The Pleasure King's Bride by Emma Darcy Read Free Book Online Page B

exquisite relief not having to put up defences, to say yes instead of no, to simply let nature take its course without any outside interference. She loved all she knew of Jared King. Tonight she would know more. As much as she could. She’d store it all up in a treasure box of memories and keep it forever.
    Jared put down his chopsticks and nodded to her almost empty plate. “Good?’’
    “Great!” she replied with spontaneous exuberance, not having to guard her words, not having to repress anything for the rest of this night.
    He smiled contentedly, sitting back with his glass of wine, watching her finish the last few morsels. It made Christabel very conscious of what he might be thinking as she ate. Was he remembering how little she wore under her dress? He had to know now, having felt the unrestricted contours when he’d held her. Was he envisaging her naked?
    Her pulse quickened as she set her fork down and picked up her glass, looking at him over the rim of it as she sipped the wine, seeing the dark simmer in his eyes and feeling her stomach curl in anticipation.
    “Shall we leave the table and enjoy the freshness of the rain?” he said, surging to his feet without waiting for a reply.
    The suggestion startled her. “Do you mean...go out in it?” The thunder and lightning had given way to a torrential onslaught that was still pouring down. They’d be soaked in seconds.
    “No. Just to the edge of the veranda.” His mouth curved into a sensual tease as he stepped away from his chair, heading for hers. “I can’t bear having the table between us any longer.”
    “Oh!”
    Her excitement soared as Jared moved to the back of her chair. He dropped a kiss on the top of her hair, his warm lips grazing over the waves springing from its centre parting. “Bring your glass of wine with you,” he murmured persuasively.
    It was still in her hand and she stood with it, responding unthinkingly, drawn by the compelling, seductive energy of the man behind her. He whipped away her chair, curled an arm around her waist and moved her out of the pool of lantern light, down the veranda to a more shadowed area and over to the broad balustrade between the posts.
    The air did smell fresh with the rain, the oppressive heat dispelled and the dust settled. The black sky was still unbroken, no moon, no stars. She could hear the storm-driven waves in the bay below them roaring and hissing. But they were outside things and she was most conscious of Jared, his hand resting on the curve of her waist and hip, his body half behind hers, brushing against it as he reached past her to set his glass of wine down on the flat width of the balustrade.
    Then his arms were wrapped around her midriff, and his cheek was rubbing against her hair, and his mouth was close to her ear, his voice low and husky as he murmured, “You’ve held me away from you so long, I have to know this is real.”
    “Yes,” she whispered, hearing the echo of her own need.
    “I want to breathe in the scent of your hair...feel it, taste it...”
    He trailed hot kisses through it, down her neck, and Christabel instinctively arched back, revelling in the sheer sensuality of his desire for her. She felt him move his thighs apart, nestling her more snugly against him, and one of his hands moved to cup the soft swell of her breast, his thumb sweeping over its peak, fanning it into hard prominence.
    She closed her eyes, wanting to focus on inner sensations, unable to resist rolling her bottom against him, inciting more awareness, exulting in the thought of exciting him. She wanted him to touch her other breast. It felt as though it was swelling, aching to be held and caressed, but he abandoned the one he held, his arms sliding down, hands spreading over her stomach, pressing an acute recognition of his arousal.
    “I need to touch you and it can’t wait,” he warned, his fingers gliding towards her thighs, gathering up the soft fabric of her dress. “Tell me now if you’ve