“Then how?” she demanded, tipping her chin up with defiance and holding his gaze.
His fingers tightened over hers, and in the next moment, he pulled her into him, her softness colliding with his hard strength. “Like this.”
And then his lips were on hers.
Everett hadn’t intendedto kiss her.
He had meant to return to his own bedchamber and leave her for the night. The emotions swirling through him were too dangerous. The whisky he’d imbibed hadn’t been sufficient to diminish them. He hadn’t even partaken of a second glass. What was the point?
He couldn’t resist Sybil, no matter how hard he tried.
And now, her lips were beneath his, sweeter than syllabub and infinitely more delicious. He didn’t even need to coax her to open. Their mouths and tongues melded in a potent combination of anger and desire.
He didn’t want to need her like this. All he was meant to feel for her was duty. Lust at the most. And yet, she shook him in a way no woman before her had. She confounded him.
It didn’t matter.
Their fingers tangled, the air between them growing hot and heady. Together, they tore at buttons. His. Hers. He shrugged out of his dressing gown and whipped her nightgown over her head. Then he lifted her in his arms, carrying her the last few steps to the bed. She was a warm, well-curved weight, and he never wanted to let her go.
He lowered her to the mattress, not even bothering with the ceremony of drawing back the bedclothes. He was ravenous for her, as if he could chase the man she loved from her heart with his lips and tongue. As if he could supplant the memories she had with only him.
Jealousy scored him as he caressed her sweet, soft body, molding her breast with a hand. That bastard may have her heart, but he would never have her like this. Naked and flushed with passion, she washis, damn it. And he set to work showing her—showing them both.
He broke the kiss to drag his mouth down her throat, lingering at the place where her pulse fluttered fast, then lower. To the curve of her breast. Her nipples were the pretty blush of a summer rose, eager for his mouth as he suckled first one, then the other. She arched and gasped, her fingers threading through his hair.
He wanted more.
To claim her so thoroughly that she would never forget who her husband was. If this was all he could have of her, he would take it.
Everett moved between her legs, parting them. He allowed himself a moment to admire this part of her that was his alone, pink and pretty and soaked for him. Her clitoris peeked from her swollen, slick folds, demanding his attention. He licked her seam, savoring the decadent musk of her. She was so bloody delicious. And he was ravenous for her.
With determined care, he devoured her, using his tongue until she stiffened and cried out beneath him. And even then, he was greedy. He ground his raging cockstand into the mattress as he sucked and sank two fingers into her tight heat. She clamped on him instantly, body twisting as if to bring him deeper and to simultaneously escape the dizzying pleasure. He knew the feeling. Pain and bliss at once.
Still, he carried on, not satisfied.
He lifted his head long enough to remind her. “You’re mine.”
Sybil undulated beneath him, impatient, the scent of her desire perfuming the air, heady and sweet. She was a study in innocence and the dissolute, her creamy curves painted with the rosy flush of a woman who had already reached her pinnacle, lips dark and parted, stung by his kisses, her nipples hard points beckoning to him.
Beautiful.
That was what she was. Bloody beautiful.
“Everett,” she protested, hips moving. “Please.”
She was close again, and he knew it. He wanted to prolong her torment. To hear her beg.
So he blew a stream of hot air over her clitoris, then brushed it lightly with his lips alone.
She gasped. “More.”
“My demanding girl.” He flicked his tongue over her. One slow lick was all he would give. “Tell me who you belong to.”
This was his, not anyone else’s. He alone could bring the perfect, elegant Sybil to her knees. He alone could make her come again and again until she forgot the lover she had left behind entirely, and no one existed but the two of them in this room.
“I’m yours,” she murmured from the head of the bed.
Need roared through him, so furious and strong that he had to set his teeth on edge to ward it off. His cock ached to be inside her.
