pierced her in their sights.

  Chloe gasped. How could he be awake already? He wasn't supposed to be awake yet!

  She had seen that look on John once before; she had been ten years old and had put itching powder in every pair of breeches he owned. Damnation, he had been in a lather over that one.

  Once he had caught her—climbing right up a tree after her to do it—she hadn't been able to sit for two days.

  By the look of him, he was more furious with her now.

  A strong hand reached across the bed to grab her wrist.

  Chloe screamed and bolted off the bed.

  Naked, hair streaming behind her, she raced through the bedchamber into the sitting room, straight for the door.

  Throwing the heavy oak door open, she bolted out, fleeing as fast as she could down the east wing.

  "Chloeee!" John roared down the hall.

  It was not one of those times when one stopped to think over the situation. Mon Dieu, the man sounded like a raging bull! She would talk to him after he calmed down.

  Which, by the sound of his bellow, would be in about three or four months.

  Chloe never expected John to come after her. Her first clue that he was not far behind was the slapping of his bare feet on the parquet floor as he resolutely chased her.

  Her second clue was the screech of the upstairs maid, who happened to round the corner at the same time with a stack of linens. She was confronted with the new master of the house running buck naked down the hall, bellowing his wife's name.

  Rooted to the spot, the poor maid dropped her load of linens, covering her eyes with her fingers as she caterwauled at the top of her lungs about the heathen ways of rogues.

  The moment his lordship had barreled past, sensibilities notwithstanding, said fingers separated, allowing the woman a substantial peek at the muscular backside. She sighed at the fabulous sight.

  Realizing no one could hear her righteous outrage, she shrugged. Picking up her pile of linens, she continued on down the hall.

  At the maid's screech, Chloe winced. Thank goodness Grandmere had kept this wing relatively free of guests! She skidded into a corner, looking for an avenue of escape.

  She should have remembered that John had an annoying habit of seeing a matter through. Chloe rubbed her backside in remembrance, ducking into a curtained alcove.

  Sights trained on his quarry, John completely ignored the blathering maid. He was too furious to be distracted. Now where is that little termagant?

  His sights went knowingly to the alcove. The curtain in front was quivering slightly. Mmm-hmm.

  He was about to barge his way through the drapery when two violet eyes peeped out to check the area. They widened considerably when realization struck that he was standing right there.

  At the same time, John heard voices coming up the far stairwell. It was probably some late-night guests returning to their chambers. And the lord and his lady were standing in the hall without a stitch of clothing on! He winced as he imagined the rumor mill that would produce.

  He quickly came through the curtain, covering Chloe's mouth with his hand as he backed her into the far corner against the wall.

  "Not a sound," he hissed in her ear.

  She stared at him over the edge of his hand, eyes enormous. The voices outside got closer.

  John leaned into her; his warm, dry skin blanketing her. She felt all of him, the muscles and strength of him, as he held her in place. There was no question that he was seething.

  Anger fairly radiated from him—anger and something else she didn't recognize.

  "I could take you here—right now—against this wall." His deep voice was a mere undertone. "Did you know that, Chloe?"

  She stiffened. The words were not meant to charm; they were meant to give her pause.

  She shook her head, her hair brushing his chest.

  "But then, there are a lot of things you don't know." He spoke very low against the curve of her throat. His free hand slid down her back to cup her derriere, bringing her in close contact with him.

  He was hard and swollen as he pressed their lower bodies together. His manhood throbbed as it skimmed her lower stomach.

  Despite her apprehension, the curious part of Chloe wondered what he looked like. He felt very large and she still hadn't seen…

  He removed his hand from her mouth, seizing her lips in a punishing kiss. She was not used to John kissing her. The Lord of Sex. Her knees buckled.

  His powerful arms held her.

  "Why did you lead me to believe you were not a virgin, Chloe-cat?" He spoke quietly, his lips a hairbreadth from her own.

  The voices were almost upon them now.

  Chloe swallowed. She had hoped his anger was due to her coshing him on the head, not that other thing. She was not having very much luck tonight!

  "You know about that too?" she said in a squeak, disappointed.

  His voice rumbled in her ear, the furious murmurs not at all hidden by the sibilant tones he was forced to use to prevent their discovery. "Do you not listen to those rumors you told me of—that I have been with almost half the women in England?" He exhaled warm breath against her ear. "Of course I knew."

  Chloe wasn't sure she heard him correctly. There was an odd note in his voice. She looked up, trying to see him in the darkened alcove, but could not make out his features.

  "Answer me, Chloe."

  The flat, self-possessed tone alarmed her. However, she noticed that his tender touch was strangely at odds with his vocal demeanor.

  Chloe decided it would be best to tell him the real reason. This reason wasn't the entire truth, but he didn't need to know all of that yet. "B-because you wouldn't have agreed to the plan!"

  "Plan?" Chloe heard the shock in his voice. "Don't tell me you still have that mad notion to—"

  "Was I right?" She quickly interrupted him; she had no intentions of answering that question.

  He hesitated.

  So she was right. "See? I couldn't very well tell you, John; you would have gotten the wrong idea." Her double meaning was lost on him. Which was just as well. She sighed. This was not easy for her.

  The voices faded down the hallway.

  "Even so, if you had simply told me tonight, beforehand, I would have been more… careful with you." Surprisingly, his lips pressed her forehead.

  Tears filled her eyes. His action, meant to comfort, was a blow to her heart. His affectionate concern was as it had always been—that of a family friend. The kiss he placed on her brow was not the passionate act of a husband or lover.

  A tear spilled over the corner of her eye, down her cheek. In the darkened alcove, it splashed on John's hand.

  He felt instant remorse. Chloe rarely cried; he must have hurt her terribly when he took her. "Chloe-cat, I'm so sorry." He encircled her in his arms, hugging her to him.

  His kind action in conjunction with his total misinterpretation of her behavior made her cry all the more. She buried her face into his chest, trying to stem her tears, but failing.

  John wrapped her tighter in his embrace. "Please, sweet, don't…"

  "Just gi-give me a minute, John." Chloe hiccuped.

  He smiled faintly, rubbing his chin on the top of her head. "The tip of your nose
is cold."

  "It is?" She sniffed.

  "Yes, monkey. You must be getting cold—let me take you back to bed." He lifted her in his arms.

  When he exited the curtained alcove, the wall sconces cast a dim light on the woman in his arms. She gazed up at him, violet eyes still moist from her recent tears. Her soft lips were slightly puffy from his kisses, her cheeks lightly flushed from the events of the evening.

  John stared down at her and that something happened to him again.

  He wasn't sure what it was, but he recognized the sensation. It was the same damn thing that had happened to him in their bedroom when she had first kissed him.

  Their eyes met. Everything around them seemed to fade.

  "Let me taste you, Chloe," he whispered.

  She raised her mouth for his taking.

  John covered her lips. A small sound of pleasure rolled in his throat.

  John deepened the kiss, sweeping inside her mouth, drawing on her lips even as he claimed her taste.

  This was definitely the kiss of a husband! Chloe thought.

  She pulled back, staring deeply into his eyes. With her newfound woman's knowledge, she realized he wanted her. Really wanted her.

  He began walking determinedly back to the bedroom.

  During the entire trip, he never once broke eye contact with her.

  Chloe wasn't sure who was more surprised.

  He kicked the door shut.

  From his demeanor, Chloe half expected him to lean her up and take her against the wall the way he had suggested earlier.

  Truth was, John considered it and rejected it. He didn't want her that way. At least not tonight.

  He headed straight to the bed. Lord Sexton knew exactly what he wanted.

  No elaborate positions.

  No impressive techniques.

  Just her. Wrapped around him tight.

  He laid her gently on the bed, carefully fanning her red hair across the pillows. It was exactly as he had envisioned. His heart pounded in his chest. She was so damn beautiful.

  Several thick candles illuminated the room and the bed. His raking glance took in everything about her. He had not really had a chance to observe her at his leisure before. Now he afforded himself the pleasure.