Heat spread through her. But she refused to be dissuaded. “I am offering myself,” she said, her voice confident, though her hands shook. “I know the pain of a parent’s disapproval. Let me comfort you.”
He brought his lips to hers in a bruising kiss. One that was no doubt meant to send her running. Cordelia met his fury with passion. She’d not intended to kiss the man, but neither did she regret what was happening. In all her three and twenty years, no one had ever kissed her.
She warmed all over, her pulse racing and knees going weak. It was exhilarating. And she wanted it—wanted him. The realization sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through her as she wound her arms around his neck.
This was her chance. Perhaps the only opportunity she would ever have to experience passion, desire, the touch of a man. She’d not planned to kiss him, but now that she was, she had no intention of stopping.
Leastwise, not soon. Not before she had her fill.
Cordelia wound her fingers into the thick sandy curls near his temple and parted her lips in a breathy sigh. She delighted when Lord Wolverton slid his tongue against hers, sending delightful new sensations racing through her.
He pulled her tight against him. The hard ridge of his desire pressed against her as he cupped her bottom in his powerful hands.
She pressed herself tighter against him as a pleasant ache sprang to life between her thighs. With brazen abandon, she wriggled against him and thrust her tongue against his.
He explored her body with his hands, cupping her breasts and trailing his touch over her hips and thighs.
Cordelia burned with a need she never could have imagined. A desire so strong, all she cared about was satisfying it.
Lord Wolverton tore his lips from hers, and she protested, pulling him back. “Please,” she gave a breathy plea. “Don’t stop.”
* * *
Nathaniel Lowell, Viscount Wolverton, could scarcely wrap his head around what was happening. Was the spinster next door truly begging him to bed her? Had she honestly offered him the use of her body?
Lady Cordelia Daventry, the proper miss who could not capture the attention of a single gentleman for her shy nature and overbearing mother, was indeed kissing him. Not merely kissing him, she was burning with desire.
He recognized it in the way she held him close, the way she pressed against him, and her breathy moans of pleasure.
She wanted him—needed him.
‘Use me.’ Her words echoed through his mind. Had this been her intention from the start? Had she come in here to seduce him?
The vixen was pressing against him, begging him to devour her. Had she come to him, intent on bedding him? Was she endeavoring to trap a husband before she found herself truly placed on the shelf? Or was she chasing a thrill? Reaching for a memory to hold close in her dotage?
Did he even care?
The woman kissed like the devil and looked like an angel. He could lose himself in her for a brief time. Take his aggravation and hurt out on her soft curves and welcoming flesh. Her full lips and sweet little cuny might be precisely what he needed.
Besides, when had Nathaniel ever turned away from a willing woman? If she wanted to play the strumpet for him, he would oblige her.
Wickedness sunk its Sharpe claws into him, and he determined to do more than oblige her. By the time he was through, she’d be panting his name and quivering with satisfaction. If it was a memory she sought—she’d have it.
Nathaniel was not worthless. He knew his way around a woman’s body. Knew how to bring them pleasure and leave them both satisfied and wanting.
He lifted Cordelia, wrapping her long legs around his hips as he carried her to a nearby table. The friction between them caused her to moan as he lowered her bottom to the table’s edge. His cock pulsed and strained against his breeches as he trailed kisses down the column of her neck.
She tilted her head back, her breasts thrusting forward as a tiny sigh of pleasure drifted from her rosy lips. Her sable curls came loose from their pins and brushed against her neck and cheek, and her blue eyes were glazed with passion.
Nathaniel could scarcely control his passions as he worked to free her breasts. He drew one dusky nipple into his mouth, and she stiffened.
For a moment, he hoped she would stop him. Then a husky moan left her kiss-swollen lips, and he reveled because she did not push him away.
He gathered her skirts, sliding them up her thighs to her waist, and pressed his erection against her core as he suckled at her plump, rounded breasts. Cordelia rocked against him, her fingers tangled in his hair, holding his mouth to her.
She drove him mad with desire. Perhaps she was not an innocent after all. The woman certainly did not behave as one would expect of a chaste lady.
“Oh, god. Oh, Nathaniel,” she cried out as her body worked against his.
