Page 74 of As the Devil Dares

“An Italian opera singer?” she challenged and ran her fingers appreciatively through his hair as he took her nipple fully into his mouth and suckled at her.

“Nothing puts more fire into a man’s blood than hearing all those high notes fall from a woman’s lips.” As he laved her left nipple, his other hand moved up to caress her right one. His thumb strummed across the taut bud as he teased, “You can’t expect to ask a man to give that up for something as inconsequential as marriage.”

“Of course not,” she agreed with mock solemnity. “That would be like asking the tide not to rise or the sun not to set.”

He grinned against her breast. “An act of futility?”

“An act against nature.” When he shifted to worship the other breast, she sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck to keep him close, then whispered sincerely, “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

Stunned by that, he stilled as the simple compliment warmed his insides. Perhaps she held an affection for him after all. And at that, his heart skipped for an altogether new reason.

He buried his face in her shoulder. He felt satiated and relaxed. No. So much more than that—he felt happier than he’d been in a very long time. The fact that Mariah, of all women, was responsible for it made his head spin.

She drew a deep breath, then admitted softly, “I think Diana was in love with you.”

At the somber tone of her voice, he raised his head and gazed down at her. Then frowned. Because it wasn’t insecure jealousy that he saw in her now, but something else…something warm and affectionate that made him tremble. “What makes you so certain?”

She stared into his eyes, so intensely that she stole his breath away. “Because I—” She cut herself off. Whatever she was about to say was lost as she amended with a smile, “Because I’ve heard all your mother’s stories about you and—”

He kissed her to silence her, then lingered with his mouth against hers, drinking in the spicy-sweetness of her kiss until he went light-headed with arousal. “Please don’t mention my mother when you’re naked with me.”

She laughed, then wiggled wantonly and elicited a groan from him. “You expect this to happen again, then?”

He grinned down at her. “Sweet Lucifer, I hope so.”

She inhaled sharply as he tenderly traced his fingertips across her nipples, then closed her eyes and whispered, “So we’ve become lovers, then.”

“We have.” He lowered his head to dance kisses across her bared breasts, unable to get enough of her. Lovers…his lover. A satisfying sense of masculine possession flamed inside him.

“Good,” she whispered, and he thrilled at that single word, reveling in her uninhibited boldness with him.

This was what attracted him to her, that the same beautiful woman who could be so prickly and distant held within her a fierce passion waiting to be unlocked and a vulnerable heart that she’d now placed into his care. So many facets to her that every moment brought a new discovery about the woman beneath.

“But I won’t…surrender,” she panted out, her voice full of resolve even as she arched herself against him. “No matter what…happens between us…”

“No matter what?” Devilishly, he slipped his hand between her legs. “Even this?” He stroked his thumb across the little nub buried at the top of her folds, and her hips bucked.

She tightened her arms around his shoulders and buried her face against his neck. “Even that,” she forced out. Then she inhaled sharply and shivered. “Oh, Robert, do that again!”

Biting his cheek to keep from laughing, he did as she bade. This time, a whimper of need fell from her lips.

“You’re not my enemy, Mariah,” he murmured against her temple as he slowly withdrew his hand. Making love to her again was so very tempting. But it was too soon, and she would be too sore. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, in any way. “You mean so much more to me than that.”

She pulled back just far enough to look up at him, and her eyes searched his face, as if she couldn’t quite believe him. “Do I?”

“A great deal,” he assured her, tenderly brushing an ebony curl from her cheek.

Yet her face fell as she whispered, “But you don’t trust me.”

“I do,” he insisted, having given her no reason to doubt him in that.

But she slowly shook her head, and sadness darkened her face as she whispered, “Not about your father. You still haven’t told me everything about the day he died.” She hesitated. “Or why your mother thinks you blame yourself.”

He froze, his hand stilling against her cheek. The soft accusation in her words cut into him like shards of glass, and he hesitated, needing a moment to steady himself before explaining, “I don’t want to burden you when you won’t understand.”

Her eyes softened as they searched his face, her fingers combing tenderly through the hair at his temple. “Are you so very hard to understand, Robert?”

His chest squeezed painfully, not to hold in the anguish he’d suffered for the past two years but with a desperate desire to share it. Perhaps she would understand the horror of that day and the weight of the blame he carried. After all, she knew the frustration of trying to please a father, just as he did, and she knew the loss of a parent.