Page 17 of Invitation to Pleasure
She forgot all about her father as she did the final wrapping of her gifts for the Hascombe family, and she hoped Daniel would love the solid silver brandy flask she had bought him.
She’d just finished wrapping Wilton’s toy soldiers when she heard heavy boots pounding up the stairs and the door to her room flew open. Daniel stood in the doorway, his eyes wild and his mouth set in a firm line. His eyes found her across the room, and he strode over to her and ran a finger along the bruise forming on her neck.
“I’ll kill him.”
She took his hand and placed it on her cheek. “I’m fine. But thank you for coming for me.”
“Did he do anything else to you.”
She shook her head. “No. I made him see it would not be in his best interests to hurt me. Besides, I think he’s made other plans. I reminded him he could simply sell the estate. It’s worth about the same as my trust fund.”
Daniel pulled her to her feet and ran his hands over her body as if not believing she was well. “I want to find him and squeeze the life out of him.”
She pressed a kiss to his nose. “He’s not worth it. I just want him out of my life, and my mother protected.”
Tension still wracked his body, she could see it in his shoulders and the way one of his hands was fisted closed with his knuckles white.
“Daniel, just help me walk out of this house and never look back. With mother safe I feel as if a weight has lifted off my shoulders. It’s Christmas and I want to use it as a turning point in my life. I want to celebrate it with you because you have made it possible, and I’ll never forget your kindness.”
The tension turned from violence to sensual at her declaration. Both of them noticed they were in her bedchamber, and the large four-poster bed was like a flaming beacon.
She wanted this man. Wanted him here and now. Maybe it was the aftermath of her father’s violence, or maybe it was the power swimming in her veins. Her destiny was now her own. And she wanted to grab it with everything she was.
He must have seen the longing in her eyes because he reached for her; palm curving about her jaw, he tipped up her face, drew her close. He studied her eyes—as if searching for permission, searching for what she wanted. She didn’t even contemplate hiding herself from him.
“I need you to be sure.”
Her gaze focused on his lips. She watched, mesmerized, as he drew in another breath. Opened his lips to speak again—
She stretched up, drew his head down, brought her lips close to his and murmured, “I want you. No. I need you.”
He covered her lips with his, kissing her voraciously, all consuming. She heard her maid slink from the room and close the door so they were totally alone.
She couldn’t even remember how he got her clothes off but suddenly she was standing naked in front of him, and she reveled in the wantonness of this moment. She’d never felt so free.
Or so desired.
Daniel’s hands slid over her bare skin like a whispered caress. Reverent. Worshipping. Claiming...
He closed his arms about her, pulling her close, molding her to him. Any suggestion of stopping him died the instant she’d set eyes upon his face, on all he said in just one hot, burning gaze.
Naked in his arms, she clung, and returned his kisses greedily, avidly—flagrantly encouraged him to seize, take, and claim.
Halting, he asked, his voice a husky promise, “I should make Christmas wishes more often.”
On a groan, he lifted her and turned with her in his arms to face the bed. He let her down, sliding her body down his, his hands cupping her bottom, pressing her to him, molding her softness against his erection while his tongue plundered her mouth, leaving her a mass of aching need. Heat bloomed and fire took hold—she wanted more.
She reluctantly eased back from his kiss. “I want to see you. See if you’re all I imagined,” she added breathlessly.
With eager hands she pushed his coat wide, trapping his arms. With a curse, he let her go, stepped back, wrenched off his coat, and flung it aside.
Her eyes widened at the violence behind the movement. He stilled. “I’d never hurt you. You do know that?”
In answer she stepped back into his embrace, her lips brazenly seeking his, her hand covering his heart. She knew the man he was. Gentle, giving, kind—loving. Loving was why she found him so attractive, why he and only he would do for her journey into passion.
Georgiana acted on her newfound desire, yanking the halves of his waistcoat apart, stretching to slip it from his board shoulders. Impatiently he pulled his shirt over his head, and finally she had her hands on hot, rough, skin. She ran her fingers over his chest and stomach, the muscles beneath rigid and locked. His chest was a wonder of rough hairs the color of a lion’s mane. She leaned into him and licked. He tasted divine, addictive.
He once more plundered her mouth, his hands closing about, and then provocatively kneading the globes of her bottom. The long muscles framing his back flexed like steel beneath her wandering hands. She ran her fingers down his back, counting the ribs as she traced the muscles leading her down his sides and back to his waist, to caress the rippling bands across his abdomen. They rippled at each touch.
