Part 23 (1/2)

”All right,” he murmured against her mouth. ”If this is what you want, I agree.” Her heart leaped with joy. ”You're going to let me have at your sweet, snug s.e.x anytime I want.” His lips brushed that tantalizing spot under her ear. Her belly fluttered. ”And in turn, I'll be your most ardent lover...make you come for me. Hard. And often.” He drew on her neck. She lost her breath, a fresh surge of raw hunger swamping her senses. ”Agreed?” he asked.

”Yes. Agreed.”

”Good.” She heard the smile in his tone. He bit her earlobe, tearing another gasp from her throat. ”d.a.m.n the celebration... I could be inside of you right now...”

Being in his arms was like being caught in a storm, overwhelming and obliterating. She'd completely forgotten about the celebration. He was expected to be there at the formal commencement of the feast.

Reluctantly, she stepped back. Placing a hand on his chest, she fought to reclaim a semblance of rational composure, trying to calm the urgency pounding in her blood. ”You should go. They await you.”

Simon let out a breath. ”Give me a moment.” Jesus-Christ, her proposition had taken him completely by surprise. He should have refused. But she had made him an offer not even a monk could turn down.

He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the lush vision she made, trying to ignore, with little success, the discomfort of his erection, thick, full.

”Nine hundred ninety-three,” he muttered. ”Nine hundred eighty-six...”

”What are you doing?”

Keeping his eyes closed, knowing that looking at her would only be counterproductive, he said, ”I am counting backwards from one thousand by sevens. And you have made me lose my spot.”

”Why?”

He snapped open his eyes. ”In case you haven't noticed, chere, you have me stiff as a spike. I am trying to combat my rather...amorous state.”

”Oh...” Her cheeks flushed sweetly. ”Nine hundred seventy-nine.”

”Pardon?”

”That is your next number.” She bit her lip, trying to conceal a smile.

He felt a smile tug at his lips too. They both burst into laughter. Some of the tension left his body.

It gave him such delight to see her laugh.

”If your method is unsuccessful,” she said, ”you could try reciting the Greek alphabet.”

He chuckled. ”I'm glad you derive amus.e.m.e.nt from my miserable state.”

She attempted to look contrite. ”I'm sorry for your miserable state.”

”Oh?” He stood up, sporting a mischievous grin, and slowly advanced on her. ”How sorry?”

She took a playful step back. ”Very. I shall make it up to you. I promise.”

He took another step toward her, caught up in her playfulness. ”When?”

She took another step back. ”After the feast.”

He groaned. That seemed like forever. He advanced. ”How?”

She backed into the wall. Her smile faded. Her beautiful eyes darkened with desire. ”Any way you wish...as long as it includes more kissing.”

He stopped in front of her, grinning. ”I believe I can live with those conditions,” he said, enjoying himself. He ran his finger gingerly over the gentle swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, following the contour of her scooped neckline. He heard her breath catch.

His ability to resist her was nominal at best. He didn't have it in him to fight the temptation that was Angelica de Castel anymore. It was too strong. Nothing he did seemed to lessen his need for her or shatter the enchantment.

Clearly, he was on dangerous ground.

She was a n.o.ble. For someone of his social standing, she was forbidden fruit. He prayed that this fascination he had with her would eventually diminish.

He had to hold their relations.h.i.+p to s.e.x and s.e.x alone. This inexplicable allurement had to end. No matter how incredible it felt when he was with her, he had no choice but to cling to what was best. What was best was that by the time he returned to France, the flame of their desire would have burned out. And that he would have lost, by that time, all the invading emotions constricting his heart.

It was the only acceptable outcome. For both of them.

His plan was simple. To enjoy each other fully, extensively, with the goal in mind to cool the pa.s.sion between them that at the moment was scorching hot. In this he couldn't fail. Because there was no future for them. Not for the son of a commoner and the daughter of a count.

”You will make this up to me.” He smiled and took hold of her hand. Pressing a kiss to it, he added, ”In my chamber later tonight.” Still holding her hand, he opened the door and stepped outside. ”Let's join the feast.” Walking briskly toward the merrymaking, he glanced back at the siren of his fantasies. ”Eat quickly.”

Chapter Eighteen.

Some distance away, the rest of the island continued with the celebration, but in the privacy of Simon's chamber, Angelica watched as he closed the door.

They were finally alone.

Antic.i.p.ation gripped her.

Conscious of her cold fingers, she clasped her hands together, trying to warm them. One hand was warmer than the other. It was the hand he'd held as he led her up the stairs to his room.

She took in a quiet breath and let it out slowly, trying to ignore her pounding heart.

He watched her from the door, his head slightly c.o.c.ked. Strands of dark hair rested on one perfect ebony brow, creating such dramatic contrast with his light blue eyes. He was far too handsome. Far too confident. And he had a way of drawing her to him, heart, body, and soul.

Dear G.o.d, had she set herself up for inevitable heartache? How realistic was it to hope that over the next few weeks he would fully engage his heart? What if he held her at arm's length emotionally the entire month? In all the time she'd known him, he'd offered her little personal information. He was even better at keeping secrets and distance than she had been.

She forced back the doubts. He would be all hers for the next few weeks. It was inevitable that they would grow closer. But would she be able to get close enough to claim his heart?

He smiled and slowly advanced. Her stomach fluttered.

His presence beside her during the feast had made it impossible for her to eat. The occasional brush of his thigh, the heat of his regard, and the intermittent caress of his hand on her arm had kept her senses on alert and her body quivering in antic.i.p.ation for what would follow the meal.

And now he was looking at her with the same desire that had been in his eyes all evening.

He stopped before her, their bodies all but touching.

With a gentle stroke of his fingers over her shoulder, he picked up one of her cascading tresses. Silently, he studied it as it curled naturally around his finger. Looking into her eyes, he brushed the lock of her hair against his lips.

She s.h.i.+vered.