Disrobed and Dishonored by Louise Allen Read Free Book Online Page B

been amusing myself things might have gone rather differently.’
    She glared up at him, lips parted, face flushed, the scent of hot, angry woman filling his senses and bringing with it the prickle of awareness that she was not afraid of him, not just angry with him, but that she desired him and that he wanted her. Here and now.
    Sarah gasped as he pushed her back against the buttress, its slight slope bringing his weight down on her, crushing his loins against her pelvis as he spread his legs to trap her. Her wriggling thrust her against him, and he thrust back, gasping as the heat of her met the aching length of his erection, their naked flesh separated only by thin, silk breeches and the flimsy defenses of her gown.
    He trapped her hands above her head, his big hand enveloping both wrists easily, and smiled down into her face, lit by the spill of light from the window above. ‘Now this is amusing myself. Be honest, sweeting: do you want me to let you go?’
    Sarah went still beneath him, her eyes searching his face, her heart beating against his shirtfront. Then her eyelids closed as though they were too heavy and she whispered, ‘No.’
    Shaken by her reaction, he schooled himself to be gentle, lowering his mouth over hers, determined to coax her, but she nipped at his lower lip with sharp teeth, took his mouth with a raw need that was fueled still by anger, and his own frustration rose to meet hers and the kiss became fierce and rough and she matched him, grazing teeth, thrusting, tongues dueling, pressure and demand, with no yielding, no softness.
    Beneath his weight her body bucked, not to throw him off but seeking the friction of his hardness against her soft core. His hand left her breast to pull at her skirts until his fingers touched her thigh and he could push between their straining bodies, find the hot, wet folds and part them.
    Sarah went still, hanging, waiting for the touch he had taught her to expect, but he slipped one finger past the tight, desperate knot of flesh and slid it into her, gasping against her mouth at the sensation, muffling her own cry of shock and arousal as he added another finger, feeling her tighten around him instinctively.
    Her reaction was so arousing he thought he would come just from that alone, and forced himself to stillness, only his mouth ravishing hers, as though to release her would be to cease to breathe. Then she whimpered against his lips and he began to thrust and she arched under him, clenching, matching his strokes until he felt the quivering desperation building, building, and took pity on her, brushing his thumb against her, one touch sending her over into shuddering collapse.
     
    Sarah sagged, her head thrown back against the warm stone, only the weight of Jonathan’s body and his grip on her wrists keeping her upright. The anger had burned away. All she knew was that the man she loved had driven her into a mindless inferno of sensation and need and the impossibly wonderful satisfaction of that need.
    ‘Sarah,’ he murmured against her neck. ‘Sweetheart. Are you all right?’ He released her wrists and her hands fell to his shoulders and he stood upright, bringing her with him.
    ‘Mmm,’ she managed to murmur, every inch of her aware of him, his strength and the scent of aroused man and the hardness pressed against her.
    ‘I didn’t hurt you?’ She shook her head, the world gradually stopping spinning. ‘You were angry. I was, too, because you were. I didn’t know you would be here, any more than you knew I would. Listen, sweet—’ he cradled her against himself, rocking her gently ‘—this can’t go on, we have to talk…to resolve this.’
    ‘No, I don’t want…,’ she began, trying to explain, terrified what his sense of honor might compel him to say. One moment she thought herself in love with a man who knew he could never offer for her, even should he wish to, the next she found he was a man who would feel obliged to do so. Which, her