Chapter 14

This kiss wasn’t like the first time, when he thought she was someone else. Nor was it like last night, when he had kissed her with a gentleness that had bordered on familial. No, this kiss was hard, and hot, and full of some desperate emotion she could not begin to name but that she wanted more of. So much more of.

His hands dove into her hair, pulling pins from it. Imogen could vaguely hear them hit the floor over the rushing in her ears. Her hair tumbled free, the great heavy mass falling like a wave down her back. He ran his hands through it even as his lips tore free from hers and moved to the column of her throat. She gave a shuddering breath, her eyes closing as she was bombarded with sensation. She arched her neck, her entire body thrumming and alive.

“Your hair is glorious,” he said against her skin. “You are glorious. Every bit of you. I don’t know why I fought it for so long.”

Fought what? she wanted to ask. But then his lips moved down, over her collarbone, to the mounds of her breasts pushed up over the neckline of her gown, and her brain simply stopped working. She gasped, straining toward him as his lips and tongue played over her flesh.

He growled when he reached the fabric of the dress. Immediately his fingers were at the stomacher, fumbling at the material as he searched for access to her.

“How the hell did our ancestors manage to get these blasted things undone?” he muttered against her skin.

Imogen gave a breathless laugh. Without a second thought she began working at the clothing. Between the two of them they managed to get the gown, corset, and hoops undone. And then she was standing before him in just a thin shift, her hair free down her back.

She couldn’t feel ashamed or shy. No, this was Caleb, and she loved him.

His eyes were hungry as they raked her body. He gave a tortured groan and stepped closer. She reached for him, beyond caring that this went against every one of Society’s rules, that after tonight she would be ruined beyond saving. Never before had something felt so right and pure and…good.

Her hands gripped the soft thickness of his hair as his lips claimed her own. She sighed into his mouth at the intimacy of the embrace. Now she could feel him, the thin material of her chemise doing nothing to hide the hardness of his aroused body against her own. He reached down, grasping her bottom, and she could feel the insistent length of him pressing against her belly.

But it still wasn’t enough, she realized hazily as his mouth devoured her own. There was a tension, an ache building inside her, and she knew she had to feel more of him, to see more of him.

Her hands took on a life of their own, working at his cravat, loosening the material and tossing it aside, moving to the buttons of his coat, his waistcoat, his shirt. His hands left her body long enough to shrug from his clothing, his mouth lifting from her own only as he pulled his shirt over his head. And then he hauled her back against him, and her hands were on his skin, that same smooth skin she had so longed to touch at the pond just days ago. Now she took her time, delighting in the way it bunched and flexed under her questing fingers. He felt hot, and tense, and absolutely wonderful.

He moved her further into the room, and soon something pressed against the backs of her legs. Her world momentarily tilted as he lowered her to the bed, the softness of it embracing her like a lover. He left her lying amid the blankets and pillows. She felt bereft without him, chilled.

But a moment later he was back at her feet, and to her shock she could see every lovely bare inch of him exposed to her view. He was beautiful, all lean muscle. A trail of pale hair dusted his chest, down across his stomach, and to that part of him that was swollen and straining toward her. She swallowed hard, focusing on his face instead, suddenly nervous. But the ache in her had not gone away at the sight of him aroused and ready for her. It had only grown. She needed his arms about her, his lips on hers again, more than she needed anything.

She reached out for him. Instead of coming to her, however, he leaned down. She gasped as he reached up under her shift, his warm fingers on her legs, slowly rolling her fine silk stockings down over calf, heel, toes. And then, to her shock, he took the hem of her shift in his teeth. He began to pull it up, inch by inch. Her breathing grew ragged and she bit her lip to keep from moaning as he worked his way up slowly, baring every bit of her.

In one swift move his hands joined his teeth and the shift was gone, up and over her head. Caleb held himself above her for a time, looking down at her naked body, pale in the moonlight. Imogen gripped the blankets in her hands, stunned at the raw need she saw on his face. And then he growled low in his throat and covered her body with his own.

Imogen shuddered at the feel of his skin on hers. Nothing was between them now, not even a breath of air. Never did she think such a sensation existed. Surely nothing could feel better than this.

He proved her wrong in the next moment.

“Imogen,” he groaned. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” His lips worked their way down her throat, across her chest and to her straining breasts. Imogen’s breath caught in her throat, her back arching toward his questing mouth. He claimed her nipple, his mouth hot and moist. She cried out, nearly coming off the bed in her shock.

His hands went to her hips, holding her still beneath his onslaught. And then the fingers of one hand loosened their grip and trailed across her stomach. When he reached between their bodies and touched her, that intimate center of her that she hardly even touched herself, she instinctively clamped her legs together.

“Open for me, Imogen,” he rasped. He pushed at her legs, and she let them fall open to him. His fingers caressed her, swirling over her swollen flesh, making her gasp and writhe beneath him. Her hands gripped his shoulders for support.

When his finger entered her, her body coiled unbearably. She was so close to something, desperately wanting it.

“Caleb,” she gasped, a plea.

“You’re so ready for me.” He raised his head then and looked down at her. His eyes were almost wild from desire. But he paused.

“Imogen,” he said, his voice low and taut as the string of a bow, “if you want me to stop, you have to tell me now. There is no turning back after this.”

She gazed up at him, at the torture he was putting himself through to make certain she understood. He would stop this very moment if she asked him to. She knew it with every bit of her. She would still be a virgin, would still have her honor.

But she didn’t want him to stop. If he stopped now, she felt she would break into a million pieces and would never be able to put herself together again. She could no more leave him than stop breathing.

“Don’t stop, Caleb,” she whispered. “Please.”

He groaned, his body coming down hard and heavy on hers, his mouth claiming her own. His hand left her, and a moment later he was moving between her legs, his lean hips fitting between her thighs. His hands gripped her hips.

Imogen clung to him, her fingers digging into his sweat-slicked back as he poised himself at her entrance. He began to push forward slowly, and she felt an unbearable tightness as he filled her.

He suddenly stopped, seeming to gather himself. And then he surged forward in one smooth thrust.

The breath left her, more from shock than pain. But in the space of a heartbeat it dissolved away, and all that was left behind was sensation. He began to move within her, and the strange tension she felt before came back tenfold.

She threw her head back, gasping. Her feet dug into the mattress, her hips moving with his. She was aware of his breath, ragged in her ear.

“That’s right, love,” he rasped. “Let it come.”

His movements quickened. The tension became a nearly unbearable ache.

“Caleb, please!” she cried, not understanding what she was asking for.

“Imogen,” he groaned.

And then she shattered. Caleb’s mouth covered hers as she cried out. Golden stars burst behind her closed lids, her every muscle taut, her breath strangling in her throat. As she began to float back to earth she felt him tense, give one final thrust. She captured his own shout of completion as he had done for her, her limbs cradling him as he collapsed atop her.

And then there was only a wonderful lethargy, and peace, and happiness as her eyes shut and she drifted off in his arms.