Page 29 of Temptation and the Artist

“Oh…” she whispered. “Oh, Stephen…” She gazed deep into his eyes, and he into hers, and then he began to move, and she with him.

His hands grazed her cheek, her lips. “How can one person be this lovely, this…”

“You are,” she whispered, unable to hold back the bliss. “You are…” She reached again for his mouth, and he gave it, sweet and sensual.

It was the first of many joys she found in his arms, until, the greatest of all, when he rose up over her writhing body, withdrawing, and allowing his own magnificent passion to release at last with hers.

*

When Stephen awoke, he was warm, deliciously happy, and tangled in Aline’s gloriously naked limbs. Never had he found such intense pleasure as in making love with this woman, this unique, beautiful woman, who was everything he had ever wanted and so much more.

Where the devil did that come from? But, no, he wasn’t even surprised by the knowledge. It had been creeping up on him, galloping on him since he had begun to know her here, building on the voracious desires of his body.

Which had been quite right. She was a magnificent, generous, utterly passionate lover, and her joy moved him as no other woman’s ever had. Despite her experience—or perhaps because of it—there was something sweetly vulnerable about her.

Levering up on one elbow, he gazed down at her in the pale dawn light. I adore you.

He did, with every fiber of his being. And he loved that it was so.

He wanted her again. He also wanted to paint her thus, tangled with the sheets, beautiful in her well-loved, rumpled debauchery. He smiled at the thought. Painting her so intimately, without permission, would be a betrayal. Besides the moment was between her and him, and he was honored to have her in his bed. Honored and thoroughly aroused.

He shifted, just to touch her hair, the soft skin of her cheek, keeping it light so as not to wake her. Or at least give her the chance to go back to sleep. But he saw her delicious lips stretch into a smile, and when he skimmed a finger over them, they moved to kiss it. He needed no further encouragement to replace it with his mouth, teasing her to full wakefulness. The kiss deepened slowly, delightfully into one of utter sin as his body settled over hers, caressing, worshiping.

Her response was sleepy yet savoring. “I thought I had dreamed you in my bed.”

“You must have. For here you are in mine.”

Her eyes opened, already clouded with passion that almost undid him. Taking him by surprise, she pushed, rolling him onto his back. At least she came with him. And, perhaps in revenge for his slow approach last night, she began to caress him with her knowing fingers and her mouth, covering his body, chest and stomach and…

He closed his eyes in bliss. Never stop that. Never leave this bed. Never leave me.

The gift of such pleasure deserved reciprocation, which he was more than happy to provide, while the sun rose higher behind the curtains and spilled dappled light upon her beauty.

“It must be nearly nine,” she murmured sleepily into his throat as they lay tangled together, sated once more. “I need to see Basil. And wear something less decadent than that evening gown.”

“Smuggle yourself in with the domino cloak still around you,” Stephen advised as she began to untangle herself and sit up. “I wish you could just stay here.” I wish we didn’t have to pretend. But that led in a dangerous direction, and he was relieved to be distracted by her slender, naked back.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes tempting, and yet suddenly veiled. “I could come back.”

“To be painted?”

“Of course.” A smile, wicked and entirely Aline flashed across her face and was gone. Hastily, she collected her strewn clothes and donned them with her back to him. It crossed his mind that even after the intimacies they had enjoyed, she was shy.

“You are so beautiful,” he said softly. In new and wonderful ways that astounded him. “Shall I fasten your gown?”

“There is no point when I am about to take it off again.” She found one stocking and sat on the bottom of the bed to slide it over her foot.

Stephen, spotting the other under the dressing table, rose from the bed and retrieved it. He knelt before her and took her bare foot into his hand.

“What are you doing?” she asked warily.

“Helping you to dress. After all, I was largely responsible for the undressing.”

A bewildered smile flickered in her eyes and was gone. She watched him as he slipped the stocking over her foot and drew it up over her calf and knee. Her breathing changed when he reached her thigh, but she did not stop him. It was hard to stop himself and tie her garter.

She seemed embarrassed now by his nakedness, for her eyes slid away and would not meet his as she rose and swung the domino cloak around her. He did not wish to part from her so. In fact, he was aware of rising panic.

Hastily, he struggled into an old dressing gown that dangled over one of the bedposts and made it to the door, just as her hand closed around the key.

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