The Viper Read online

  It was no more than he deserved. He’d told her as much, but he’d lied then and sure as hell didn’t want that now. Well, at least not like this. “No, damn it—”

  He froze when she dropped to her knees before him and furiously started to untie his braies. “Jesus, Bella, stop! Don’t do that!”

  But his protest was weakened by what she was doing to him. Her hand was on him, stroking him, milking him with a boldness she’d never displayed before.

  Wrong. The knowledge blared like a flickering candle in his head. He should push her away. This is wrong.

  But God, it felt good. He couldn’t stop the groan as heat rushed to his groin. Swelling. Pulsing. Throbbing in her intimate grip.

  Wrong. He grabbed the hand that gripped him, putting a harsh end to the sensual motion. “Damn it, Bella, stop!”

  She looked up at him, her golden hair a blazing, tousled halo in the firelight. He jerked hard in her hand. Every muscle clenched against the temptation she presented. Those slanted, wide-set eyes, the plump, sensual mouth only inches …

  Her eyes narrowed. He knew what she was going to do. Anticipation coursed through him in a hot rush, pulsing at the tip. He’d dreamed of this moment. It might be wrong, but he had.

  She licked him. Dear God, she flicked out her tiny pink tongue and licked him. His knees buckled against the wave of pure pleasure, and he had to grab a wooden post to steady himself. The rush of heated sensation was unlike anything he’d ever imagined.

  He must have made a sound because her lips curved in a slow, sensual smile. “I thought so.”

  She held his gaze, her tiny hand circled around him. His heart stopped, his breath caught, and his muscles tensed in anticipation as her mouth moved slowly over him. Tell her no. Oh God …

  She took him in her mouth. Deep in her warm mouth. Her soft pink lips wrapped tightly around him. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen; his darkest fantasies come to life.

  He knew he should push her away. If he were half the man she wanted him to be, he would. But any further protest was lost in the mindless state of sensual oblivion.

  She took him mercilessly, ruthlessly, every movement calculated to bring him to his knees. The warm suction of her lips drew him deeper and deeper into the hot cavern of her mouth, the loving circle of her tongue swirling around his head, the soft hand at his base gently pumping …

  It was unbelievable. Mind-blowing. She knew exactly how to taste him, how to suck him, how to drive him wild with pleasure. How had she learned …?

  Oh hell. He knew how.

  He stiffened, pulling back. He might have found the strength to stop her, but she moved her hands around to grip his flanks, taking him even deeper. She sucked him harder. Faster. Milking him with her lips and tongue. Giving him no quarter.

  Pressure gathered at the base of his spine. The sensations were too intense. He couldn’t hold back. It was right there. Pleasure so intense nothing could have made him stop.

  He gripped the back of her head, holding her to him as he came deep in her throat with a fierce roar of pleasure. Jesus. God. Yes. Wave after wave pulsed through him.

  She kept her mouth around him until she’d wrung every drop from him.

  But then it was over. Passion fled as quickly as it had arrived, leaving him as cold and empty as the room suddenly felt.

  Her hands dropped from his backside. The icy shock of air hit him as she let him slide from the warm, wet embrace of her mouth. The enormity of what he’d done pounded through him unrelentingly. He felt ill. So ashamed he didn’t even want to look at her. Honor? He had none.

  He’d let her play the whore for him, giving proof to every bad thought she’d ever had about him.

  He’d driven the only woman who’d ever tried to care for him to her knees, making her believe that was all he wanted from her. Any chance they might have had by his coming back was gone.

  But the truth was far more bitter than that. Knowledge sank like a stone in his gut. It wasn’t until he’d sunk to the lowest depths of depravity that Lachlan acknowledged the truth: I love her.

  The sentiment he’d always denied, that he’d belittled others for succumbing to, crystallized in sharp awareness from the mass of confusing emotions that had been tormenting him from the first.

  This hunger. This craving. This fierce intensity of emotion. This need to protect her. This overwhelming desire to make her happy.

  This misery.

  It wasn’t just lust; it never had been. He loved her and had been fighting it from the start because it scared him to hell that she would never be able to love him back.

  Now, he’d guaranteed it.

  He looked down into her eyes, seeing the horror that mirrored his own. And worse, he saw the stark hurt and hollow disappointment.

  He held her gaze, his heart burning a hole in his chest. He’d never hated anything as much as he did himself at that moment, seeing what he’d done to her. “I’ll do it,” he said stonily.

  Even knowing it would cost him everything, he could not refuse her. He owed her that much.

  My God, what had she done? Shame flooded Bella’s cheeks.

  She’d known that she was losing him. That he wouldn’t change his mind. So panicked and desperate, she’d resorted to the one weapon she’d vowed never to use. She’d used her body, the skills forged at the hand of her husband’s cruelty, to bend him to her will. She’d taken something that could have been beautiful and turned it into something shameful. She’d used his desire for her to get what she wanted.

  She’d acted the whore.

  Worse, he hadn’t stopped her. How could he have let her do that? She’d thought …

  She’d thought what they had was special. But it wasn’t different at all. He was just like every other man. Lust was all he wanted from her. All she’d done was prove it.

  He wouldn’t even look at her. She didn’t blame him. His agreement was cold comfort. She’d done what she needed to do for her daughter, but had sullied what was between them in the process.

  The stoniness of his expression matched his tone. “Gather your things and meet me here in an hour.”

  “But—” Her hands twisted in knots. She should say something. But what? There was nothing she could say that would take away what had just happened.

  He stood there stiffly, either not sensing or ignoring her distress. “You’ll have to hurry if we are to leave before the gate is closed for the night. Find an excuse for your absence if you can. Anything to delay them.” He looked at the ships crowding the room, seeming to speak his thoughts aloud. “We’ll have to ride. Alone, I won’t be able to sail fast enough to outrun my cousin.”

  Her eyes shot to his. “You think the king will send someone after us?”

  He shrugged. “He might. He will guess where we are headed and won’t be happy with either of us for disobeying him.”

  She bit her lip. Not for the first time, her conscience warred with her motherly instincts. She had to ensure her daughter was safe, but she knew what this was costing him. “Lachlan, I’m sorry. I wish there was another way—”

  “Go,” he cut her off; the time for apologies had passed. She’d forced him into this rogue mission and would have to bear the consequences. “There isn’t much time.”

  She’d hated having to lie to Lady Anna, Sir Arthur’s sweet-tempered young bride who’d been nothing but a friend to her, but her claim that she was ill and would prefer not to be disturbed except by her mother bought them some time. Her mother had reluctantly gone along with her plan, recognizing the danger Joan was in.

  They rode for nearly two days straight, stopping only to change horses where they could and tend to their most basic needs. With each mile, the pain and emptiness in her chest seemed to grow, as did the distance between them. She wanted to reach out but didn’t know how. He seemed so remote. So aloof. His expression painfully blank when he looked at her.

  She’d never seen him like this. Part of her wished he would lash out at her