A Taste of Desire

chapter 21



“Why do you continue to turn up in all the places you shouldn’t?” Thomas stood framed in the doorway, bathed in the iridescent light of the gas wall sconces in the hall, and spoke in a tone of dark amusement.

Shuddering to a stop, Amelia sought safety on the laddered rail of the footboard behind her—she’d only managed to get that far. The wood was solid and smooth under her fingers unlike the erratic beat of her heart. This was not at all the way she’d imagined their new start.

“I-I didn’t see you—I thought you had gon—I mean, the cat—” Amelia ceased speaking. What was the point? She’d heard animals could smell fear. In that case, she was amazed that every animal in the environs of Devon wasn’t growling at her feet.

He chuckled softly, slowly closing the door before turning to advance toward her with measured strides. “Oh, please do continue. I do love it when you stutter.”

Amelia quelled a dismayed groan, edging away from the safety of the footboard, intent on reaching the door, but a glance deemed her exit too far away to risk a mad dash.

Thomas shot a glance at the door and then back to her. He circled to come and stand behind her. “Is that really what you want to do—run?” His voice had a rumbling, sensuous quality. “You know what I believe, Amelia?” he whispered, lowering his head until his mouth feathered the rim of her right ear and his masculine scent infused into every pore of her body in sensual suffocation.

He was taunting her, damn him. “No, I don’t care to know.” But the hitch in her voice belied her words. She gave her head two determined shakes, as if that would sufficiently rid her of the languor that stole through her, softening her, weakening her.

“I believe you’re here awaiting me.” He kept his voice low and soft, his every word misting her ear in a sweet caress.

Amelia’s nipples tightened and pushed against the soft muslin cloth of her dress. “I came because of the cat,” she whispered, ducking her head to escape his warming breath on her face.

“Then why are you making no real effort to escape?” He turned her around to face him and placed one finger lightly on her parted lips when she attempted to speak. It would be a mistake for them to start like this. “No, don’t utter another word. We both know you’re here for this.”

Without giving her a chance to object, he pinned her arms to her sides while his tongue breeched the boundary of lips and teeth. When his tongue touched hers, Amelia’s knees wobbled. He tasted that rich and decadent; it felt that right. She encouraged him with an impassioned slide of her tongue over his. A shudder rifled through his body sending an answering heat pulsing between her thighs. This kiss had no limit. It blotted every thought from her mind, except the hard male form gathering her ever closer and bending her neck back.

Never had she experienced this kind of passion except in his arms, with his lips on hers. His hand moved to cup her breasts, and the layers of fabric covering her could not mute the kind of pleasure that caused her to whimper and tear her mouth from his, only to desperately seek it out again after she caught her breath and needed him again.


Nothing had prepared Thomas for the sheer wildness of their embrace. She was on fire for him, and he couldn’t get enough of her mouth, of her tongue, of her breasts, of everything she had to offer. Plastering her against the length of him, his erection stabbed at her belly with hard insistence as his hips imitated a sexual dance older than time.

Amelia responded with a slow, helpless roll of her hips, threatening to send him over the precipice of sanity. With a harsh groan and his breathing already laboring as if he had just run a mile, he tore his mouth from hers and swung her effortlessly up into his arms. He strode to the bedside, deposited her onto the mattress, and wasted no time in joining her. Under his deft fingers, he removed the dress from her body with the ease of a man who had more than a passing knowledge of women’s garments. Each scrap of silk and muslin he removed revealed breathtaking creamy flesh. Legs, long, slender, and exquisitely formed, snagged his breath, but it was the sight of the dark triangular patch of hair at the apex of her thighs that threatened to rob him of all reason and control.

His cock reared up and fought to split the seams of the front placket of his trousers. So intense was the sensation snaking through him, Thomas had to grit his teeth to contain a groan. He could think of nothing beyond driving himself into her, burying himself as deep as he could.

He managed to remove his hands from her quivering form long enough to divest himself of his clothes. Several shirt buttons popped in his haste, as Amelia lay sprawled on her back watching him with a decidedly bemused look on her face. He paused, momentarily transfixed at the sight she made, her lips parted and her eyes darkened to navy orbs. The glide of her tongue along the edge of her kiss-plumped lips jolted him from his daze and back into action.

He tossed his shirt to the floor, and came briefly to his feet to kick off the black wool trousers. His drawers came next, shoved over his hips with impatient hands. Amelia gave a sharp inhalation at the sight of his arousal springing out, so swollen and hard as to be painful. Debilitating him in a pleasurable kind of pain.


Amelia couldn’t take her eyes off his erection, long, thick, and heavily veined. Panic welled up inside of her. He could not possibly think he could put that in her. Dear Lord, there was no way it would fit. Her gaze flew to his taut visage. She instinctively tried to shield her nakedness from his devouring stare, one hand flying to try to span both breasts, while the other covered her privates.

“No, don’t hide from me,” he soothed, gently prying her hands from her body to secure them above her head while wedging a place for himself between her thighs. The heat of his erection settled heavily on the tender skin above the fleece of hair covering her sex, the contact inflaming her senses, sending her back into the intoxicating arms of passion.

He lowered his head and began tracing soft kisses from her shoulder to the swell of her breast. His mouth tracked up to a ruched nipple. Amelia clamped down hard on her lower lip. He swiped the taut bud with his tongue until her back bowed, forcing both the nipple and surrounding aureole into his mouth. With a muffled groan, he ended the torment and began to suckle. Amelia let out a whimper, her breath rhythmic pants. Jerking her hands from his grip, she plowed her fingers through strands of golden hair to imprison him against her breast.

For endless minutes, he urged her squirming body to a heightened state of arousal. Amelia had never known such pleasure existed. Thomas now took her on a journey of hitherto untapped sensations, which had her keening and gasping beneath him. Widening her legs, she arched her back and writhed as she tried to trap his hard flesh where she needed it most—inside her.

“Easy, Princess, easy.” Despite his soothing words, his voice came out strained, as if he was holding onto his control by the slimmest of margins. “I will give you what you want.”

If she had been in her right mind, she would have been appalled at his words. Appalled at her wanton exhibition. But she was mindless. Nothing mattered but the fire he had started that now raged hot between her thighs.

With one final flick at her pink bud, he sent shards of sensual pleasure from her nipple straight to the heart of her. Thomas continued his trek downward, dotting her quivering belly with languid kisses. A puff of air rushed uncontrolled from her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered closed, her hands still clutching the back of his head.

He reached the downy tuff of hair between her thighs, and scooted down, widening them in the process, giving him the most intimate view anyone had ever had of her. His tongue came out and touched his upper lip.

Amelia realized his intent and immediately tried to push his head away. Her face flamed with embarrassment. “No, no, you can’t. You shouldn’t—”

The first probe of his tongue on the swollen folds of her sex nearly sent her senses spinning. Shock and embarrassment quickly gave way to the most delicious, unbearable pleasure that shot through her like a lightning bolt. Her hands fell to her sides as he took full reign, using his mouth to master her body.

Long and languid strokes of his tongue continued unabated on her slick, wet flesh. Amelia couldn’t think, she could only feel. Being loved in this fashion was lurid and shameful … and exquisite. While he feasted on her, her hips tilted forward to offer him more. The sensation of a band being pulled tighter and tighter gripped her, refusing to release her. Her body spiraled upward, searching for something else. Then he parted her pink flesh and flicked the little nub at the hood of her sex and Amelia let out a high, keening cry as she heaved beneath him, nearly dislodging his mouth. But he held on, his tongue wringing a cry from her that ended in a long lusty moan. A paroxysm of pleasure overtook her, and she could do nothing but succumb blissfully, helplessly.

Spent in the aftermath of her first orgasm, Amelia was insensate to her surroundings, everything, until she felt the thrust of his manhood at her entrance. Then he was plunging into her. She winced and gasped at the burn of his possession. It had come so unexpectedly. She hadn’t had time to prepare herself for the stinging pain, nor the tightness of the fit.


If Thomas hadn’t been so caught up in the sweet, unbearably tight clasp of her body, he would have halted—or at least paused—when he met the resistance of her maidenhood, before tearing through it like a marauding bull. But with Amelia, he had no such restraint. And even when his mind fully grasped that he had just taken her virginity, he could not stop the advance and retreat of his hips as he plowed into her. All he could do was try to make it as good for her as he could.

He sought her lips and caught her anguished sob in his mouth as his tongue mimicked the mating of their bodies. She had initially gone stiff with the pain of his penetration, but under his avid ministrations, her body began to relax. Soon Thomas was tearing his lips from hers, ducking his head, and encompassing her nipple in his mouth to suckle strongly. Amelia let out a hoarse moan, allowing her legs to encircle his hips, drawing him deeper into her.

Thomas quickened his pace, now slamming into her with such ferocity he had no doubt he’d leave her sore. The knowledge, however, did not stop him. And to his disbelief, he felt her stiffen and claw at his shoulders as she reached her peak once again. With that, his body convulsed and shattered in a release so staggering in its intensity, he let out a guttural cry that exclaimed his unadulterated satisfaction.

It took a while for him to recover from what had just been the most mind-blowing climax of his life—thus far. Only then did he realize he was resting heavily on Amelia’s delicate frame, his mouth nuzzling her breast.

Not a man who liked to cuddle as so many women craved after sexual intercourse, Thomas was disconcerted to discover he didn’t immediately want to bolt from the bed. Yes, it was his bed, but he had no desire to hustle Amelia back to her chamber. This, of course, was downright terrifying.


Good Lord, what have I done?

Amelia lay stiff beneath Thomas as he remained buried inside her. Lord, there hadn’t even been talk of the future, no promise of marriage, just the most exquisite pleasure her body had ever known. This was not how it was supposed to be.

Slowly, he slid from atop her, his chest hairs abrading her nipples, his sweat-dampened abdomen sliding over hers in a sensuous dance. Once again, Amelia could feel herself drowning into the misty haze of passion—lurid, decadent passion.

“A virgin.”

His tone said it all, hushed and incredulous. But it jerked her back to the harsh edges of reality. Not anymore she wasn’t.

Soon mortification replaced the vestiges of ardor. Amelia couldn’t bear to look at him, much less respond. She heard, rather than saw, him get out of the bed, taking all of his heat with him. She caught the edge of the counterpane and draped it over herself.

Thomas came into view as he padded toward the dresser. Amelia knew she should avert her gaze, but the sight of his buttocks, flesh and muscle sculpted to magnificence, captivated her. He opened the top drawer and yanked out a small piece of toweling and with it, several envelopes fluttered to the carpet.

Clasping the counterpane tightly to her breasts, she came up on the bed, her attention now riveted to the floor.

Thomas shot a quick glance at her, let out a mild curse, and started grabbing for the envelopes.

“No!” Heedless of her state of undress, she scrambled from the bed to his side, having discarded the cover in her haste. She grabbed his wrist, stopping his hand in midair, and stared at the now crumpled papers in his hand and the third, which lay on the carpet pointing at him like an accusing finger.

“These are my letters,” she said softly. While her mind reeled, her heart echoed a hollow beat in her ear. In black ink, Lord Clayborough’s name and address stood in stark relief against the pale yellow envelopes. Her handwriting. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he hadn’t received them. Thomas had had them all along.

“Amelia—”

Amelia dropped his wrist as if she held a vile object in her hand. Blindly, she turned, now acutely aware of her nakedness. Her eyes searched the floor frantically until she spotted her discarded clothes. She quickly donned her dress in several jerky motions. She had no time to waste on petticoats and flimsy undergarments when her sanity depended on removing herself from his chamber as expeditiously as possible.

Before she could move out of arm’s reach, Thomas’s hand shot out and caught her by the upper arm. Amelia halted but kept her head angled from him. She’d learned it was useless to fight against his strength.

“Amelia, listen to me. I was—”

“Save your excuses, my lord.” Her civil tone masked her growing hysteria. All she wanted to do was throw something, rage and scream at him.

His hold on her arm tightened. Amelia turned to regard him directly for the first time since she’d discovered the depth of his deceit. He didn’t look guilty. He looked like a frustrated, angry man whose coming defense of his actions would ring as absurd as he appeared indignant. He wore the expression her father had worn when she’d discovered, weeks after her attempted elopement with Joseph Cromwell, that he had been confiscating his letters.

“I gather you did this under my father’s directive?”

Thomas didn’t immediately respond, and that in itself was response enough for her. She tugged her arm free. He relinquished his hold and then snatched up the piece of toweling that had fallen on the floor and secured it about his waist.

Amelia turned away not only because she couldn’t bear the sight of him, but because he stood there arrogantly unselfconscious. “He’ll be proud to know you intend to follow in his footsteps in every way.”

“Can you honestly say you would be happy with Clayborough?” He snorted in disbelief. “Would you have given your virginity to me if you truly loved the man? Right now you should be thanking me for preventing you from making the biggest mistake of your life.”

Amelia whipped around to glare at him. “You pompous bastard! I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life, and far from preventing me, you spurred me on and had a grand time while you were doing it.”

“I wasn’t the only one,” he said darkly.

Too angry to be embarrassed, her response was fierce. “As long as this remains between just the two of us, we are safe. More than anything, I want to forget this ever happened. We’ll not speak a word of this again, agreed?”

For many moments, Thomas stared at her without answering, his expression unreadable. He ended the silence with a slow nod. “Yes, I suppose that would be for the best. No one wants to be reminded of their mistakes.”

His words clobbered her, effectively releasing her from the invisible hold he had on her. Amelia hastened from the room, allowing herself the luxury of a ragged breath only once she was secured within the thick walls of her bedchamber.