Page 7 of Claiming His Estranged Viscountess (Rogues from War 2)

The connecting door clicked open; a candlelight came into view. Startled, she sat up, bedsheet held to her chest. Conrad entered her room and closed the door behind him. She looked at the door, sure she had kept it locked.

He followed her gaze. “I instructed the footmen to remove the lock.” His stance casual.

“Bastard!” Was the only thing she could blurt out, her eyes furious on him.

One side of his lips moved in a half smirk. “I have been called worse.”

“What are you doing here?”

“We have come to an agreement, remember?” He walked to her side and placed the candle on her bedside table.

He dressed a kind of tunic and trousers, which made him taller. The silky fabric hugged his shoulders and chest, highlighting his toned muscles. She swallowed drily, the view of him wrenchingly disturbing.

“We haven’t signed it yet.” She pulled the counterpane to her neck.

“It will be done tomorrow. Don’t worry.” He sat on the mattress. “We have no time to waste.”

“More than you did already?” Again, contempt got the best of her. “A few days more wouldn’t make any difference.”

He did not bother to answer her as he extended his hand and started undoing her tress. She held it to prevent him from doing it. He stared at her, his dark eyes, darker, his midnight hair shining bluish in the candlelight. He lowered his head and kissed her hand on her hair, open mouthed, moving his lips over it, tingling her skin. Her heart leapt, her breath faltering. His spicy scent reached her nostrils, tantalising. She tore her hand from under his warm lips. Which made him go back to undoing her tress.

Things did appear tragic. She wished he changed his mind and left her alone. Wished she did not become so hot. Wished he got it over with quickly, like the first, and only, time. All at once. Conflicting emotions surfaced, none of them taking forefront.

Her hair spread over the pillow, the candlelight lending reddish streaks to it. What did her hair have to do with...with the whole thing? She wondered, eyes restless.

“You have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen.” He murmured in a deep voice. “Silky and glossy.” He took the strands and lifted it to his nose, closing his eyes in appreciation, as he smelled it. Her breath caught in her dry throat. Slowly, he rose his candent eyes to hers.

God, he was seducing her! What on deranged earth was she supposed to do? This had to be a technical procedure, like the cattle in the estate! Her eyes widened on him, her whole body tensing, blocking the sensations. Or making a lousy attempt to.

He diminished the distance between them as he lowered his head over hers. She gulped air, her hands clutching the counterpane as it served as an armour. His lips touched her cheek. Her lashes made to weigh down. She avoided it, pressed her arms against her bosom. His mouth roved in the direction of her ear. She dove into deep water now, her heart churning with pain, her body burning with his touch. She closed her eyes tight; it was as if a blade chopped her in two.

“Relax.” He murmured in his deep hoarse voice. “I want you to enjoy this.”

Enjoy? Her rosewood eyes popped open at maximum width. What might there be to enjoy? They planned a child for heaven’s sake! But her clashing thoughts severed from her when his mouth moved to hers. She clenched her lips; it did not deter him though. He caressed her tight seem with his lips, darted his tongue to taste her. Her eyes fell closed, her heart thundered. He left her mouth. Back to her ear to nibble it. Oh! She sighed mindless.

Low blow. In a flash, he took advantage of her lips apart and invaded her mouth, assailing her with a heat wave of sensations. A groan surfaced in her throat as her body sagged and her lips widened at his command. His tongue did unthinkable things to hers, her head spinning, their tongues rolling over one another. How could he undo her with one touch? How was it possible this passion to surface after this long time? How did she melt so pathetically with this man? Without her permission, her hands grabbed his strong upper arms, as if they feared she would drown. And she would. God help her, she would!

Her bedcovers vanished, the laces of her sober nightdress sliding open. He deepened the kiss, and she cooperated with irritating willingness. Her body arched seeking his warmth, losing control bit by terrible bit.

He never let up the invasion of her lips, kissing her further with more and more enticement. It lengthened, spread, threw open, until they devoured each other in earnest.

It might not go on forever. They must come up for air after what seemed years! He lifted his torso from hers, his dark eyes fixed on her, he took out his tunic in a fluid movement and renewed his attack on her senses. His muscular chest peppered with dark smooth hair filled her view. His stubble-experienced mouth came to her neck, kissing, nipping, suckling on her hopping vein until her hands plunged in his midnight hair. He descended grazing her neck, making way through her open nightdress. When he reached her breast, she dejectedly lost her mind.

Bloody hell! He had not planned it this way. This fire of hers ignited him to desperation. He had wanted to take it slow. Seduce her, build up her confidence, treat her delicately. But this…? Where had this she-wolf hid all this time? This passionate woman had lived under his roof for five years and he never realised it, fool that he was!

Never leaving her delectable breasts, he rolled her coarse nightdress up, his hand accompanying it, caressing her thigh, to find her hot, wet and ready. Goddam it! He became so hard, he thought he would shame himself. He tried to slow down a little. Taking his time, he encouraged her to open up for him, as he massaged her swollen button delicately. The scent of her, woman and verbena, involved him. A whimper escaped her elegant lips. He carried on, intent on giving her as much pleasure as he could. She contorted under him, driving him to the brink of madness. When he perceived she was ready, he took out his pyjamas trousers and prepared to glimpse paradise.

Aurelia never fathomed there might be so much pleasure under the sun. Hungry for more, for what only he wanted to give her. When he primed to do it, she almost hallucinated with want. He drove in her tight channel, sure and deep, her head fell back, she embraced him arms and legs, sending the rest to the blazes.

“So tight.” He breathed out in a nearly painful groan. “I am not going to survive!”

Next, they were adrift in pleasure, moving in unison, chasing the end of the rainbow. When it happened, it was cataclysmic. Her body trembled, shuddered and she cried in sheer surprise and rapture.

He drove on and on until he moved the deepest and grunted his pleasure. They stayed like this for long minutes, as if neither believed in what had just happened.

Reality interposed only too soon. Self-disgust came in the forefront. How could she have lost her mind with the man who did what he did with their marriage? How had it been possible to lower her defences so deplorably? Did she learn nothing with what she had gone through in those years? A wave of bitterness and sadness stormed in her. A break down approached. Fast. Inexorable. She must be alone. Immediately!

“Leave.” She managed to utter low but clear, throat tightening. He had rolled to the side by then.

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