“I’m so sorry,” she breathed, her voice ragged. Raw.
“Don’t.”
He grasped her hips. Her unwillingness to give him a straight answer was getting ridiculous. And yet, with her grinding in his lap, all of Hunt’s intentions had evaporated.
Was this his answer?
Edgeworth’s suggestion taunted him. Ruin her.
“Marry me,” he said. “Enough of this.”
He was angry.
Angry at his father, angry at the Duke of Malum, angry with himself, and also angry with her.
He thrust up, reaching for the soft, wet cradle between her legs, wishing away his trousers, barely containing the urge to tear her gown. Instead, he tugged her bodice down, hungry to taste her again. Drawing one dusky nipple into his mouth, he nipped her gently with his teeth. When she groaned, he squeezed the other beneath his palm.
Allison.
He didn’t say her name aloud this time.
Damn you, Allison.
Consumed with his need for her, he was momentarily bemused when she scrambled off him, onto the floor.
Onto her knees.
“I want to give you something.” Her blue eyes shimmered with a silver light—moonlight on the sea. “I want to make you feel good.”
Hunt groaned when her fingers fumbled over the wool of his trousers, rubbing him, stroking. Not stopping to think, he worked the fasteners with her until they tugged them open, exposing him. Raw. Pulsing.
This wasn’t supposed to—she wasn’t supposed to… He shook his head.
What emotion was that lurking in her eyes? Repentance? Sorrow?
Guilt?
She wound her hands around his thick length, and the last vestige of Hunt’s rational thought fled.
“I want… I want to love you.” Her gaze flicked from his eyes to her hands. She licked her lips, and if possible, Hunt grew even harder.
Lust. Pure unbridled lust drained the blood from his brain and all his extremities to his loins. But he didn’t move.
She exerted a gentle, tentative pressure at first and then at his urging, harder. Hunt allowed her to set the pace, her palms gliding up and over the tip and then down to the base.
And when she leaned forward and encircled the tip with her tongue, his hips jerked. A breath hissed past his clenched teeth at the same time, red and white light burned at the edges of his vision.
“I’m not who you think I am.”
Her words returned. A revelation. A goddess. She must not be a virgin. Was that it?
Liquid velvet.
Sucking.
Licking.
Driven by the sight of her mouth, rosy and glistening, wrapped around him, he guided her pace. Air whooshed out of his lungs again, and he wound her hair around his hands.
