Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle. Bronwyn Scott
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propriety and honour would work. She looked up at him with a gaze of wide-eyed innocence known to have been the undoing of other men before him.
‘Touché, madame.’ Stockport put a hand over his heart. ‘Your appeal to my honour has me at a disadvantage.’
Nora dropped her pose, all business again. ‘Now that’s settled, tell me your bargain, Stockport.’
He had the gall to smile grandly as if he were enjoying this nocturnal visit far too much for his own good. ‘Call me Brandon. Since we are to be accomplices of sorts, we should be on first-name basis, Eleanor.’
‘Don’t call me that,’ Nora snapped.
Brandon raised his eyebrows in query. ‘What shall I call you? I can’t call you Cat.’ He tapped a long finger against his chin. ‘I know, I shall call you Ermentraude. Yes, that’s precisely the name that comes to mind when I think of you, white flannel and all.’
‘Stop your teasing. This isn’t a game, Brandon. I have no wish to hang.’ Nora brought up the dagger once more, tensing.
‘Tell me your name,’ Brandon demanded.
‘It’s Nora,’ she ground out through her teeth. She stepped close to him so that the blade pressed against his white shirt. ‘I will thank you to take me seriously.’
Something akin to mischief flickered in his eyes. ‘Perhaps you will thank me to take you—preferably horizontally over seriously, but we can work with that. I’m told I am quite skilled at a variety of positions.’
Nora’s free hand shot up and slapped him with resounding force across the planes of his gorgeous face. ‘If that was the deal you were coming to negotiate, you can climb back out of the window right now.’ She gave an expert jab with her blade, slicing off an onyx stud from his shirt front to emphasise her point.
‘Ouch, that pricked, you vixen!’ Lightning quick, he grabbed her wrist holding the knife. Nora kicked him hard in the shins, succeeding only in raising his ire.
Instantly, she felt herself lifted off the ground and slung over his shoulder. He took two long strides and she was tossed on to her bed. Stockport followed her down, imprisoning her with the sheer size of his looming frame and forcing her to meet his impossibly azure eyes.
Her breath came in pants, her anger quickly turning to something more lethal than the blade limp in her hand. By all the saints, he was gorgeous and at close range he was nigh on irresistible.
‘How dare you?’ Nora berated. ‘I don’t like fast men.’
‘I don’t like conniving women.’ He was nearly as breathless as she.
She gave a throaty chuckle. ‘You do too. You like the way I do things, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.’ She twined her arms about his neck and brought his lips to hers in a searing kiss.
Nora could feel the pressure of his erection hard against the juncture of her thighs and felt her body thrill to it. She wanted him. Negotiations and deceptions suddenly seemed secondary in light of the primal need surging through her.
He drew back, resting on his knees, straddling her at the thighs. Nora cast him a questioning glance at his retreat.
‘I want you, Brandon,’ she said bluntly in case he had somehow misunderstood her body’s invitation.
‘I want you too, but not at knife point.’ He jerked his head towards her right hand. ‘Drop the dagger.’
‘Deal. Drop your trousers.’
‘Deal.’
The dagger clattered to the floor, followed shortly by the softer shush of trousers.
Negotiations were complete.
‘Say it again, Nora. Say you want me,’ Brandon murmured quietly as he resumed his position over her, hands on either side of her head, his lips flicking fire-hot kisses along the column of her neck.
She could barely think, let alone speak, but somehow she found the wherewithal to whisper it again. ‘I want you, Brandon.’
‘No games?’ His hand gently kneaded a breast through the flannel. His body might be ready, but his mind was sceptical, no doubt recalling the last time they’d played along these lines. He’d ended up tied to the bed.
Hungry for his full commitment, Nora offered the reassurance he sought. ‘It’s no game, not tonight.’ She leaned up to kiss him again. ‘Tonight, it’s just you and me, no politics between us.’
He studied her face, a sudden tenderness present on his own countenance that startled Nora. ‘Truly?’ he asked in near-reverent tones, indicating this was no game for him either.
‘Yes.’ She nodded, reaching for him once more and growing tired of the delays. With her two hands she reached up and rent the fabric of his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. Then she began tugging at her nightgown.
‘Oh, no, you don’t, turnabout’s fair play.’ Brandon gave a sensual laugh and reached for the gown himself. ‘Do you have many like this?’
‘Two others.’
‘Good. Then you won’t miss this one.’ He grabbed up the fabric at the hem in both hands and ripped. Slowly. Revealing her to him inch by aching inch.
He was a torturer of the highest order. Nora closed her eyes against the onslaught of desire that took her the moment his lips caressed her exposed calf and moved their way up to her thighs. Never had she been so thoroughly or successfully wooed. His skill had not been exaggerated.
Nora tried to keep a part of her mind detached, focused on something else so that she would not be wholly consumed by the act she and Brandon were engaged in. She tried to think of her next robbery, tried to visualise the floor plan of the St John house, tried to remember Brandon was her enemy, and while there could be an objective moment of shared pleasure between them, there could be nothing more.
She failed utterly.
Her mental exercises were no match for the musky scent of his maleness and the clean spicy smell of his soap. His hands caressed and his kisses worshipped as he made his way up her body, laving and revering by turn until she was at last bare to his gaze.
With a lazy finger, he traced a circle about the aureole of her breast. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said simply.
Her heart sang at the plain compliment. It meant all the more for its lack of adornment and her desire mounted. She could feel her own slickness welling and she prayed it wouldn’t be long before Brandon brought his sweet brand of agony to an end. Nora writhed against him in encouragement.
‘Patience, Nora.’ He laughed softly before calming her mouth with a kiss. ‘I would not rush this and have it over so quickly.’ He tested her with a gentle finger and even that small, intimate invasion left her gasping.
His erection prodded the entrance to her soft core and she opened to it, spreading her legs wide to accommodate him between them. His heat was contagious and she was seized with an urgency to have him inside.
The sooner this exquisite distress was over, the sooner she could find her balance. She was fighting futilely and frantically now to save herself from complete capitulation.
He entered her with a sharp push that caused her to gasp and then he sighed, sliding home the rest of the distance. She found his rhythm and raised her hips to join him. Had anything ever felt so divine? Her body pulsed around his shaft, faster and faster until she knew she’d burst from the ecstasy of it. Desperately she strove to hold on to a piece of herself, to not give him everything.
‘Let it happen, Nora. We’ve been moving towards this since we met,’ Brandon coaxed hoarsely. ‘There, now, let it go. Come soar with me.’
And she did.
Nora exploded. Her senses were raw and vulnerable. She could feel Brandon’s weight as it sagged in satiation against her, having found