Diamonds are for Deception: The Carlotta Diamond / The Texan's Diamond Bride / From Dirt to Diamonds. Julia James
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Slipping the shirt from her shoulders, he tossed it aside and eased her onto her back, kissing her closed eyelids, her cheekbones, her throat, while one hand slid down over her ribcage and stomach to the silky skin of her inner thighs.
She was shivering, but it had nothing to do with the cool air of the room, as she abandoned herself to his experienced fingers. When his mouth took the place of his fingers she had to bite her lip to stop herself crying out.
His lovemaking was infinitely skilled and gentle, coaxing the maximum sensation from her body while he kept her just on the brink.
Finally, unable to stand any more, she begged huskily, ‘Please, oh, please…’ and felt his weight with gratitude.
This time, showing a steely control over his own body and hers, he moved with maddening slowness. Drawing shuddering thrills from her, he withdrew to the very tip before pressing back again, creating a slow spiralling need that built into a white-hot molten core of tension.
Only when her body instinctively began to urge his did he move faster, driving deeper, until the tension exploded like a volcano. She cried out at the intense pleasure, and heard his low, answering groan.
When their heart-rate and breathing returned to normal he lifted himself away, and, gathering her up, brushed her damp, tangled hair away from her cheeks and kissed her.
Totally at peace and engulfed by a kind of languid sweetness, she fell asleep in his arms, her face against his throat.
When Charlotte awoke for the second time she was alone in the bed. Logs flamed and crackled in the grate and a welcome smell of coffee was drifting in from the scullery.
She was about to get out and pull on the shirt before fetching her clothes, when the door opened and Simon came in carrying a large wooden tray. He was fully dressed, his blond hair, still a little damp from the shower, parted on the left and tidily combed. ‘Hungry?’ he asked.
‘Starving.’
‘The best I can manage is black coffee followed by tinned sausages and baked beans. Not very exciting, I’m sorry to say, but as we’ve expended so much energy,’ he added wickedly, ‘I thought we’d better go for it.’
Trying hard not to blush, she said composedly, ‘It smells wonderful.’
‘As it’s still none too warm out here, I suggest you have yours in bed.’
With a feeling of being cherished and cared for, she pushed herself upright and leaned back against the pillows.
Balancing the tray dexterously on one hand, he removed the candlestick and matches from the bedside table before setting it down.
She noticed that the stubble had gone from his jaw, to be replaced by a slight rawness and a drying trickle of blood. Feeling a sudden rush of tenderness, she said, ‘You’ve cut yourself.’
‘It’s just a nick.’ Wryly, he added, ‘I’m out of practice with the kind of cutthroat razor Ben has. The only time I’ve used one of those was at college, and then I did it for a bet.’
‘I’m surprised you bothered shaving.’ She spoke the thought aloud.
‘I wouldn’t have done, but bristles play havoc with a delicate skin like yours—the bits I can see are still pink from last time—and I was overcome by a strong desire to kiss you all over.’
Before she could protest he drew back the duvet and, taking her hips, pulled her flat on her back. Then, growling softly, he nuzzled his face against her breasts, alternately nibbling and sucking.
While she laughed and squirmed helplessly, he worked his way down her ribcage to her slender waist. His mouth was hovering over her navel when she gasped, ‘Stop…’
‘I’ve scarcely started. I haven’t even got to the really interesting bits.’
‘Please stop.’
‘You mean you don’t like it?’
‘I mean I’m hungry, and the beans and sausages will be getting cold.’
He straightened with a sigh and helped her sit up. ‘What a very practical woman. I can see that in future I’m going to have to feed you before I indulge my lascivious cravings.’
Reaching for the shirt, he put it carefully around her shoulders. ‘Coffee first?’
‘Please.’
When their mugs were empty, he spread a clean tea towel over the duvet and put a heaped plate and a knife and fork in front of her. ‘Tuck in.’
Then, sitting down companionably on the edge of the bed, he reached for his own plate and began to eat with a healthy appetite.
Watching him, Charlotte saw that, without looking anything but entirely masculine, he ate with a kind of neat precision.
Unlike some big men, all his movements were easy and graceful, and whatever he was doing he seemed to have complete control over his own body. The thought brought vivid memories of his earlier lovemaking, and made her breath come faster and her pulses race.
Leashing his own needs, he had been ardent, tender, skilful and wonderfully generous. She had never, in her wildest fantasies, imagined having such a lover.
She wanted to pinch herself to make sure that all that had happened since they’d come to Owl Cottage hadn’t been just a dream.
For instance, had she really agreed to marry a man she had known for barely two days?
Incredibly, she had.
What on earth had made her do it?
She was head over heels in love, it was as simple as that. Somewhere she had read that you first fell in love with your eyes, then your emotions, then your mind. But she hadn’t done it in stages, and she hadn’t called it love.
Instead she had labelled this bolt from the blue physical attraction, only now realising it was love. A fierce, all-consuming love that had lit a torch and sent her up in flames…
CHAPTER SIX
‘I TAKE it that, like me, you’d prefer a traditional church wedding to the register office?’ Simon’s voice broke into her thoughts.
‘Yes, I would,’ she agreed unhesitatingly.
‘Good.’ Putting their empty plates on the tray, he went on, ‘It shouldn’t take long to get everything organised. We’ll need a special licence. But my godfather, as well as being an old friend of the family, happens to be an archbishop, which ought to facilitate matters. If I talk to him as soon as we get back, we should be able to get married in a few days’ time.’
‘A few days!’ She was staggered. ‘Oh, but I—’
‘Grandfather doesn’t have much longer, and I’d like him to live to see us married.’
‘But there’s the shop and—’
‘Couldn’t you ask your assistant—Margaret, did you say her name was—to take care of things for the moment?’
‘I suppose so, but—’
‘Then surely there’s no problem? With regard to your flat you can just leave everything where it is until the wedding’s over. Then, when you’ve moved your personal possessions, give your landlord notice and return the keys.’
‘I don’t think I’ll need to do that. I’m sure Sojo will want to stay on,’ she said.
‘Sojo?’
‘Sojo Macfadyen. My flatmate.’
Looking momentarily startled, he said, ‘I didn’t know you had a flatmate.’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Male or female?’
‘Female, of course.’
He