She settled her hands on his shoulders and then dragged a trail inward, massaging the tension from his muscles before resting them on his chest.
He wanted her. Dash it all. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman.
He could make her his mistress, set her up in a house, and provide her with lifelong security. Before the thought fully formed; however, an excess of obstacles defeated it.
“Ezekiel.” Her fingertips drifted up to his mouth. “My lord Zeke,” she teased. “Are you going to kiss me again?”
He caught her hand, turned it to the side, bit gently into soft flesh, and then pressed it to his mouth. Gone was his proper, dignified self, of whom he was most familiar.
Her legs wound around his middle, leaving but a few scraps of fabric separating his aching cock from her opening. He imagined the velvety folds of her seam. What would she feel like? What would she taste like? What sounds would she make when he buried himself inside her? Suddenly impatient, Greys captured her rosebud lips with his mouth.
She tasted clean, fresh, devoid of perfume or soaps. The water pressed in around them, and he imagined joining his body with hers.
Had he sold his soul to the devil in exchange for this enticing, bewitching, and promising predicament.
Her mouth parted, and when he dipped his tongue inside, she nipped at it.
Diana. It was the only word he could summon. This was becoming addictive.
Shewas becoming addictive. “Diana.”
Just this once, the rogue in him whispered. You’ll have a lifetime to regret her, but for now—
Just this once.
Greys tightened one arm around her, the other sliding down so he could fill his hand with the plump flesh of her bum. He squeezed, and kneaded, wanting to replace his hands with his mouth—longing to know every inch of this woman.
Intimately.
“Zeke.” Her name on his lips sent euphoric sparks racing down his spine—the promise of all this could be.
Diana.
His cock strained against her. He wanted to beg her to stop him, but that would have been hypocritical. If he couldn’t stop himself, it wasn’t fair to think she could.
He could stop himself.
If he wanted to.
He didn’t want to.
Just this once…
Her fingers trailed tantalizingly down his chest, stopping when she reached his breeches, where she teased the ridge of his length.
Greys lowered his mouth intent on claiming one breast, and then the other, exploring her curves with his hands, marveling at how perfectly she fit in his arms. He was coming to be infatuated with her—
In a very Diana-like gesture, she leaned back, clutching him with only her legs, floating on the water and moving her hips in tiny circles, creating just enough friction to drive him mad.
“Can’t you find it, Diana—?”
Greys glanced up at the same time Diana dropped her legs from around him. But whereas he was met with her sister's accusing stare, the woman he’d damn near thoroughly compromise in the Duke of Blackheart’s swimming bath slipped into the water. Greys instinctively reached for her and pulled her up, and she emerged coughing for the second time that day.
In the face of the uncomfortable silence that followed, Diana slicked the water off her face and then after wiping her eyes, turned to meet her sister’s gaze.
Greys couldn’t keep doing this. His behavior today, without a doubt, had laid waste to all his carefully made plans, but now it was threatening to change…
Him.
