Was he taller, as well? How could that be?
A rough groan broke the silence of the room. “Cassandra,” he muttered, and suddenly he rolled over and caught her around the waist, carrying her down to the bed. His body was hard and heavy over hers as his mouth closed over hers in the darkness.
Cassandra couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She gasped, and his tongue took advantage of the small sound to slide deep against hers, greedy, hungry. It was overwhelming, overpowering….
Wonderful. She couldn’t believe anyone could kiss like this. Why, oh, why hadn’t she tried kissing strange men sooner? His teeth nipped lightly at her lower lip then his tongue soothed the tiny sting and all she knew was the delicious fire that swept over her skin at that touch.
He tasted of wine and mint, of something dark and rich, and he smelled of sandalwood soap….
Sandalwood? For one flashing instant she remembered the way Ian always smelled, so clean and exotic at the same time. The way his hair felt under her fingertips. Soft, like raw silk. Just like the hair that slid over her skin now as his open mouth traced a hot ribbon of kisses down her neck, over her bare shoulder.
But Lord Phillips’s hair was close-cropped.
Her eyes flew open and she stared down at the head against her shoulder. The dark head. She froze in panic.
“Cassie,” he muttered. “What’s wrong?”
What was wrong? She was in bed with Ian, that was what was wrong!
And yet it felt so horribly, wonderfully right.
Cassandra pushed him away with a shriek. Startled by her sudden move, he fell off her body back to the bed and she sat up straight. She jerked up the sheet to cover herself in her thin chemise, but that unfortunately left Ian quite naked. The beam of moonlight turned his lean, glistening body to pure, molten silver.
And, damn him, he didn’t seem in the least bit concerned that he was naked. He sat up beside her and knelt back on his heels, staring down at her in concern. His hair was tousled from the touch of her fingers.
“Cassie?” he said hoarsely.
“You— What are you doing here?” she stammered.
Much to her horror, a grin touched his lips. “I think that was obvious. I was kissing you, until I was rudely interrupted.”
“But you—you …” Cassandra had no idea what to say, what to do. Nothing in her oh-so-proper upbringing, or her equally proper marriage, had ever prepared her for a situation like this. Finding herself in bed with the wrong man.
The man she had secretly wanted to be in bed with more than anything.
Ian slowly stretched out on the mattress again, his head propped on his folded arms as his beautiful body was spread before her. His broad, smooth chest, tapering to a lean waist and narrow hips, his long, hair-dusted legs, the hard evidence of his arousal …
No! Cassandra snapped her eyes closed. But she could still see him there.
“Expecting someone else, were you?” he said, and he sounded so infuriatingly satisfied with himself.
“This isn’t your room,” she said.
“It is now. And I was just wondering if I should go knock on your door when I fell so inconveniently asleep.” She felt his hand brush lightly over hers where she clutched at the sheet. “I confess, I don’t think I’ve ever been awakened in such a delightful manner before.”
Cassandra shook her head. He sounded like the old Ian again at last, teasing, flirtatious, comfortable. But there was something else there, as well, a dark tension she had never heard from him before. It made her tremble.
“But you don’t want this,” she whispered.
In answer he gently took her hand in his and pulled it away from the linen. He pressed her fingers over his erection, and it felt so hot and velvet-smooth under her touch.
“Does it feel like I don’t want this?” he said hoarsely. “Damn it, Cassie, but when you touch me …”
She could scarcely believe this was happening, that she was with Ian, touching him so intimately. And he was so hard for her. If this was a dream, she didn’t want it to end. Not yet.
She slowly slid her fingers down over him, tracing the length of his manhood before she moved back up again, a bit harder. He groaned, and she felt him jerk against her hand.
“Oh!” she gasped.
“Yes—oh,” he answered, his voice harsh. He twined his fingers in her hair and drew her closer to him, his open mouth pressing to the sensitive curve of her neck just below her ear. “Damn it, Cassie, but you taste delicious. Like vanilla custard.”
“Va-vanilla custard?” she said. Her head feel back, her eyes sliding closed at the feeling of his mouth on her skin. It was so wonderful, it made her feel hot and shivering all at the same time. Her hand fell away from his erection and she braced it on his hair-roughened thigh to keep from falling.
“Mmm-hmm. I always did have a terrible craving for sweets.” Ian trailed a hot ribbon of kisses along her collarbone to the curve of her shoulder as his hand slid over the strap of her chemise. He eased it away from her body, baring her skin inch by inch.
Something deep inside of her screamed at Cassandra that this was Ian touching her naked body, kissing her. Hard for her. That something seemed to watch from a distance as their bodies slid together on the bed, completely aghast at what she was doing. But Cassandra could only hear those protests as a vague murmur. She could only feel Ian’s long, strong fingers on her skin, his mouth on her. Could only want more.
Ian eased her back down to the pillows and drew her chemise over her head, leaving her lying naked beneath him. She had never been completely naked in front of any man before, not even Charles. Her husband had usually lifted her nightdress just enough to bare what he needed, being far too polite to really look at her. For a moment, shyness washed over her and she tried to cover her bare breasts with her hands. Ian had surely seen many beautiful women. What if she disappointed him? She was too thin, her breasts too small.
But he caught her hands in his and held them to the bed. His eyes grew hooded, dark, as he looked down at her. It felt as if he touched her physically with his gaze and she trembled.
“You are so beautiful, Cassie,” he said, in a voice she had never heard from him before. A rough, harsh voice, as if he held himself on a tight tether. His arms tensed on either side of her as he held her hands down, the lean muscles rippling under his smooth, damp skin.
And then he touched her in truth, gently caressing her naked breasts. His fingertips trailed over their curves, slightly callused on her soft skin. His touch swept closer and closer to her aching nipples, teasing and retreating. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, begging him to touch her.
She let her breath out on a sigh when he finally caught one of the pink, hard nipples between his thumb and forefinger, lightly pinching, rolling. Waves of pure, hot pleasure swept through her and her back arched off the bed.
“So beautiful,” he said. “I’ve waited so long….”
He bent his head and caught the nipple he caressed deep in his mouth, sucking, licking. He cupped her other breast on his palm, his fingers teasing its crest. Cassandra cried out, her head tossing on the pillows.
She twisted her fingers in his thick, rough-silk hair and pulled him up to her, sighing as his mouth claimed hers in a fierce, hard kiss. His tongue slid past her lips to taste her and she met him eagerly. He tasted delicious, just as she remembered and had dreamed of ever since that kiss in the rain. She felt a rush of pure,