On a low growl, he cupped one hand at the nape of her neck and fitted the other into that sweet spot at the small of her back. His head angled down, and her breath met his in the heartbeat before his mouth was upon hers, tongues tangling, fitting together with a carnalrightness. Her arms slid around his neck, and her body stretched up the length of his, the taut nubs of her nipples felt through gossamer silk, her feminine curves in perfect sync with the hard lines of his.
Her hands found his chest, and she pushed and pushed again until she had his back against the wall.
This was madness.
This was desire.
This was all their pent-up longing crashing into each other.
Never had he experienced passion like this. Her sweet body against him, his hard cock throbbing against her stomach. She swiveled her hips, applying delicious pressure. Through layers of wool superfine and dupioni silk, he ground against her.
“Hortense,” scraped against his throat as he grabbed her waist and swiveled her around. Now it was her pushed against the wall. On instinct, he shoved her dress up. His fingers found her thighs and began trailing higher.Creamy…soft…and—oh, yes—wet. On a ragged moan, she wrapped one of her legs around his waist, granting him access to the sweet slit he sought.
She pulled her mouth away and exhaled a long moan against his neck. “I want you.” Fingertips traced the implacable ridge of his cock. “I wantthisinside me.”
He could have her here. Against the wall. In the Duke of Wellington’s mansion. And he would be giving her what she wanted. But was it what he wanted?
Yes, he wanted her to bursting.
But was ithowhe wanted her—the woman who was his wife—for the first time?
Thefirsttime?
Wasn’t this marriage to be in name only?
With a resolve he hadn’t known himself capable, he pulled back—or attempted to. Her leg was still wrapped around his waist. And there was the matter of her cunny. It was wet and inviting and in need of a good stroking.
He couldn’t think about that and hold his resolve.
“We can’t do this,” somehow emerged from his mouth.
“Oh, but we can,” she whispered against his neck, her hot words skirring across his skin, inciting his cock to more madness.
“We agreed the marriage would be in name only.” Through blunt force of will did the reminder scratch across his throat.
Again, he attempted to move away. Again, her leg tightened around him.
“We could make an exception.”
This woman knew what she wanted.Him.And, oh, how he yearned to give her every last inch.
Yet he found himself shaking his head. There was a line here, one he mustn’t cross. If he had her once, that would be it for him, for he would need to have her a second time and a third and a fourth until he’d inextricably lost himself inside her. She didn’t understand that about him, but he did. Someday soon, she would want her freedom, and he needed to be able to let her have it. No matter what it cost him.
Of a sudden, her leg released him, and her dress slid down her body. He took a step backward that felt no small bit drunken. Though he’d imbibed no spirits tonight, intoxication pulsed through his veins. He was drunk on her.
Across the three feet separating them, frustration flashed in her eyes. She wasn’t exactly pleased with him.
Well, he wasn’t exactly pleased with him either.
Then, at last, she nodded curtly, and the moment turned. She wouldn’t push the matter further.
He’d gotten what he wanted. Relief should be pulsing through him. Instead, he felt tetchy and cross. “Let us leave. I believe we’ve gotten out of this night what we came for.”
Her eyebrows lifted toward the ceiling. “Oh?”
“We’ve established contact with Rothesbury and left him wanting more.”
“And he’s the only one left wanting more?”
