She released a whimper, like she’d never been touched by a man in her life.And perhaps she hadn’t, not really.All her lovers had been mediocre at best; her husband cruel and selfish.
“You hold your form, and if someone dares to take a menacing step toward you, you punch.”He controlled her, throwing her arm out to punch the invisible opponent.“Go for the vulnerable parts first, throat.”
He guided her arm out again, his lips grazing a wicked path down her cheek to her jawbone, where he bit softly, nibbling her sensitive flesh.
Florentia cracked into a thousand tiny pieces, her head falling back, as his hot mouth traveled to her neck.
“Oh bloody hell,” she cried out, as her hand went to his head, pulling at the long strands of his soft hair.
Rough, big hands started roaming her body, cupping one of her breasts in its wicked hold.“Feck, Princess!I want to bury my cock so deep in you you won’t know where I end, and you begin.”
“Yes!”she begged.
Begged.
“Take off your dress,” he commanded, sucking her earlobe into his hot waiting mouth.
Florentia took two steps forward, freeing herself from his hold.She couldn’t breathe or think with his body so close to hers.
She looked over her shoulder, eyes raking over his strong body.His cock strained against the flaps of his breeches.It looked thick and long.
Dear God.
When her eyes locked with his, she nearly exploded where she stood.The smile that spread against her lips was genuine and pure.Florentia had never felt so close to anyone ever in her life.But somehow this man had managed to melt away her twenty-two-year-old armor in a single day.
She was back in his arms in a single blink of her eyes.His fingers were in her hair, pulling her head back roughly.
“What do you want, Princess?”he asked, those blue eyes holding her hostage, never letting her go.
“You.”It was a plea, one out of pure need and desperation.
And she didn’t care what it meant or what the consequences were.The only thing that she was concerned about was having him inside her, right there in the gilded parlor.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“You.”
Bloody fecking hell.
He was completely undone by the breathtaking woman in his arms.He’d never believed in love or finding the one person that was meant for him.
It was all bullshite to Tavish.
His da would often tell them about how he fell in love with their ma the first time he’d seen her.When he was a boy, he’d thought the story romantic and that perhaps he would find the woman he was supposed to marry the same way.But as he became older, he realized that there wasn’t one perfect person for anyone.
Now as his hands roamed her curvy little body, the material of the dress preventing him from touching her bare skin, Tavish realized with sparkling clarity that by some miracle Florentia Vaughn was meant to be his.
She’d never be Florentia Wilcox to him.She’ll never be tainted with that old bastard Summerset’s name ever again.
He wanted her naked, right there in the parlor in broad daylight with a house full of servants.
She turned in his arms.Her chin lifted, the crown of her head barely reaching his chest.Those eyes, bright as emeralds struck him harder than any blow he’d taken in the ring.
She panted, her breath sliding against his skin, like she’d been fighting in a real ring.“I won’t marry you.I have no need to be controlled again, and I won’t birth you an Irish brood,” she said, leaning into him.
“Considering marrying me already, are ya?”he asked, trying to urge his aching cock to go down.
Her perfect sized tits pressed against him, and Tavish had to fight against the urge to haul her over his shoulder.
