Seven Nights of Sin: Seven Sensuous Stories by Bestselling Historical Romance Authors Read online

  She stilled. Her features went taut. Her throat worked. “Already?”

  “We shall begin with something familiar, shall we? Did you enjoy the kiss we shared in the coach?”

  Her curls bobbed as she nodded. “Very much.”

  “Excellent. Shall we try it again?”

  In response she leaned over the table between their chairs, closed her eyes and pursed her lips. When he did not leap upon her, she cracked open one lid. “Well?” she said through her pucker.

  “I don’t remember us being so far away from each other,” he said, and when her brow quirked, he patted his lap.

  “Surely you don’t expect me to—”

  “Surely I do. If we are to make love, Tildy, we need to become familiar with each other, don’t you think? I would like you to be comfortable in my presence.”

  “I am perfectly comfortable in your presence.”

  “Then come here.” Another pat.

  She rolled her eyes—actually rolled her eyes—blew out a huff and levered herself from the chair, coming to stand before him. He took her hand and laced his fingers in hers. And tugged.

  It was awkward at first, settling her on his lap, because she was stiff as a board and tried diligently not to touch as much of him as she could. She perched on his thigh, sitting bolt upright.

  “Are you comfortable?” he asked.

  “Perfectly.” A complete lie.

  He laughed and tugged her against him. How it was possible, he didn’t know, but she stiffened even more.

  “Tildy?”

  It took a while for her to meet his eyes. And he was struck again by how beautiful she was. “Yes?”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” It nearly killed him to ask, because, damn, she felt divine in his lap, an armful of curves and froth. “You don’t have to, you know. I’m sure there is another way to break off a betrothal.”

  She thrust out her chin. “I do. I want to do this.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Of course I’m certain. I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Then kiss me.” Perhaps if she took the lead, she would feel more at ease.

  “K-k-k-kiss you?”

  Or not.

  “Yes. It is a simple thing really. Put your lips on mine and…” What? “Explore.”

  “Explore?” Ah. That, at least, seemed to intrigue her.

  “That is what we are doing, is it not? Exploring each other?”

  “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

  “Well.” He leaned back and spread his arms wide. “Explore me. I am your canvas.”

  He didn’t expect her to peer at him with a dubious expression as she surveyed his person. He was a fine specimen—or at least that was what he’d been told. Her reaction said otherwise. But still, after a disarmingly long pause, she reached out and gently touched his cheek. And then she laid her palm flat and scudded it over the bristles of his beard.

  He closed his eyes and allowed her this. But really, he allowed himself to savor the innocence of her touch. Despite his simmering ardor, despite the fact that his body was tense and ready and hungry for her, he basked in it.

  She traced his eyebrow and the bridge of his nose. His lips.

  He opened to her then and sucked at her fingertip.

  She make a sound, like an eep, but didn’t pull away.

  Then she touched his hair, stroked it, raked it with her nails.

  “That’s nice,” he groaned.

  “Is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “How about this?”

  His eyes were closed, so he didn’t see it coming, her kiss. It was gentle and soft and utterly untrained, and he loved it. He made a sound of appreciation, deep in his throat, and he felt her smile against his mouth. He could not resist responding, could not resist dabbing her with his tongue.

  He hated that she pulled way, but then she smiled when she said, “I like that.”

  He peeped at her through long lashes. “My tongue?”

  She flushed. “Yes. Is that wanton of me?”

  “Not in the slightest. I like it too. Come here.”

  This time, she did not hesitate. He cupped her cheek with his hand and held her close, and showed her some of the things a tongue could do.

  Apparently, he was better than he thought he was, because she relaxed against him, from shoulder to hip, and opened to him.

  He cradled her and stroked her lightly as he kissed her, savored her. Her response was sublime. As the kiss deepened and the passion arose, she became even more daring, which he adored.

  She was untutored, but she had enthusiasm.

  His was rising as well.

  Which she noticed.

  She pulled back and frowned at him, giving her bottom a wiggle. “What is that?” she said on a laugh.

  He attempted to look innocent. “What is what?”

  “That. It’s hard.” She bounced a little and his eyes crossed.

  “That, my dear, is my cock, which you have made very hard.”

  “I most certainly did not.”

  “Oh, but you did.” He grinned. “You are a very good kisser.”

  “Am I?” The pleasure in her expression was not feigned.

  “You are. And you have aroused me beyond bearing.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “It can be.”

  She studied him again with that curious look. Her lips formed a pout—which he found extraordinarily tempting. “You don’t look aroused beyond bearing.”

  “Trust me. I am very aroused.”

  “Well. That is good I suppose, considering what we are about. So tell me, Dev.” He shivered at the sound of his name on her lips. “What comes next?”

  Ah, next. What came next was—

  A knock on the door.

  Apparently that was what came next.

  He blew out a breath and eased her from his lap, which he hated to do because somewhere in their play, she had utterly relaxed against him. “Dinner, I believe,” he said with a commendable attempt at humor.

  Her response was another pout, which, all things considered, was encouraging in the extreme.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TILDY DIDN’T REALIZE how famished she was until Bronson entered the suite, in a fragrant cloud, with a tray of food and wine. After he left, Dev lifted the domes and the smells swelled. She nearly fainted.

  “Oh my.” She rushed closer to take a deep sniff. “Roast beef and pudding. My favorite.”

  Dev grinned. “Mine too.” He dished out a plate, poured himself a large glass of wine and then sat on his chair, but when she started to do the same, he stopped her, patting his lap again. “Let’s share,” he said.

  “Share?” She glanced at the tray. There was plenty of food. Certainly enough for two plates.

  “Trust me.” There was a twinkle in his eye she could not resist. She’d enjoyed being on his lap—once she’d relaxed—so close to him, soaking in his warmth and his scent. She’d wanted to stay there forever.

  He patted his lap again and she complied, settling herself on him gently. He was rather hard, after all. At least, in certain places.

  And on that note, she was thrilled that he found her attractive. It would most likely help in her deflowering. If they ever got to that part.

  To her shock, Dev picked up a piece of beef with his fingers and dangled it before her mouth.

  She blinked. “What do you expect me to do with that?”

  “Open wide.”

  Heat suffused her at the thought of eating from his hand. It was so intimate an act. But no less intimate than coupling with him, she supposed. So she did as he asked and he set the beef into her mouth.

  It was delicious. Tender and savory with a creamy gravy. Only to be polite, she sucked the remaining gravy from his fingers and was surprised by his response. Something lit in his eyes. Something savage and predatory.

  He shifted beneath her.

  “Your turn.” There was a definite crack to hi
s voice.

  She studied the plate and selected a portion for him and then, holding her breath, put it into his mouth. He closed on her fingers. Suckled them. And heaven! A sizzle of excitement shot through her. His mouth was warm and velvet as his teeth and tongue worked her flesh.

  “I think it’s all gone,” she said after a while, when he kept nibbling.

  “Still delectable,” he murmured and she laughed.

  They fed each other like that, interspersing bites with sips of a rich red wine that complemented the beef perfectly. Although, if she was being honest, it was his unique flavors that made the meal as enjoyable as it was.

  “Do people often eat like this?” she asked, curling herself into him as they finished their repast.

  “Some do.”

  “Well, it is very nice.”

  “Mmm.” He seemed inclined to hold her, just like that. She was inclined to let him. It was a warm cocoon, a charming comfort. His thumb worked on her arm, just stroking lazily. She could have stayed there all night.

  “This is very nice, Dev,” she said.

  “Mmm mmm.” He kissed her brow.

  Silence, punctuated by the crackle of the fire, blanketed them. After a while, she said, “Did you mention a bath?”

  His chest shook with his chuckle. “I did. Would you like one?”

  “Oh most definitely.”

  “Are you sure you’re ready?”

  Why would she not be ready? She’d had hundreds of baths in her lifetime and enjoyed each and every one. She pushed up to stare at him. “Ready?”

  He took hold of one of her curls and tugged it gently. “I intend to bathe you, my dear.”

  Her body went hot from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Even her breasts seemed heated…especially her nipples. They tightened. She had no idea why, but it was a pleasant feeling. As was the ache between her legs. A raw throbbing she’d never felt before.

  She wiggled against him; she did not know why, but it seemed the thing to do.

  His eyes widened. “Yes,” he said in a low voice. “I think you’re ready.”

  He lifted her as he stood, and then locked his fingers in hers and strolled toward a door on the side of the bedroom. He seemed nonchalant, but there was an intensity in his gait, in his humming energy, that betrayed his impatience.

  She could tell he was trying to take this slow and easy, and it pleased her. This would be difficult for her, she had no doubts about it, but knowing he was determined to make it as pleasant as such an ordeal could be was a relief.

  He opened the door and gestured her in. The room was warm and wreathed in steam. The claw-footed tub stood on the far side and was filled with water…scented with roses. Oh, this part—at least—would be divine.

  She shot Dev a smile and was shocked to catch him unawares. His expression was pained, but he quickly recovered and smiled back. “Your bath, my lady.”

  “It looks wonderful.”

  “Shall I help you undress?”

  Her heart leaped into her throat. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. But of course, if he were to bathe her and she were to be in the tub…she would need to be bare. But the prospect of him seeing her like that was dismaying. She locked her fingers together and looked away from his simmering gaze. “I… No one has ever seen me naked before.”

  “No one? Not even your maid?”

  “She hardly counts.”

  “Well then, consider me your servant.”

  Her servant? Oh, she rather liked that idea. “Will you do whatever I ask?”

  His throat worked before he said, “Most certainly.”

  Oh yes. She liked this very much. With newfound courage she presented her back to him. “Then by all means. Help me undress.” If she got nervous, she could always close her eyes, after all.

  She was certain his fingers did not tremble as he made his way down the row of buttons marching along her spine, but he did seem to fumble with them. “Are you having trouble?” she asked.

  “They are very small buttons,” he complained. “And it has been a long time since I have…”

  “Since you have…what?”

  He cleared his throat. “Since I have tackled so many buttons. Why do you suppose there are so many?”

  She laughed, unsure from where this sudden audacity came. It was probably a result of the fact that she could not see him. Somehow, that made this interaction less raw. “Anticipation?” she offered.

  He chuckled. “I daresay. I shall have to have a chat with your modiste in future.”

  And then silence fell, because they both knew there would be no future.

  “Ah,” he said and then he parted the panels of her dress. A cool wash tickled the vee of her back he had bared. And then a shiver wracked her as something soft and warm touched her skin. His lips.

  They moved to her neck and he nuzzled her there. A thrill scuttled through her and she leaned into the caresses. She was so besotted by this tender exploration, she barely noticed that he had slipped the fabric from her shoulders and her dress fell to the floor.

  She still wore a chemise, but it was hardly anything. He quickly, matter-of-factly, divested her of this as well. And then he turned her.

  At which point, she closed her eyes.

  She couldn’t face him.

  The warm, fragrant gush of his breath bathed her. “Ah. Tildy.”

  She peeped at him. His expression slayed her. Hunger, want, raging desire. It stoked an ember blazing in her belly. He wanted her. Tremendously.

  His hand shook as he lifted it, and then, when he cupped her breast, he sighed again. As did she. His touch was achingly gentle, yet teasing as well. It left her wanting more.

  Which he gave her, scudding his thumb over her erect nipple.

  She was not prepared for the sudden shaft of pleasure that took her. Her eyes flew open wide and he looked up. Their gazes locked.

  He smiled. It was a crooked offering and adorable. “Do you like that?” he asked in a whisper, as though this moment were too reverent for more.

  “I do.”

  “Excellent.”

  She tipped her head to the side. “Why is it excellent?”

  “Because, my dear, it speaks to your passion.”

  “My passion?”

  “Yes. Because this is only the beginning of the pleasure I will show you. I love that your body is so responsive to me.” He nodded to the tub, as though he were somehow suddenly impatient. “Ready?”

  She was. In many ways. But she decided to follow his lead. It had been quite pleasant so far.

  He held her hand as she stepped into the tub and then, as the hot water encased her, she lost all focus on anything but the utter delight dancing on her skin. Her groan was heartfelt and echoed in the tiled chamber.

  He chuckled. “Nice?”

  “Oh yes.” So far, she quite liked lovemaking.

  But then she had no idea what he had in mind for her.

  He picked up a cloth and made a fine lather with the soap. “Close your eyes,” he said and she frowned. Suddenly, she didn’t want to. She wanted to watch. “Go on.”

  With a huff, she did. She leaned back in the water, reveling in the lovely waves her movement made, and tried to relax.

  She jumped with the first touch of the cloth, though it was on her neck.

  “Hush,” he murmured. “Hush.”

  He meticulously washed her neck and arms, rinsing her just as carefully. But then, when she was lured into a dreamy peace, he set the cloth to her breasts. Nothing lurid or claiming, but her eyes bolted open.

  He smiled at her and then, holding her attention, he brought the cloth up and over her nipple. An exquisite sensation wracked her. Her jaw dropped and she clutched at his arm. He glanced at the wet spot she’d made and laughed. “Perhaps I should remove my shirt as well.”

  She nearly swallowed her tongue.

  And then she stared as he removed his shirt, revealing an astounding chest—muscled and brown and rippling with te
xture. She could not resist a touch. A caress. She painted him with a wet trail.

  “I like that,” he said.

  “So do I.” She laid her palm flat and dragged it over his fine form. “Are all men so beautiful?”

  He snorted a laugh. “I daresay they are not. Now, lean back and relax so I can finish bathing you before I lose my mind.”

  She shot him a curious glance, but he did not answer her unspoken question. So she complied. She’d liked very much what he had done so far and was curious about what came next. And—

  Oh good glory!

  He swept the cloth over her belly—a rather ineffective attempt at cleaning her—and brought it to that spot between her legs. It took every effort for her not to whip her thighs together, and she was glad she did not when the cloth scraped against the nub throbbing there.

  She’d had no idea, no clue that something so simple could be so utterly exquisite.

  She moaned and arched into his touch. She forgot to keep her eyes closed so she saw it, the expression on his face. The muscles of his face tightened. He swallowed heavily. His gaze bored into hers.

  “Does this please you, my mistress?” he asked, a play on his earlier suggestion that he be her servant.

  “Oh yes.” The words clogged her throat. She had to force them out.

  He touched her again…this time without the cloth abandoning all attempts at pretense. With two fingertips, he circled her, massaged her, all the while watching for her response.

  It was feral.

  Tildy had never known such joy and now that she’d tasted it, she only wanted more.

  But Dev was a tease. He played with her, increasing the pressure until she was a tight ball of nerves, and then moving away, to caress her elsewhere until she calmed. In fact, he nearly drove her mad.

  It was frustrating, because she knew she wanted, needed more, but she had no idea what it was.

  So she punished him.

  She clutched at his arm and dug her nails in, encouraging him, demanding that he do whatever it was she yearned for.

  He leaned farther over the lip of the tub as he worked. His expression firmed. He focused furiously.

  “Dev,” she wailed. “Dev.”

  “Yes, Tildy?”

  “Please!”

  His grin was wicked. “Please? Are you begging?”