“I do so.”
“No, you don’t. You have too much fire and passion in your veins.”
He bent his head again, this time brushing her lips with a much more tender kiss. “Don’t you want to know what it is like to be fully a woman? What it is like to desire a man? To feel passion and pleasure and physical fulfillment?”
Arabella felt herself wavering, yet her long-held scruples stopped her from yielding. “I cannot make love to you, Marcus! It would be too scandalous.”
“If you never intend to marry, what difference does it make if you keep your virginity?”
It was a rational argument, Arabella knew. And the truth was, she did want to know about passion. To know what she was missing in life. To experience the kind of intense pleasure Fanny had claimed was possible between lovers.
Arabella had no doubt that Marcus could show her. And she would likely never have another chance. At least not where she could be assured of keeping any sinful transgressions secret. As her guardian, Marcus was perhaps even more concerned for her reputation than she was, so he would do his best to remain discreet.
While she debated, however, he took the choice from her. Arabella felt herself being lowered to the blanket. Then he followed her down, stretching out beside her, his body half covering hers.
“I mean to use my hands and my mouth together this time,” Marcus murmured against her lips. “The power of touch and taste combined.”
She pressed her own hands against his chest, struggling for willpower, but he caught her lower lip between his teeth and tugged with soft nips. When Arabella gave a little whimper, his tongue soothed the sensitive flesh before dipping slowly, insistently, inside her mouth.
Finding him impossible to resist, she gave a tiny, shuddering sigh of defeat and returned his kiss helplessly.
His mouth was magical…and so was his touch, Arabella thought long moments later. While his kisses enchanted, his hand moved on her throat, then lower, his long fingers stroking her skin as he explored the contours of her breasts beneath the round neckline of her gown.
Shortly Arabella gave a start upon realizing that Marcus had lowered her bodice and chemise to expose her nipples, but the teasing caress of his fingers on her skin soothed her, his palm molding the ripe swells as his hot lips worked their spell. Arabella found herself arching against his touch, seeking more of the delicious pleasure he was arousing in her.
It was some time before he paused in his seduction and raised his head to contemplate her. His gaze was frankly, sharply male as it fixed on her bare breasts, surveying the high mounds crested with rosy nipples.
Arabella felt herself flushing. She was lying there wantonly, accepting his brazen scrutiny without protest. Yet when she made to cover her breasts with her hands, he caught her wrists and held them away.
“No, let me look.”
It was arousing in itself, Arabella realized, to have Marcus studying her body. She never would have believed a simple look could be so titillating. The heat of his gaze, combined with the warm sunlight on her skin, made her restless and feverish.
And then his fingers joined his gaze, his knuckles brushing over her tautly straining nipples, dredging a soft gasp from her.
His eyes sparking at her helpless response, he plucked at the tight buds, pinching lightly and then soothing with his thumbs. Arabella nearly moaned at the sweet torment. “Marcus…you make me feel so…”
“So what?”
“Hot…like all my senses are inflamed.”
His eyes darkened further. “I know.”
He desired her, she knew. The thought gave her a powerfully feminine feeling to combat the vulnerability she felt lying here at his mercy. Determinedly, she returned his gaze, vowing she wouldn’t run this time.
His eyes held hers, hot and blue, as he reached for the hem of her gown and drew it up above her knees. Then, very gently, he ran his hand up her stockinged calf to the bare skin of her thigh.
Arabella tensed until Marcus bent his lips to her again. “Just relax, love, and let me caress you,” he murmured against her throat as he pushed her skirts higher.
What he asked was impossible, for when he eased her thighs open with his knee, the pressure on the sensitive core of her sent a shock of fire rippling through her.
He touched her frantic pulse with a stroke of his tongue while his hand dipped between her legs to find the wetness there. When she whimpered at his scandalous touch, Marcus kissed her again, a slow, lazy, possessive kiss that had her shivering. At the same time he used his fingers to stroke her, rimming the sleek cleft of her femininity, teasing the tiny bud hidden there.
Completely breathless now, Arabella reached for him and clutched at his shoulders. Her body was feverishly hot, straining against his hand as he continued his delicate ministrations…drawing his fingers between her feminine folds, cupping her naked center with his palm. When she began to pant, he drank deeply of her mouth, as if he treasured every gasp she surrendered to him.
And it was a surrender, Arabella realized dazedly, unable to understand why she had fought him for so long.
She was filled with dismay when his kiss suddenly ended, then startled when he unexpectedly transferred his attentions below her waist. Dipping his dark head, Marcus settled his mouth on her inner thigh and began moving upward, tracing the earlier path of his fingers, trailing searing kisses on her skin.
It shocked Arabella when he pushed her skirts above her hips, baring all her secrets, and shocked her more when she felt his warm breath dampen the golden curls at the juncture of her thighs. She trembled violently as she realized his intention. He meant to kiss her there!
At the tender flick of his tongue over her sensitive flesh, she jerked, lifting her hips halfway off the blanket.
“Steady,” he whispered, his hands moving to her thighs to hold her down.
His tongue stroked her, probing her folds. Then he drew the swollen bud into his mouth as his middle finger slipped inside her.
The sensation was incredible-his hard finger sheathed in her flesh, his scalding mouth working its magic on her sex.
Her breath coming in hoarse whimpers, Arabella shut her eyes, her head shifting desperately back and forth on the blanket. She was unbearably hot, filled with tension and excitement and wild anticipation.
Her hands clenching spasmodically, she gripped Marcus’s shoulders, clinging blindly, seeking more of this fevered pleasure that had caught her up in a maelstrom of desire and frustration. She needed something she couldn’t even begin to imagine, something that was clawing at her, tearing her apart.
Yet Marcus wouldn’t give her surcease. When she uttered a low, keening moan, the growl in the back of his throat signaled his approval. He continued laving her, caressing her, arousing and teasing and tormenting until she thought she might die from the wild pleasure he had kindled in her.
Then suddenly her senses exploded. Arabella cried out as reality splintered into a thousand sensual fragments of pleasure and her entire world dissolved in pulsing heat.
She was only dimly aware of the passage of time. Even when her pounding heart slowed, she lay there limp and unmoving. Her whole body felt gloriously weak and blissful from the ecstasy Marcus had given her.
When finally she regained her senses, it was to find him stretched out beside her, watching her tenderly.
“See now what you have been missing?”
Yes, she saw very clearly. His lovemaking had stunned her. She’d been overwhelmed by a storm of emotion and sensation.
This was what made sensible women turn insensible, Arabella realized. Yet her insensibility had a great deal to do with Marcus himself. He was undoubtedly a magnificent lover.
“It is no wonder,” she murmured hoarsely, “that females fall all over themselves trying to attract your attention.”