She usually did, but tonight there had been special circumstances, because tonight she had planned on receiving a visitor she didn't want anyone to know about. She had agreed to allow Robbie to stand guard outside her door for the simple reason that Vanessa trusted him to keep whatever he saw to himself. But neither of them had thought to add to his number when the circumstances changed.
It was a severe jolt to remember that earlier plan now and realize that it had actually come to pass. Colt was here, in her room. They were alone. And it had come about without a summons, so there was nothing for him to suspect in the way of ulterior motives. Good Lord, she was even still dressed for the part, but there was no longer the guilt of a deliberate se-duction to prick her conscience and fill her with mis-givings. Whatever happened.
Before her heart could accelerate with that thought, Jocelyn realized nothing was going to happen, because Colt hadn't once looked at her since they had come into the softly lit room. And somehow she knew he wasn't going to either. She almost laughed. If she did something to make him look at her, that would be tantamount to deliberately trying to seduce him again. She had to face it. Tonight just simply wasn't fated to be the night.
"Having only one guard at my door was indirectly your fault, Colt." She smiled at the double meaning that he couldn't possibly guess at. But when she saw him stiffen upon hearing blame placed at his feet, she quickly clarified. "I said indirectly. The fact is I have felt so much safer since you've joined us that I have become remiss in certain precautionary measures. I also felt the men deserved a night off."
"What the hell good is that army that surrounds you if they don't see to your safety regardless of your wishes?"
Now she stiffened. "Your point is well taken. How stupid of me to depend on your rescuing abilities sim-ply because you have displayed them so well and so often!"
"Stupid is damned right!"
That was it! He couldn't even look at her when he shouted at her.
"Good night, Mr. Thunder."
Seething, she watched him reach for the door han-dle again and this time slam out of the room.
Chapter Twenty-three
No sooner was Jocelyn alone than she yanked off her robe, wadded it up in her hands, and threw it down at her feet. She just about stomped on it as well. That miserable, detestable.
"And when the hell are you going to lock this damned. door?"
The "damned door" in question had been opened again for Colt to snarl that question at her. Jocelyn didn't answer it. She had sucked in her breath at his sudden reappearance and seemed to have lost the knowledge of how to breathe, let alone speak, the second her eyes collided with his.
Colt seemed to have the same problem, for he had barely gotten the last word out, nor were any more forthcoming. He stood with one hand gripping the door handle, the other pressed flat against the outside wall, merely leaning into the room, which was as far as he got when he saw her. And he didn't move from that position — at least his body didn't. His eyes were moving plenty, however, slowly, over every inch of her, from the flame-tinted hair, now in wild disarray, to the bare toes peeking out from the bottom of that incredible sheath of shimmering, clinging green satin, and what was in between — Christ Almighty. What the sight of her standing there like that did to him should have reduced him to ashes.
"I wondered about it… often. what you slept in."
Jocelyn wouldn't have known what to reply to that even if she could. She had only just started breathing again, and that with difficulty. Speech was still beyond her, as was movement. She was afraid to take a step for fear her knees would buckle. And that wasn't her only fear. His eyes, usually so opaque, were blazing now with such heat she felt scorched by them, thrilled beyond measure — but frightened too. She couldn't help it, not when she recalled that he had never once been gentle with her, and looked anything but gentle now.
Without taking his eyes from her, Colt stepped far enough into the room to close the door behind him.
Below the handle was the lock and he turned that too, still with his gaze riveted on her.
If she hadn't already known her time of waiting was over, that would have confirmed it. But she did know. He was going to have her. She couldn't deny him now even if she wanted to. And she didn't want to. She wanted him, despite the fear, despite knowing she would be getting raw passion rather than gentle lovemaking. Why that didn't change her mind and send her fleeing out the window again she wasn't sure. She just knew he had to be the first, that she couldn't imagine anyone else touching her the way she was going to let him touch her.
Her budding passion and nervous determination were not as pronounced as her fear, which was all Colt sensed in her stillness or saw in her wide-eyed stare. In a primitive way, it only inflamed him the more.
But in the back of his mind he was aware that she hadn't instigated this meeting, that if he was lynched for it afterward, he would have nothing to blame but his own weakness. He would be a real bastard to use the same tactics now that he had used previously to frighten her off. Having lost the battle, he had no need for them. But he had a need for fair-ness, especially when she couldn't stop him, not by herself, not without help. So despite his single-minded determination, he forced himself to give her one last opportunity to escape what he could no longer control himself.
"Scream now, Duchess, while you've got the chance. You won't get another."
Jocelyn wished he hadn't said that. It sounded too ominous by half, as if she wouldn't survive this en-counter, or had totally mistaken what was going to happen.
"W — why?"
Her voice acted like a magnet, drawing him across the room even as he answered with brutal clarity, "Because I'm going to lay you on that bed and fill you with my flesh."
God, she hoped so. The words alone sent her blood racing and her heart knocking against her ribs.
There was no question of screaming. Moaning maybe. She already felt the need to moan and had to consciously resist it, not wanting any sound to escape that he might mistake before he reached her.
When he did, the opportunity was lost. His fingers immediately threaded into her hair to grip her head and tilt it back, applying enough pressure so there was no escaping his mouth as it lowered to cover hers.
And as she had anticipated, it was a ravaging kiss, fraught with need too long denied, searing and hurting and angry.
But Jocelyn understood the emotion behind it, or thought she did. If Vanessa had the right of it, Colt was probably furious with her right now for breaking his control, but even more furious with himself for letting it happen. It was up to her to tame that fury before it got out of hand.
She shoved desperately against his chest until he raised his head. He even dropped one hand so she could create a space between them. The other hand remained where it was, the fingers closing on her hair. As long as she didn't try to move too far away from him, it didn't hurt. But she knew he could yank her back at any second, that he was merely allowing them both a moment to catch their breath.
Hers was gasping, and instead of calming, it only became more rapid as she washed his eyes drift down her body, taking in everything again at this closer range. When she started to say something, anything that would break the mounting tension in her belly, he knew it without glancing up, and forestalled her with a shake of his head.
"Not now, Duchess." His voice vibrated with warning. "You had your chance."
She swallowed hard, and it was only because his direct gaze still remained diverted that she managed to get out, "Then call me Jocelyn."
In that moment Colt knew she was willing. His eyes shot up to her face to confirm it, and it was there, not fear, or horror, or even disgust, but merely un-certainty, and in her eyes — arousal. That knowledge acted on him like whiskey poured over hot flames. He groaned and reached for her again, and his hand was trembling as it touched her cheek, slid down her throat, then came to rest on her upper chest, where he could feel the wild tempo of her heartbeat.