“Does it now? You have a slight reputation yourself, my lady.”
“Is that so?”
“Oh, I’ve had my eye on you, you naughty, little minx, and you’ve been indulging in the forbidden.”
She swallowed, as if her mouth had become suddenly parched.
“There’s no perfect crime,” he continued. “And you’ve left one telltale sign.”
“But I’ve been so very discreet,” she protested, slipping more fully into the role.
He angled forward, closing the distance between them, then reached up and rubbed the corner of her mouth with his thumb, taking a small, dark smudge of icing with it. He didn’t shift back, but rather sucked at the sweet. Her pupils flared, she watched, transfixed.
“I’m not sure my thumb was thorough enough.”
“One must be thorough,” she said in a breathless whisper.
He moved further forward, easing away the inches between their lips, and swiped his tongue across the corner of her mouth—soft…warm…sweet.
She shifted subtly, and her mouth was pressed to his.
Like kindling lit into flame, urgency seized him as he cupped the back of her head, silky hair threading through his fingers, and deepened the kiss that was taking on a momentum of its own. He needed to touch her…feel her… He reached for herwaist and lifted her as he stood and hoisted her onto the kitchen table. Fumbling hands were opening her nightrobe and pushing it aside, her night chemise offering a teasing view of creamy thighs. Her knees parted, and he was stepping between that sweet flesh.
A primal feeling, this.
This necessity to plant himself between her legs.
He pulled her forward so her bottom was just on the edge…so his cock could push against her soft quim, its demand clear. She groaned into his mouth and squirmed. Down her neck, his lips trailed as he reached between them and felther—so slick…so hot…so ready.
He needed to be inside her—now.
Fingers shaky with need fumbled at the falls of his trousers. Her head arched back, and his name escaped those kiss-crushed lips of hers. “What is it, my naughty sweet?” he growled.
“The servants,” she said in a breathless rush. “They’ll be in to start their day soon.”
Dev froze—and not for worry about the servants.
She’d spoken with more than a hint of Beatrix—not as the naughty Lady Godiva Gallop. She was only a few words away from becoming herself altogether.
And he couldn’t have that.
He shifted back and met her eyes. “Come upstairs with me.”
The longest three seconds of Dev’s life ticked past. She knew whatupstairsmeant.
No turning back.
Then she nodded, and he could breathe again.
It was with great reluctance and dint of will that he shifted back so she could hop to her feet. He didn’t want to be separated from her, not even for a few minutes. “This set of servants’ stairs lead to the master’s bedroom,” he said, pulling open the correct door.
They hadn’t made it halfway up the dark, narrow staircase, Beatrix a step ahead, when he reached up and took her hand, twining his fingers through hers. It was imperative that he touch some part of her.
But the next instant, it wasn’t enough.
He tugged, and she glanced over her shoulder, a saucy smile curled about her mouth. On a low growl, he slipped his other hand around her waist and had her back pushed against the wall, his mouth covering hers with a near desperate need. He could kiss her all night, except…
“Do you have the faintest idea what exquisite torture it is to observe you all day and not be able to dothis”—a hand stole around and cupped her sweet bottom—“andthis”—his mouth trailed lower and nudged her robe aside so he could suck her taut nipple through muslin—“and most definitelythis.” He reached beneath the hem of her chemise and found the soft curls of her cunny—slick and swollen with desire…ready for him. “I could ravish you here and now,” he muttered against her breast.
