frostily down the long length of his nose. ‘In that case I see little reason to celebrate.’ He drew in a deep breath. ‘Please tell me that you have never— Assure me that none of those gentlemen have ever—’
‘No,’ Mariah assured him hastily, the warmth deepening in her cheeks.
Those green eyes narrowed. ‘None of them?’
Mariah’s jaw tightened. ‘No.’
‘There is a God, after all!’ he rasped with feeling as he took hold of her arm, the candle in his other hand lighting their way as they began walking down the hallway to their bedchambers.
Mariah eyed him quizzically. ‘I fail to see why it should matter to you one way or the other.’
‘It matters!’ he ground out between clenched teeth.
‘As I said, I do not see why. This, what is supposed to be between the two of us, is merely play—’ The breath was knocked from Mariah’s lungs as she suddenly found herself thrust up against the wall, the candle placed on a small side table as an ominous-looking Wolfingham towered over her. He had placed his hands on the wall either side of her head, making her a prisoner of both his encircling arms and the lean and muscled strength of his body. ‘Darian...?’ She looked up at him uncertainly between long, thick lashes.
Darian was breathing deeply, in an effort to retain his control. He had already been enraged, just at the thought of Mariah having ever been intimate with any of the other men present this weekend—he refused to think of any of those men again as ever being gentlemen! But being dismissed by Mariah, as if he were of no more importance to her, that he was no better than any of them, was beyond endurance.
His nostrils flared as he looked down at her between hooded lids, his senses aflame, flooded, filled, with both the sight of her and the increasing smell of that insidious and arousing perfume.
Her eyes were a deep and drowning turquoise, her skin creamy smooth, with that becoming blush to her cheeks. Her parted lips were so plump and tempting! The bareness of her shoulders made him ache to touch them, the hollows of her throat begging further investigation, with his lips and tongue. And her breasts moved, swelled enticingly beneath that thin lace barrier, as she breathed shallowly.
And all the time Darian gazed down at her hungrily, the very air about them seeming to have stilled, the intensity of that erotic perfume having deepened and swelled, engulfing him, enslaving him and threatening to destroy his last shreds of resistance.
Why had her perfume deepened now? How was it possible?
‘Mariah, do you stroke your perfume across and between your breasts and between your thighs?’ he prompted gruffly.
‘Darian!’ she gasped breathlessly.
‘Do you?’ he pressed raggedly.
‘I— Yes. Yes!’ she confirmed achingly.
And telling Darian that, for the perfume to have become stronger, Mariah’s body heat must have deepened, and so increasing the perfume escaping from those secret, hot places.
He closed his eyes briefly, hoping it might aid him in holding on to his fast-slipping control. But closing his eyes only intensified his sensitivity to her perfume. He slowly opened half-raised lids, his heated gaze immediately homing in on the soft pout of Mariah’s parted lips. Lips he had been longing to taste again since she climbed into his carriage earlier today.
An ache he found he could no longer resist as he held her gaze with his own, his arms on the wall beside her keeping his body from touching hers, as he slowly lowered his head to run his lips lightly across her slightly parted ones.
They were soft and hesitant beneath his own, tasting of sweetmeats and brandy as he ran his tongue gently along and between them, running lightly across the ridge of her teeth, stroking along the moist length of her own tongue, before retreating to start the caress all over again, their ragged breathing becoming hot and humid between them.
Mariah had never been kissed so gently before, so slowly and so erotically, her pulse leaping, and her heart beating loudly beneath breasts that had become swollen and sensitised, just the gentle brush of that lace across them causing her nipples to harden and ache as they became engorged and swollen almost to the point of pain. Just as she was aware of a similar swelling, heat, between her thighs.
Her neck arched as Darian’s lips now travelled across her cheek, teeth nibbling her earlobe before moving lower still. Her hands moved out to grasp Darian’s shoulders as she felt his lips against her throat, gently sucking on that flesh, tongue lathing moistly to ease the pain before moving lower still, the brush of that hot and moist tongue now dipping into the deep and sensitive hollows at the base of her arched throat.
‘Darian!’ Mariah was so beset with new and unfamiliar emotions that she had no idea whether her gasp was one of protest for him to stop, or a plea for him to continue.
The response and heat of her body felt so strange to her. Not an unpleasant strange—far from it! She had never felt such pleasure before, or this deep and yearning ache she had to press closer against Darian’s body, to rub herself against him, in an effort—a plea—to find relief for this hot and burning need, both in her breasts and between her thighs.
She groaned low in her throat, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her as Darian’s lips and stroking tongue now explored the tops of her creamy breasts. Sighing her pleasure as she at last felt the heavy weight of Darian’s thighs against her own as he leant inwards to prevent her fall, allowing her to feel his own long and engorged arousal pressed against her softness—and giving instant lie to his earlier claim!
Mariah should have felt trapped, should have felt awash with the usual panic she suffered whenever a man attempted to touch or kiss her. That need she always felt to escape. To free herself.
And yet she felt none of that with Darian, wanted only to press herself closer still, to rub herself over and against him, anything to be able to somehow alleviate the burning ache in her breasts and between her thighs.
‘Darian!’ Mariah gave a helpless gasp as she felt the moist stroke of his tongue across her bared nipple, the first indication she had that he had pulled down that delicate lace barrier and bared her breasts.
That stroke of his tongue was quickly followed by the hot and deliberate brush of his breath over the sensitised tip. The stroking of his tongue again, followed by that soft breath, her nipple standing erect and begging for more as he moved to lavish that same attention to its twin.
It was pleasure like nothing Mariah had ever known before, had never guessed existed.
‘After you for a taste, if you don’t mind, Wolfingham?’
Mariah had frozen at the first sound of that intrusive voice. She now turned her head quickly, her gaze stricken as she saw Lord Richard Nichols standing just feet away down the hallway, his face flushed with arousal, eyes fevered as he gazed unabashedly at Mariah’s completely bared breasts.
That fevered gaze remained fixed lasciviously on her bared breasts as he took a step forward. ‘I’ve long wanted a taste of this particular beauty.’
Mariah was barely aware of Wolfingham moving, aware only of the loss of his heat pressed against her as he strode ominously down the hallway towards the other man, allowing her time to pull the lace quickly back
