There.
She felt it.
Through the muslin of her chemise and the superfine of his trousers, his manhood—hard…thick.
It seemed the sort of implement that would be equal to any task.
A shiver crawled through her.
“Beatrix…”
Oh, how she liked the sound of her name pouring from his mouth on a plea.
“Now, Lord Devil, it’s time you earn your reputation.”
Within his fiery aquamarine eyes that pierced and prodded, she saw resistance give way to surrender, then harden into something that struck through her on an elemental chord—from man to woman.
Intention.
His intention to have her.
She lowered her mouth to his—at last—and his hands—finally—moved…from calves, following the seam of her stockings up to the garters above her knees…trailing along her thighs…across her bottom…up to her hips…grabbing hold as he pressed her hard against him, her sex grinding along his rigid length.
She gasped as novel sensation cascaded through her—all of it pleasurable.
“Oh, do that again,” she murmured against his lips.
She felt him smile against her mouth.
And he did.
From the center of her sex, lightning spiderwebbed through her veins, nerve endings lit alive.
Heady and daring, this was the feeling of freedom. With this man, she could do whatever she liked, such was thecommunication between their bodies that didn’t need words to be spoken.
And what she would like now was to seehim…to feelhimagainst her bare skin.
His mouth pressed against the crook of her neck, almost undoing her intention, but down his body her hands proceeded, awed fingertips brushing across the falls of his trousers…the turgid length of his aroused shaft.
The size of him.
Once, she’d seen a depiction of Michelangelo’sDavidin a book on Italian art. In many ways, Beatrix could see how Deverill’s form mirrored that of the hero’s—muscles precisely delineated into near god-like lines and curves.
Except in this one area—his manhood.
The statue of David had in no way prepared her for what lay beneath the falls of Deverill’s trousers.
Overcome with curiosity and determination, she settled slightly back and unfastened one button at a time, her heart seeming to double its rate with each button freed.
The cloth fell away, and she inhaled a gasp.
Bold.
His was a manhood with no need to apologize for itself.
Oh, the wickedness that sparked within his eyes. “Like what you see?”
How his wickedness delighted her.
