Magnate by Joanna Shupe (14)

Chapter Fourteen

Panic stole through her. Did he mean to kiss her there?

Before Lizzie had a chance to contemplate all the reasons she found that embarrassing, he dragged his tongue along the seam between her legs, lapping at her, and fire sizzled in every nerve ending. He repeated the action once more, and she nearly crawled out of her skin at the exquisite, sharp pleasure. Then his attention turned to the hard bud at the top of her sex, and she thought she’d lose her mind.

He was relentless, the intensity like nothing she’d imagined. His lips and tongue kept up the steady friction until she couldn’t hold back any longer. The world reduced to that one spot and how he was mastering it so thoroughly. When he sealed his mouth around the nub and sucked—she went over the edge, the crest fierce and undeniable, her legs shaking against his shoulders, her cries echoing in the big room. She shouted freely in this private world, safe from the storm, safe from the rest of the city. Safe from the reality that was their marriage. Here, nothing mattered but the pleasure, and the bliss continued on and on as he worked her. Finally, she grew sensitive and jerked away from his wicked mouth.

His lips met her inner thigh and he kissed her sweetly, almost as if expressing gratitude. Silly, when she was the one who should be grateful.

He moved to her side, propped up on an elbow, and stretched out. A large, rough hand traveled over her hip, swept across her stomach and ribs, glided between her breasts. Surprisingly, he was as out of breath as she.

“Did you enjoy that?” His eyes tracked the path of his hand.

“There are no words,” she answered honestly. “Why did I not know?”

“Because you haven’t been naked with me before.” The arrogance in his voice made her smile.

“Is that so? Allow me to guess: you are the only man in the world with such superlative bedroom skills?”

“Yes, of course. Do not ever consider otherwise.”

She laughed. “You can be quite charming when you want. But I do wonder why I am the only person without clothing in this room.”

He traced a path around her nipple with a fingertip. “You will be sore.”

“But I’m not sore now,” she said, and dragged the flat of her foot over the soft wool covering his calf. He was back to his tightly controlled, enigmatic self, and she much preferred the man who lost his mind with need for her. The one who couldn’t hold back.

She should be nervous, she supposed, since she lay naked on a rug with a man she hardly knew, but she couldn’t manage it. His dark eyes remained focused on her body, as if he had a hard time believing she were real. As if he had to keep a hand on her to prove they were both truly here. And a muscle jumped in his jaw, a sign of struggle that she relished.

He’d lost his vest and necktie at some point and was now in his shirtsleeves, collar, and trousers. Unbelievably, he still had on shoes. Rising up, she reached to unlace his square-toed low boots that were the height of fashion. She slipped each one off his foot, tossing it to the carpet. “Elizabeth,” he said, part warning, part something else that caused her to tingle in newly discovered places.

“Yes, Emmett?” she asked innocently as she shoved his black silk socks down. First one, then the other.

He swallowed hard, his stare fixed on her backside, which she’d unwittingly positioned toward him. Good. She scooted a bit, not turning, so she could unbutton his trousers. The fastenings came undone easily, the striped wool parting in her hands.

“You are playing with fire.” His voice, low and rough, sent a thrill through her.

“Not yet, but I soon will be, I hope.” Shifting, she lowered his suspenders. He rolled onto his back, lifted his hips off the floor, and pushed his trousers down, continuing until he kicked them off. “Now the shirt,” she told him.

In a flash, he dispensed with his shirt collar and shirt, leaving him in a thin, white combination. The tight, one-piece undergarment left little to the imagination. The fabric clung to him, showing off every ripple, every ridge, every bulge. Indeed, every bulge. Her heart skipped in her chest at the sheer masculine beauty of him. The seams struggled to contain his massive shoulders, and dark hair peeked out from the top edge under his collarbone. Her fingers itched to touch and explore, to learn the man underneath.

“Well?”

Her gaze snapped to his face. “Well, what?”

“You seemed to enjoy giving the orders. I was merely awaiting more direction.”

A surge of feminine power coursed through her. “And would you do anything I ask?”

He slipped his hand under his head, causing his bicep muscle to pop. “Unless it involves going outside, yes. Unequivocally.”

“Then kiss me.”

Where had that come from? She had no idea where this brazen self-assurance originated, but he must have approved because he lunged up and found her mouth, kissing her deeply. Confidently. As if he knew how much she craved him.

“Not on the floor,” he said against her mouth. In one fluid motion, he lifted her and stood, then carried her to the immense sofa, a piece of furniture definitely designed for a man his size. Wide and long, the sofa, covered in soft brown velvet, tickled her bare skin as he laid her down. He followed, giving her his weight in the most intimate and delicious of ways, with his cotton-covered erection hot and urgent against her thigh.

She wrapped her arms around him, and he slid a large thigh between her legs and took her mouth once more. He didn’t touch her, merely kissed her until she writhed and clawed beneath him, a mindless mass of blinding desire. Just as she started to beg, his hand drifted between her legs where he expertly stroked the heart of her. Her nails plunged into his shoulders when he pushed a finger inside her warm, wet channel, stretching her, and that digit soon turned into two. He pumped his hand a few times, readying her, and she rocked into the heel of his palm, needing more. Needing everything he could give her.

Needing him.

Her fingers flew to the buttons of his combination, tearing at it in her haste. Buttons popped in her desperation to feel his skin against hers, and finally she was able to get the garment open and over his shoulders. He slipped one arm out and then the other, and together they shoved the cloth down his torso, over his hips. Rough, blazing skin touched hers, the soft hair along his belly, chest, and legs dragging on her flesh to make her shiver. His fingers returned to her sex, pleasuring until her eyes nearly rolled up in her head.

She drew back to breathe. “Please, Emmett.”

“Touch me,” he ordered, gently biting along the column of her throat. “I need to feel your hands on me.”

Her fingers found his chest, where she trailed over the taut muscles and stark ridges of his ribs. Learned the contours of his abdomen, the angles of his hip bones. Then she wrapped her hand around the velvety length, lightly grasping the heavy weight of his erection. He gave a sharp intake of breath as she tested the smooth skin, ran her thumb around the plump head.

“Harder,” he murmured into her neck. “You won’t hurt me.” As if to encourage her, he curled his fingers deep inside her and hit a spot that caused her to cry out. She retaliated by tightening her grip on him, stroking roughly. He groaned against her skin.

His hand withdrew, leaving her empty, until he mounted her, fit their hips together, and slowly began entering her. “Tell me if it hurts,” he rasped. “I swear, I’ll stop.”

“I’m fine. Hurry, Emmett.”

But he did not hurry. Instead he took his time, as if savoring the experience. He sank inside carefully, demanding surrender, overtaking her, until he’d fully seated himself. She wrapped around his frame, gathering him close as he started to move, pelvis driving, both giving and receiving pleasure. He would not be rushed, long, unfaltering strokes driving her higher, sweat running down his temple, his skin turning damp. Just when she was sure another minute of the exquisite torture would drive her mad, he reached between their bodies and touched her, the pad of his finger causing the pleasure to explode. Her release went on and on, her hands holding him, his name a chant on her lips.

He rose to grip her hips as he sped up, sweaty skin slapping together in the otherwise silent room. Muscles clenching, he threw his head back and shouted, movements stuttering as he poured himself inside her. She marveled at the sheer power and strength of him, the unrestrained masculinity.

He collapsed on top of her. His head dropped into the curve of her throat, while Lizzie’s arms came around his neck. They caught their breath, his body still joined with hers. A warm feeling of contentment washed over her, a sense of rightness. This was the man, the one she’d imagined would cherish her, protect her, yet allow her to chase her own dreams. True, he hadn’t wanted to marry her—but that was in the past. They were married now, and perhaps they were far better suited than she could have hoped. As Emmett had said, many couples began with much less. Not everyone had this attraction, this all-consuming desire the two of them shared.

Who said that could not evolve into something more over the years?

The point was, she wanted to try with this man. No one else. No one else had risen so far with so little. Provided for his brother and taken in his half sisters, raised them. And certainly no other man had ever affected her this deeply. Every time she considered the annulment, her chest ached. Leaving would be difficult; lying in a court of law would be impossible.

The only thing left was to give him the truth. “I have changed my mind about the annulment.”

* * *

Emmett froze, certain he had misunderstood. Before he could question her, however, he had to deal with practicalities. Withdrawing from the warm grip of her passage, he came to his feet and went to fetch another cloth. He heard Elizabeth gasp as he walked away and immediately cursed his forgetfulness. Shit.

“Emmett, your back. Dear God.” Revulsion? Horror? Pity? He couldn’t quite pinpoint what he heard in her voice, but continued on to the washroom.

While waiting for the water to warm up, he cleaned himself off as best he could with the freezing stream from the tap. When he had a cloth ready for Elizabeth, he strode back to the sofa. She had curled up on her side, like a kitten, her gray eyes missing nothing as he traveled the floor. Sitting at her hip, he rolled her until he could gently clean between her legs. The flesh of her sex was red and swollen, and guilt shot through him. He should not have taken her a second time, no matter how much they’d both wanted it.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked.

The pins holding her hair had come loose, her blond locks now falling around her shoulders. He swept a long strand off her smooth forehead. She was so beautiful, so perfect. He’d done nothing in life to deserve having this woman by his side every day, but he’d be damned if he’d give her up now. “I was thinking that you’ll be sore tomorrow, and I was regretting that we will have to wait.”

Her mouth kicked up at the edges. “I’ve always been a quick healer.”

“Is that so? I guess we’ll have to see then, won’t we?” He bent to place a quick kiss on her lips. “Let me build up the stove so you stay warm. I don’t plan on letting you put clothes on yet.”

He returned the cloth to the sink and came out to add more coal to the stove. Elizabeth used the water closet, and he took a moment to appreciate her lithe, naked form as she traversed his office. Unashamed, she winked at him on her way back to the sofa.

Once the fire had been properly stoked, he grabbed the blankets he’d purchased from the tavern and carried them over. He slid in behind her so she’d be closer to the coal stove and covered them both with the heavy wool. She turned toward him on her side, and her head found its way onto his arm, using him as a pillow, while her hand caressed his chest.

“Your back,” she said quietly. “Was that the accident you told me about?”

“Yes.” Nothing more to say on that subject. The tissue had healed in long, jagged white scars. An ugly reminder of his struggle out of the gutter, not one he cared to think on if he could avoid it.

Elizabeth seemed to understand, nodding. The fact that she was still here, even after learning a tiny portion of his sordid past, seemed an incredible gift. One he intended not to squander.

“So the annulment,” he asked. “You’ve changed your mind?”

“Yes, I have. Unless you think we should still go through with a separation.”

“I was against the damned thing in the first place, Elizabeth.” He slid his palm over her hip and around to cup her buttock. Squeezed. “I am curious as to what changed your mind, though.”

“It wasn’t that, in case you were wondering.”

“That, meaning my bedding you?”

“Yes. I wanted the annulment because my brother blackmailed you into marrying me. Besides being humiliated, I was convinced we would make each other miserable.”

“The humiliation is mine, Elizabeth. I should’ve known better than to engage in any impropriety with you that night. But I’ve always struggled with keeping my hands to myself around you.”

She tilted her head to kiss his jaw. “And I am glad of it. As you said, many married couples begin with less. I’ve always wanted a marriage like the one my parents supposedly had, with love and laughter.”

Emmett blinked. He knew when faced with insurmountable odds, and this was damn close. Love? Laughter? Jesus, his parents had fought like sailors and hit each other—and that had been on the good days. What did he know of a happy marriage? “Well, I am not sure that’s—”

“Don’t. Just because you did not have the same growing up doesn’t mean you do not deserve it now.”

Had he been so transparent? “How are you so certain?”

“Because you are not your father, and I am not your mother. I’m not going to leave, Emmett. I’m going to stick it out, and so are you.”

He squeezed her backside once more. “Bossy, aren’t you?”

“I can be, yes. But you want a woman who can stand up to you, who isn’t afraid of you.”

How did she know that when he was only coming to realize it himself? “You are definitely not afraid to shout at me. My ears are still ringing from ten minutes ago when I used my fingers to—”

She pinched his shoulder playfully. “Emmett!”

He kissed her nose, her cheek. She was soft and smelled like lavender combined with their lovemaking, an intoxicating combination. “Laughter, Elizabeth. Don’t forget the laughter.”

She smiled at him and something tripped in his chest, expanding. He’d never experienced anything so powerful. Then she yawned, and a quick glance at the mantel clock told him it was well after midnight. “Turn around and try to sleep.”

She rolled over and pressed her round buttocks into his groin as he covered her from behind. He felt his cock stir and tried to think of the most boring, inane things he could in order to deflate his lust. Transit prices. Upcoming quarterly dividends. What he would do with the information Elizabeth had uncovered about Northeast Railroad. Anything but his wife’s luscious, very naked body against him.

“The papers mentioned how you were seeing a . . . woman,” she said. “And I know you haven’t been sleeping at home. . . .”

Emmett remained silent, and she twisted to shoot him an expectant look. “Well?”

His lips twitched, but she appeared so serious he hated to laugh. “Just ask, Elizabeth.”

An elbow dug into his ribs, a sign of her impatience. “Are you still seeing her?”

“No. Not since the engagement was announced, and we hadn’t seen each other in the way you’re thinking of since before even that.” His fingers trailed up her thigh. “And if you elbow me once more, you’ll be answering to me, Mrs. Cavanaugh.”

She giggled, a sound he was rapidly coming to love. Quiet descended, and he felt himself sliding toward sleep until she asked, “Why do you call me Elizabeth instead of Lizzie, like everyone else?”

Idly, he stroked her hip, and the truth unexpectedly tumbled out of his mouth. “It’s a noble name, for a queen. A conqueror. ‘Elizabeth’ sounds like a woman strong enough to change history, to chart any course she chooses. Anyone could be a Lizzie—but only you could be Elizabeth.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “That’s . . .” She exhaled, long and slow. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

He pressed his lips to the back of her head. “Go to sleep, Elizabeth.”

* * *

Unbelievably, the snow continued the next day.

On the storm’s second morning, Lizzie sipped some water and looked out at the city she loved, now covered in white. The snowdrifts stretched to the second floor of most buildings, the streets still impossible to traverse. As Emmett had predicted, ice and wind had toppled the telegraph and telephone poles, and the electricity had yet to come back on.

Indeed, with so much wrong, how could she be this happy?

The door to the water closet opened, and she turned to watch her naked, freshly shaved husband emerge. Her breath lodged in her throat. Oh, yes. This would be the reason for her jubilant mood.

Impossibly wide shoulders, lean hips, muscles shifting under tanned skin as he moved . . . She would never tire of looking at him. He walked with confidence. Purpose. As if he owned all of New York—which, she supposed, he quite nearly did. The man might have started with nothing in life, but he’d taken all he’d wanted and more, making him both feared and respected.

Today, he’d awoken first, left her sleeping under the blankets on the sofa to begin his morning ritual. She’d missed waking up next to him. Missed feeling all that strength and power under her fingertips.

A knowing smirk on his face, he slipped his arms around her blanketed shoulders and pulled her back into the cradle of his chest. He rested his chin on top of her head as they watched the blur of falling flakes through the windows. “Beautiful,” he said softly.

“It is, isn’t it? All that white snow.”

“Yes, that, too.”

She smiled. “Are you charming me again, Mr. Cavanaugh?”

“I only tell the truth, Mrs. Cavanaugh,” he replied, and she could see his devilish grin in the reflection of the pane. “And why the blanket? You aren’t turning shy, are you?”

“Merely cold,” she lied. Nakedness had been easier in the dark, even if Emmett hadn’t given her a reason to be self-conscious. She’d never been unclothed with a man before. People of her class never talked about marital relations, but she’d envisioned something civilized, undertaken with the lights firmly off. Lovemaking with Emmett was not anything like that. Raw, earthy, and wild, their encounters were better than any of her youthful daydreams.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Well rested. Hungry.” Then she added, “Not sore, in case you were wondering.”

He huffed a tiny laugh, the great expanse of his chest billowing behind her. “Of course I was wondering. I am a man in the presence of my incredibly appealing wife, after all.”

His palms wound under the blanket until he found her breasts, cupped them. He applied pressure, plumping the soft mounds, and then squeezed her nipples. Desire streaked down her spine, and her head fell back on his shoulder as her lids fluttered shut. Rolling the taut peaks in his fingers, he pressed his now-evident erection into her backside and whispered in her ear, “Shall I pleasure you right here? When anyone stranded in one of these surrounding buildings could be watching?”

She gasped, both shocked and titillated by the idea. Still, there were practical matters to deal with first. She twisted out of his grip. “As soon as I wash up.” Gaze firmly averted from his aroused nakedness, she went to the small room at the far end to start her morning preparations.

When she emerged several minutes later, Emmett was busy setting out food for their breakfast. He’d pulled on trousers, but remained bare above the waist, thank goodness. Her husband was a sight to behold.

“I went ahead and set up the food,” he said as she approached. “I realize this is a far cry from what you normally have in the morning.”

Growing up, she’d enjoyed hot coffee, eggs, ham, buttered rolls, anything she’d wanted for breakfast. The Sloane cook had prepared whatever Lizzie had craved each day. But that luxury paled compared to the simple fare that her husband had braved a storm to retrieve. Would she ever be able to eat salami again without thinking of him? Or recalling the weight of his body as he surged inside her?

He glanced up, his dark eyes studying her. “Are you blushing?”

“Of course not. I’m married. Married women do not blush.”

“That experienced, are you?” He smirked. “Would you care for another wager, this time to see if I can make you blush?”

She pulled the blanket tighter and lowered to the carpet. “Need I remind you who won our last wager?”

“There are two things at which I excel. And they both begin with f. The first is finance, and the second is f—”

“Emmett!” Lizzie laughed, her skin flaming.

“—orging steel.” His brows rose in exaggerated innocence. “Why, Elizabeth, what did you think I was about to say?”

No chance she would say that particular word. “Fine. You succeeded in embarrassing me.”

Though her face was hot, her insides fluttered at his teasing. Who was this playful stranger? Where was the cold, remote man she’d married? She liked this side of Emmett Cavanaugh, a side she guessed not many ever saw.

“And here I thought Knickerbocker ladies didn’t know that word.” He popped a piece of the cured meat in his mouth and chewed. “You continue to amaze me.”

His praise generated more fluttering. There were deep emotions beginning to surface, somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. They unnerved her. Yes, he was her husband, but she’d never experienced this rush of tenderness toward a man before. The sensation caused her to feel both weak and powerful, and she needed time to examine the possibilities. To weigh the benefits and risks for the future. To ensure she was not the only one invested in this marriage.

She reached for the bread, and the two of them ate in silence for a few moments. “Do you believe the snow will keep up?”

“Hard to say.” His gaze transferred to the window. “I haven’t ever seen a storm like this before. You must be anxious to return home, to a soft bed and warm bath.”

“Not at all. I am enjoying myself,” she answered honestly, which caused his brows to snap together. Worried she’d given too much away, she added lightly, “Though even a cold bath would appeal at this point.”

“If we run out of coal, that might be easier than you think.”

She sat up straighter. “Is that a possibility?”

“Not a chance. Don’t worry, the cellar is full of coal. We won’t freeze. Though we may have to find more food if the storm goes on any longer than tomorrow.”

Though the dancing light in his eyes gave him away, she bumped his hip with her foot, saying haughtily. “Are you implying that I am eating too much? It’s rude to comment on a lady’s appetite. We are delicate creatures.”

“Delicate?” He snorted. “I should have known you were trouble the minute you argued with me in my office over backing your investment firm.”

“Which you did not want to do, as I recall.”

“Even I have moments of stupidity. Surely you know that by now.”

“I am going to make you a lot of money,” she said, dusting the crumbs off her hands.

“Us. You are going to make us a lot of money. Now, are you finished eating or would you care for more?”

“I am finished. Shall we clean up?”

He reached out and snagged the end of her blanket, slowly pulling the fabric toward him. “Not just yet. I’d like to borrow your blanket first.”

The cloth was disappearing from her naked body, so she clutched the edges tighter. “Wait, why do you need it?”

“I don’t. I need you, actually. Naked, so that I may taste my favorite part of you for breakfast.”