Cold-Hearted Rake
Page 83
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Devon’s gaze turned baffled. “I think we’d better start defining terms,” he said slowly. “Now that we’ve slept together, what difference does it make if we do it again tomorrow night?”
Wondering how to make him understand, she chewed her bottom lip. “Devon,” she asked eventually, “what is the pattern of your usual relationships with women?”
He clearly disliked the question. “There’s no pattern.”
She gave him a skeptical glance. “I’m sure they all began the same,” she said in a neutral tone. “You took an interest in someone, and after some flirtation and pursuit, you eventually seduced her.”
His brows lowered. “They were always willing.”
Gazing at the magnificently formed man beside her, Kathleen smiled slightly. “I’m sure they were,” she said. “It’s certainly no hardship to go to bed with you.”
“Then why —”
“Wait,” she murmured. “How long did it usually last after you took up with someone? A few years? A few days?”
“On average,” he said curtly, “a matter of months.”
“And during that time, you visited the lady’s bed whenever it was convenient. Until you eventually grew tired of her.” She paused. “I assume you were usually the one to end it?”
He gave her an outright scowl. “I’m beginning to feel as if I’m at Chancery Court.”
“I assume that means yes.”
Devon’s arms withdrew, and he sat up. “Yes. I was always the one to end it. I would bring her a parting gift, tell her I would always treasure the memories, and then I left with all possible haste. What has any of that to do with us?”
Drawing the sheets higher over her breasts, Kathleen said frankly, “That’s what I mean when I say I don’t want an affair. I don’t want you to assume I’ll be available whenever you wish to satisfy your needs. I don’t want either of us to have any claim on the other. I don’t want complications or the possibility of scandal, and I don’t want a parting gift.”
“What the devil do you want?”
Diffidently she began to fold the edge of the sheet into tiny fanlike pleats. “I suppose… I would like to spend a night with you every now and then, when we both desire it. With no obligations or expectations.”
“Define ‘every now and then.’ Once a week?”
She shrugged and let out a nonplussed laugh. “I wouldn’t want to schedule it. Couldn’t we just allow it to happen simply and naturally?”
“No,” Devon said stonily. “Men like schedules. We don’t like unanswered questions. We’d rather know what’s going to happen and when.”
“Even in matters of intimacy?”
“Especially in matters of intimacy. Damn it, why can’t you be like other women?”
Kathleen’s lips quirked with a wry, regretful smile. “And give you all the control? Hop into bed whenever you snap your fingers, as often as you wish, until you lose interest in me? And then I suppose I should stand at the door waiting for my good-bye present?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw, while his eyes flashed. “I wouldn’t treat you like that.”
Of course he would. That was how he had always treated women.
“I’m sorry, Devon, but I can’t do it your way. We’ll have to do it my way, or not at all.”
“I’m damned if I even understand what your way is,” he grated.
“I’ve made you angry,” she said regretfully, beginning to sit up. “Shall I leave?”
Devon pushed her back down and leaned over her. “Not on your life.” He stripped away the sheet in an abrupt motion. “Since I have no idea when I’ll be allowed to bed you next, I have to make the most of my opportunities.”
“But I’m sore,” she protested, reflexively covering her breasts and groin with her hands.
His head lowered. “I won’t hurt you,” he growled against her belly. He nibbled at the edge of her navel, and then his tongue slipped inside the little hollow, making her gasp. He repeated it deliberately, and again, until he felt her quiver.
As his mouth worked downward, her heart began to pound and her vision blurred. Her hands slid away and her thighs loosened, parting easily as he spread them. With diabolical gentleness, he aroused her with lips, teeth, tongue, bringing her to the edge of fulfillment but never letting her go over. He held her between his elbows, the maddening teasing continuing until she heard herself begging. His tongue thrust in silky-wet penetrations, deep and steady, stroking her into a series of wrenching spasms. Reaching down, she clamped her trembling hands around his skull, holding him to her. He licked at the taste of her as if he couldn’t have enough, and she purred and arched, her nerves dancing in response. As her pulse quieted, she stretched beneath him with a sigh of exhaustion.
He began again.
“No,” she said with a shaky laugh. “Devon, please…”
But he was tugging at her sensitive flesh, so relentless and determined that she could only surrender with a groan. The candle burned down and shadows reclaimed the room, until there was nothing left but darkness and pleasure.
Chapter 27
As the days of January trudged by, Kathleen remained steadfast in her refusal to allow Devon a place in her bed. In one fell swoop, she had assumed control of their relationship. As a result, Devon was perpetually filled with a mixture of outrage, lust, and genuine bewilderment, in varying proportions.
Wondering how to make him understand, she chewed her bottom lip. “Devon,” she asked eventually, “what is the pattern of your usual relationships with women?”
He clearly disliked the question. “There’s no pattern.”
She gave him a skeptical glance. “I’m sure they all began the same,” she said in a neutral tone. “You took an interest in someone, and after some flirtation and pursuit, you eventually seduced her.”
His brows lowered. “They were always willing.”
Gazing at the magnificently formed man beside her, Kathleen smiled slightly. “I’m sure they were,” she said. “It’s certainly no hardship to go to bed with you.”
“Then why —”
“Wait,” she murmured. “How long did it usually last after you took up with someone? A few years? A few days?”
“On average,” he said curtly, “a matter of months.”
“And during that time, you visited the lady’s bed whenever it was convenient. Until you eventually grew tired of her.” She paused. “I assume you were usually the one to end it?”
He gave her an outright scowl. “I’m beginning to feel as if I’m at Chancery Court.”
“I assume that means yes.”
Devon’s arms withdrew, and he sat up. “Yes. I was always the one to end it. I would bring her a parting gift, tell her I would always treasure the memories, and then I left with all possible haste. What has any of that to do with us?”
Drawing the sheets higher over her breasts, Kathleen said frankly, “That’s what I mean when I say I don’t want an affair. I don’t want you to assume I’ll be available whenever you wish to satisfy your needs. I don’t want either of us to have any claim on the other. I don’t want complications or the possibility of scandal, and I don’t want a parting gift.”
“What the devil do you want?”
Diffidently she began to fold the edge of the sheet into tiny fanlike pleats. “I suppose… I would like to spend a night with you every now and then, when we both desire it. With no obligations or expectations.”
“Define ‘every now and then.’ Once a week?”
She shrugged and let out a nonplussed laugh. “I wouldn’t want to schedule it. Couldn’t we just allow it to happen simply and naturally?”
“No,” Devon said stonily. “Men like schedules. We don’t like unanswered questions. We’d rather know what’s going to happen and when.”
“Even in matters of intimacy?”
“Especially in matters of intimacy. Damn it, why can’t you be like other women?”
Kathleen’s lips quirked with a wry, regretful smile. “And give you all the control? Hop into bed whenever you snap your fingers, as often as you wish, until you lose interest in me? And then I suppose I should stand at the door waiting for my good-bye present?”
A muscle twitched in his jaw, while his eyes flashed. “I wouldn’t treat you like that.”
Of course he would. That was how he had always treated women.
“I’m sorry, Devon, but I can’t do it your way. We’ll have to do it my way, or not at all.”
“I’m damned if I even understand what your way is,” he grated.
“I’ve made you angry,” she said regretfully, beginning to sit up. “Shall I leave?”
Devon pushed her back down and leaned over her. “Not on your life.” He stripped away the sheet in an abrupt motion. “Since I have no idea when I’ll be allowed to bed you next, I have to make the most of my opportunities.”
“But I’m sore,” she protested, reflexively covering her breasts and groin with her hands.
His head lowered. “I won’t hurt you,” he growled against her belly. He nibbled at the edge of her navel, and then his tongue slipped inside the little hollow, making her gasp. He repeated it deliberately, and again, until he felt her quiver.
As his mouth worked downward, her heart began to pound and her vision blurred. Her hands slid away and her thighs loosened, parting easily as he spread them. With diabolical gentleness, he aroused her with lips, teeth, tongue, bringing her to the edge of fulfillment but never letting her go over. He held her between his elbows, the maddening teasing continuing until she heard herself begging. His tongue thrust in silky-wet penetrations, deep and steady, stroking her into a series of wrenching spasms. Reaching down, she clamped her trembling hands around his skull, holding him to her. He licked at the taste of her as if he couldn’t have enough, and she purred and arched, her nerves dancing in response. As her pulse quieted, she stretched beneath him with a sigh of exhaustion.
He began again.
“No,” she said with a shaky laugh. “Devon, please…”
But he was tugging at her sensitive flesh, so relentless and determined that she could only surrender with a groan. The candle burned down and shadows reclaimed the room, until there was nothing left but darkness and pleasure.
Chapter 27
As the days of January trudged by, Kathleen remained steadfast in her refusal to allow Devon a place in her bed. In one fell swoop, she had assumed control of their relationship. As a result, Devon was perpetually filled with a mixture of outrage, lust, and genuine bewilderment, in varying proportions.
