Damon evidently took her silence for agreement, for lazy passion glowed in his eyes as he continued.
“If I were to make love to you, it would be in a soft bed, unlike our hasty coupling in a balloon gondola. That was remarkable, certainly, but not the ideal setting. First, I would undress you slowly and kiss every inch of your lovely body, starting with your breasts. I would begin by caressing them, coddling them. Then I would lift them to my mouth and suckle your nipples.”
Her toes curled in her slippers at the very thought. She could almost feel the lush pressure of his mouth on her already hard nipples.
“I would make your breasts ache, Elle. They would feel heavy and hot in my hands… And I can envision your response… the soft sounds you make when I suck them.”
So could she. Yet it was a mistake to listen to him, Eleanor warned herself. She knew how persuasive, how sensual Damon could be. But she didn't stop him as his voice went on describing how it would be for them.
“Next I would slide my hand between your thighs and find you wet and ready for me. I would stroke your center with my fingers, till you were whimpering with hunger for me. And then I would set my mouth on you and use my tongue to arouse you even further.”
Eleanor's stomach clenched as she imagined Damon stroking her with his tongue as he'd done before.
“I can hear your gasps of pleasure as I savor your taste. Then when you are half mad with need, I would enter you slowly, prolonging the moment. I would fill you with my cock, Elle, so that we moved together, as if we were one person, so that you couldn't tell when I end and you begin…”
Heat flushed her body, while between her legs desire throbbed. Damon was spinning a web of fascination around her, captivating her with his voice, his eyes. Those dark eyes held a memory of their first time together four days ago, reminding her how incredible it had been between them.
And his recitation was having a similar effect on Damon, Eleanor realized when he parted the folds of his dressing gown. “See what you have done to me, love… My loins are full and aching for you.”
Rising from his groin was the bold evidence of his sexual arousal, long and huge and swollen. She couldn't help staring at that rigid male flesh, remembering how it had felt moving inside her.
Then Damon untied the sash at his waist and shrugged off his dressing gown. When he rose, something hot and molten unfurled in her belly. It was the first time she had seen him entirely naked, and she looked her fill. Firelight sculpted his sensual, strong-boned body… his broad shoulders, his finely muscled chest and taut stomach, his narrow hips, his long, powerful legs.
Damon stood very still, letting her take in every detail, his gaze heated and compelling as he observed her helpless fascination.
If any man could be called beautiful, it was Damon. His chiseled body was perfect, hard and vital, rawly masculine. Eleanor felt a fierce urge to touch him, to caress him. Then her gaze dropped, fixing again on the swirl of dark hair that cradled his hardness. The evidence of his desire stood rigid, flushed, thickly engorged…
Her breath caught in her throat even before he reached out to take her wineglass from her. Setting it on the mantel, he gently grasped her wrists and drew her to her feet.
“D-Damon,” she stammered, her protest husky and uneven.
“Touch me, Elle,” he coaxed, pressing her palms against his bare chest, inviting her hands to explore the hard expanse. “Touching is allowed, sweeting. I am your husband and you are my wife.”
His flesh was smooth and hot; sleek muscles rippled and played beneath satiny skin, and Eleanor couldn't resist doing his bidding.
He was an unholy temptation, she thought, feeling dazed.
Then he bent close, so that his breath ruffled her hair. “You smell like sin, wife,” he murmured, nuzzling her temple. “Like rain and sweet, warm woman…”
His scent was sinful, too. A hint of musky desire rose between them, while heat radiated upward from his body, enveloping her and holding her spellbound.
When he drew back, the look she saw in his eyes made her heart thud erratically. Then Damon untied the ribbons of her dressing gown and parted the lapels, exposing her chemise. Her nipples were excruciatingly hard and blatantly outlined beneath the fine cambric.
“If I were to make love to you, this is how I would start…”
Lifting a suggestive finger, he found her parted lips and traced slowly downward along her throat. His touch was light, delicate… searing. Then raising both hands to fondle her breasts, he traced her shape through the fabric, rubbing his palms with teasing pressure over the mounds.
An intense surge of pleasure rippled through Elea nor as he lightly squeezed each nipple, but she couldn't bring herself to object. She wanted to feel his hands all over her body.
“Let me keep you warm, Elle.”
Her heart was pounding wildly when he shifted his hands. Sliding them around her hips to cup her buttocks, he pulled her firmly against his tightly muscled frame, into the cradle of his thighs. “Feel how much I want you.”
One of his knees separating hers, he pressed his arousal against her stomach, and Eleanor forgot to breathe. She could feel the rigid, heated length of his sex branding her like hot steel. And the thought of him moving inside her, completing her, made her heart labor even harder. She was overwhelmed with longing, the burning need in her loins to feel him driving deep into her, to feel his thick shaft filling her, plunging rhythmically… Which was precisely what he wanted her to feel, a protective voice warned in her head.
Damon knew how desperately she longed for him, how she craved his passion.
Yet she was stronger than that, Eleanor scolded herself. She wouldn't give in to his enchantment this time. She wouldn't let him win, wouldn't let herself get lost in the fire in his eyes.
On the contrary, she had to turn the tables on him. She had to make Damon feel the same unquenchable yearning for her, so that someday he would come to love her.
“Perhaps you are right,” she whispered, her voice an unsteady rasp. “We need a bed.”
Her apparent change of heart seemed to take him by surprise, but he didn't question her when she took his hand and led him to the bed.
“Lie down, my lord husband.”
Damon obeyed, climbing onto the high bed and stretching out on his back.
He looked starkly beautiful, sprawled there on the dark gold counterpane. Shadow and light roamed over him, accentuating the strong, sleek lines of his body.
Eleanor felt a fresh surge of primitive arousal just looking at him-and so did he, judging by the heat in his eyes.
She took a deep breath, though, bracing herself against her yearning, and placed a palm on his broad chest.
Feeling the firm resilient muscle beneath the warm velvet of his skin, she stroked him for a moment, her touch light and caressing, but then her hand stilled.
“Damon, do you recall how you always manage to fluster me by kissing me to distraction?”
“Yes, love.”
“This time I mean to do the same to you.”
Bending down to him, she took his lips in a long, sweet, lingering kiss.
Then despite her own yearning to continue, she tore herself away.
“That is all for now, husband. I told you, I am not interested in a marriage of convenience. However, if you ever think you can give me more-if you come to want a true marriage as I do-pray, let me know.”
With that she turned and fled to the safety of her own bedchamber.
She had violated Fanny's precepts with a ven geance, Eleanor knew, by declaring her objective so boldly, but she couldn't bring herself to regret her blunder.
It was time Damon learned just how serious she was about wanting him as a true husband and not merely a lover. About wanting his heart and not only his body.
Dismayingly, however, the choice was entirely his to make.