Bitten Too (5 page)

Her lids lowered halfway, and her thighs relaxed some. "You feel it, too?"

How could he help it?
It
cycles regulated h
is entire existence. "Yes. Ease my suffering. Let me touch you."

She inhaled through her mouth and spread her legs. "I'm beyond wicked," she said, closing her eyes.

"Lovely, Yasmine." He inched along the linen of her bloomers to the opening that offered her pussy. "You are the least wicked person I
know
."

He took her lips the instant his finger entered her hot, slick crease. Her body shuddered, and she moaned quietly into his mouth. Stroking through her wet folds, he put a hand to her back and enjoyed the writhing his efforts produced.

His cock hardened. His body quickened.
His thoughts centered on
how much he wanted to remove his trousers' panel and thrust into her quim. He wouldn't push her that far, however.
T
hat she allowed even this
astounded him
.
The moon's seduction influenced her
far more than he'd thought. Or
did
something else force her past the walls of moral resistance?

He circled his finger around her pleasure nub. Her hips began a rhythmic undulation upon the bench. As he encouraged her clit out from under its hood, he added effort to his kiss. He urged her backward, dominating her.

She was no kitten, though. When he caressed his finger over her exposed clitoris, she grabbed his shoulders and sent her tongue into his mouth. She groaned, a sexy sound that
shut down his thoughts and shot
a
n
intense
ache of need into his hard-on.

He allowed a few more strokes of tongue and finger then wrenched his mouth from hers. He struggled for breath. His fingers still worked at her enticing pussy.

Each pass of his hand caused delicious tremors in her. Above the gathered bodice of her gown, the swell of her breasts shimmied beautifully. Her countenance tightened at the same time her mouth softened and opened. Her head fell backward. She clung to his shoulders.

"Jorge." She drew upon three long inhales. "Please. Stop."

Reluctantly, he withdrew his fingers. He buried his face in her voluptuous décolletage and placed a kiss into her sweet cleavage. If only he could stop time and
bury
his rigid erection into that heavenly depression between her firm tits. Or better, go to his knees and taste her spicy excitement. He'd give a great deal to have her legs around him as he licked her to orgasm.

Unfortunately, they passed under the stone arch marking the entrance to Grauwolf Haus. He helped her right her gown while willing his cock to flaccid disappointment.

"You drive me to distraction," he said low, his voice ragged with unsatisfied need.

She cleared her throat and pressed slender fingers to her cheeks. "I won't say what you drive me to, but it's not good. This is surely the path to destruction."

"Come inside with me," he said, loath to part with her after such an encounter.

"No." She turned her attention to the mansion.

What could he say to make her stay? "I'd like to speak with you."

"There can be no casual conversation between us, Jorge. We've gone too far in our inappropriate intimacy."

"I don't wish to make idle chitchat, Yasmine. Please." The carriage came to a halt at the front, but he put his head out and told the driver to continue around to the rear.

"This is about Youel, isn't it?" She studied him, though she bore kindness in her visage.

"Yes." The carriage stopped and the door opened. "He's the reason I'm in Rift. I need your help. I’m asking for a few minutes. Nothing more." His member relented, and he sighed in relief. He'd dreaded walking into his aunt's house with a hard-on.

"Very well." She accepted a servant's arm and alighted to the lawn.

When he stepped out, he gave her his arm. The second her hand landed on his sleeve, a bolt of electricity jolted him. She stiffened and sucked air between her teeth. They both turned simultaneously toward the ghost of a moon in the blue, late-morning sky.

If he never saw her again, she'd haunt him for the rest of his life. He couldn't let that happen.

She cut her gaze his way, a knowing in her glance.

Had he ruined
any chance
for them?
I'm a fool
. She was a lady and a truly fine person. Rather than courting her properly, he'd disrespected her at every opportunity. He'd treated her like a passing diversion. How would he fix this?
Could
he? Jorge held the garden door open for her, and she preceded him into the morning room.

Chapter Five

Just inside, she let go of his arm and hung near the door. "You're mistaken in your brother's character." Sadness
rumpled
her brow
and softened her large eyes
.

"What do you
know
of Youel?" A shiver ran up his neck and into his hair. He fisted his hands.

"
H
e treated my friend abominably, and he had ill intentions in terms of Rift. Intentions that would've harmed my family and me had he succeeded." Her chin lifted a full inch.

"You
know
nothing." He grabbed her wrist to keep her near.

She put cool fingertips to the back of his clutching hand. "
I'm not blind
." She met his stare, but hers held tenderness. "Do you think I could live in Rift among our nobility and
not
realize
? I'd have to be a simpleton."

His angry heart lost some of its heat. "
Y
ou're certainly no ninny." How much did she understand?

"I
know
who you are, Jorge.
What
you are. I won't help you seek revenge on a brother who'd have stabbed you in the back had you tried to prevent his plan. He was ambitious in the worst way."

He shook his head, though a suspicion of truth in her statements pierced him in the chest. "No. You're wrong." He fought pain,
sinking teeth into his
lips.

"You're so unlike him."

"Don't say that. I practically raised him. We're the same, he and I. After my parents died,
we struggled on our own
nearly a year before my uncle gave us a home. Youel wasn't bad."

"He was."

The pain twisted, squeezing fingers around his heart. "
Any badness in him
was my fault." His knees threatened to crumple. Jorge released Yasmine as if she'd singed him. He stood straighter and retreated a step. "I won't believe it."

"You must. To believe a lie is foolish, and you're not a fool. He murdered innocents, using their deaths to lure the men he truly sought to kill. He
craved
power, and nothing stood in his way that he wouldn't have fought unto death to remove."

"Is that what you're saying happened?"

She closed the distance he'd created, and tenderly touched his face. "Don't take
my word
. Will you please hear
this
from someone who was there?"

His staunch defense melted under her gentle affection. Nobody had looked at him, touched him as she did now. She genuinely cared, and it rocked his flawed foundation. "Who, Yasmine? Who will tell me the truth? Who witnessed my brother's death and would be willing to tell me everything?"

"I would." His aunt stood in the solarium's doorway. Her eyes narrowed, and she slowly turned a silver wolf's-head pendant at the end of a chain necklace. "I see Yasmine has prepared you well. Come. You're ready to listen to the truth." She turned, her ample hips filling the opening before she retreated into the depths of the mansion.

Jorge's stomach dropped. "Is that what you've been doing? Preparing me? Playing hard to get so I'd give chase? So I'd give you a chance to soften my resolve?" He barked a cynical laugh while his blood changed to acid. "And to think, all this time I thought
I
was using
you
to get close to Malveaux."

"What?" She stumbled a step, her features falling.

Jorge's stomach dropped. Was he wrong? Was he so poisoned in his view that he saw manipulation and vice in everyone? "Yasmine—"

She shook her head and retreated a step. Genuine hurt reflected in her stare.

"Nephew," called Lady Grauwolf from within.

He glanced toward the doorway. "One moment, Aunt Charlotta." When he turned, however, Yasmine had gone.

For a second, he contemplated going after her. He had deeply offended her. He couldn't imagine he had anything she'd want to hear. Not right now, anyway. Before he sought her, he needed answers. Sighing, he pivoted on his heel and strode after his aunt.

* * *
*

After dismissing her maid, Yasmine gave the sleeve of her night rail an irritated yank. Her lace ripped. "Damn!"

"Such unladylike language."

Gasping, she spun to face the window. She was about to give Jorge a dressing-down for taking advantage of her need for fresh air when the words caught in her throat.

He trembled. His face was paler by easily two shades, and he twisted the collar of his doffed jacket so badly she feared he'd not be able to don the garment when he left.

"You listened." Her ire dissipated from a fiery inferno to a smoldering wisp of smoke.

"How…?" He raked fingers through his hair, which came loose from its cord tie. "I loved him." His gaze searched her face.

"I don't doubt he took full advantage. You refused to see any wrong in him. What a perfect arrangement for a young man with such a character as his." She wove together her fingers to prevent them from reaching out to him.
I'm still mad at you.

"My character's no better, apparently. I came to Rift intent on murder, too."

"You can't compare your conduct with his. Youel came solely for the selfish purpose of wresting power from the hands of men a hundred times better than himself. You came to right what you perceived as a wrong. You're noble. He was not."

He shook his head. "Not so noble. I used people, just like he did. Good people. My aunt. You."

"It comes down to motive, I think. Do you think he'd have listened to reason? Do you think there's anything anyone could've said that would've swayed him from his course?"

"No. Youel had always been a determined person. Once he made up his mind, nothing could stop him." He relaxed a bit, his shoulders lowering a fraction. "I admired that trait. I'd always thought it made him strong in the best way. That he'd become a great leader one day."

"Maybe it would have, if he'd been patient and good-hearted, like you."

"I'm not good-hearted. I hurt you, didn't I? I come into your bedroom uninvited, don't I?" His lip curled, but she suspected his disdain was for himself and no other. "I wanted to kill Lord Malveaux.
He
has a good heart. Don't think I don't realize he could've destroyed me. That he spared me, instead, by avoiding me. I deserve to die just as much as Youel did." His gaze dropped to the floor.

Her anger disappeared entirely. "Please, come sit." She gestured to a couple wingchairs set at angles before her unlit fireplace.

Jorge draped his coat over one's backrest and sat. He rested his forehead in his hands, his elbows on his knees and his hair falling forward to hide his face. "You see goodness in me despite my behavior." Turmoil formed a vortex in him. "It's ironic."

"Why?" She sat.

Jorge cut his gaze to her in the other wingchair. "Because you're the good one. Your behavior is exactly what it should've been. Even when I treated you with less respect than you deserved, you never hurt me."

She clutched the neckline of her night rail. "Is that what you think I should've done? Wounded you in some way?"

He took in her loose waves and soft eyes. Her beauty kindled a flame of desire that
lengthened
his cock. He shifted, changing its course
to
harden toward his trousers' waistband rather than against his unresisting crotch placket.

His voice came out rougher when he said, "I imagine another lady wouldn't have hesitated to hit me over the head with a knickknack then shove me right back out that window."

Her features gentled. "Maybe I should have." She chuckled and shook her head. "Another lady would've been unprepared. I dreamt of you before you arrived. I was ready for you." She released her gown and placed her hand on his knee. "I
am
ready for you."

Her intimate touch sent a jolt of need straight from his knee to his hard-on. He jerked upright.

Yanking her hand away, she said, "I'm sorry. I'm too bold."