Page 40 of Beguiling the Baron

Chapter 26

What was he going to do? Tia shivered with delicious imaginings.

“Forgive me, Tia,” Hal whispered as he laid her down on the bed, “I want you more than I can bear. I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to take advantage of you, but I can hardly control myself. My self-imposed celibacy was, it seems, a mistake. I’m hungry for you. I need you to help me be strong.”

“If you want to deny yourself, why am I on your bed?”

He seemed taken aback. Hardly surprising, since her voice sounded like deep velvet. She’d almost purred the words.

“Because I want to see what you look like, naked and aroused, your hair spilling out across the pillow, your eyes dark with longing for me. I’m an artist, Tia. The portrait in my study is my own work. I need to sketch you, paint you, pay homage to your beauty, of both person and character. But I can’t expect you to pose for a nude, so I want to steal this chance to admire you before you return to your room.”

“Why can’t you expect me to pose?” She ran her eyes greedily across the firmly-muscled contours of his body. He was the beautiful one, surely, not she.

“Because observing you naked, for the time it takes to create a sketch, would be temptation beyond endurance. I can barely contain my response to you now. Imagine my suffering if I have to examine you for an entire hour, exploring with my eyes each dip and rise of your form, detailing intimately every inch of you, your breasts, the cleft between your legs, and the curve of your bottom.”

Tia shuddered in wanton anticipation at the image his words conjured up. Yes, she wanted him to do exactly that, examine every part of her with intimate precision, bring every yearning inch of flesh to aching awareness, magnifying the awareness with his hands, as well as his gaze.

“Hal, please. I’m not a living statue—I’m flesh and blood. When you kiss me, I never want it to stop. When you touch me, I want you to touch all of me.”

He shook his head. “I cannot believe it. Tia, I’m so unworthy of you.”

Not true. He wasn’t perfect, but she loved him anyway, with her whole heart. If she told him she loved him, would it help him make up his mind?

Apparently, the expression on her face was all the invitation he needed.

Stretching out alongside her, he captured her mouth with his, kissing her until she thought she would swoon from the glory of it. Next, he started an insistent nibbling at her neck and her earlobe that sent frenzied shivers across her skin.

She wanted him to be kissing more of her. She was a mass of aching demands, her flesh eager for his hands, his mouth, the brush of his hair, his avid gaze.

Brazenly, she pushed a hand between them, reveling in the sinful delight of exploring his muscular torso, the firm flesh of his belly, and the intriguing pathway of dark hair tracking from his navel to his loins. Where her hand encountered an interesting development.

He dragged his mouth from her flesh. “I apologize for my unruly body’s reaction.” His voice was a hoarse rasp. “I seem to have no more dominion over it than I have over you, Miss Galatea Wyndham.”

He ran a finger down her collarbone to her navel, brushing his wrist across one nipple as he went. His finger returned to describe lazy circles around the beaded peak, teasing her mercilessly. When he wet his finger and stroked her sensitive tip, she moaned and arched toward his hand.

Leaning down, he applied his mouth to her aching nipple. Her body clenched and shuddered as she rolled toward him, wanting to press herself once more against his alluring, masculine body, with all of its power and its promise. But his arm held her down, so he could give his full attention to her other breast.

It didn’t seem fair he should be giving so much pleasure to her and receive none himself. Tia worked her fingers into the curly hair above the juncture of his thighs and fastened them around his engorged manhood.

His sharp intake of breath gave her pause. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Have I hurt you?”

“Not at all. I’m surprisingly durable in certain places. If you explore any lower, however, I would ask you to be gentle.”

His mouth sought hers again, and she savored the sensation of running her hand up and down his shaft in time with the thrusting of his tongue. He groaned, pushing against her until she rubbed harder, before probing delicately at the silken tip.

He gasped. “Too much, Tia, too soon. Have pity on me. I can’t control myself if you touch me like that—I’ll spill my seed.”

She flushed at his frankness, then laughed at her absurdity. “Would that be a terrible thing?”

“It would be if I’d not yet had the pleasure of being inside you.”

He wanted to be inside her? How did that work, exactly?

Pressing her close, he kissed her again and pushed one hand between her legs.

“You’re wet,” he breathed.

Wet? What did he mean? “I’m sorry,” she murmured against his neck.