God, she undid him. And since he wasn’t actually a fool like her dead husband, he loved being undone by her. Loved her feminine passion…and wanted to unleash all of it.
“Care to show me how much?” he challenged.
Her smile lit up her eyes, her face, until he would swear that she was brighter than the starlight.
“It would be my pleasure,” she purred.
With giddy excitement, Pippa took in the sensual male before her. Lounging against the cushions, he was a feast for the senses, and she didn’t know what she wanted most: to taste or smell or touch him. But she didn’t have to choose, did she?
Since Cull had given her free rein, she could have itall.
Having never been in charge before, she wasn’t sure where to begin. Letting her instincts guide her, she knelt beside him and traced the straight line of his eyebrows with her fingertip. She stroked the bridge of his nose and around his lips. As if she were sketching him with her touch.
He flicked his tongue out, catching her fingertip. She responded by leaning in and kissing his forehead and the twin dents between his brows. She let her lips follow where she’d touched. As she cupped his strong jaw with both hands, she pressed her lips against his smooth cheek. And heard his breath catch when she did the same to the other side, feeling the rough texture of his scars, part of the tapestry that made up this unique and vital man. Whose beauty was more profound than perfection. Whose every wound and every hurt made him peerless in her eyes.
Her mouth hovering by his, she said, “I want to paint you someday.”
He stared at her, as if he didn’t believe she was serious. Although she was. Absolutely.
His breath caressed her lips. “One of ’em naked pictures?”
Laughter bubbled from her, and it felt like joy. She grabbed one end of his cravat, unraveling it slowly. “For a nude portrait, I need to do a thorough study ahead of time.”
He helped her to remove his coat, waistcoat, and shirt. With his hands planted behind him and veined biceps bulging, his broad chest rippling with muscle, he was a work of art.
“You really are beautiful, you know,” she said with a heartfelt sigh.
“Flattery is unnecessary.” He directed a meaningful gaze at his groin, where his arousal strained his trousers. “I’m what a betting man would call a certain thing.”
“I’m not flattering; I’m giving you a sincere compliment.” She grazed her mouth against his, their lips clinging for the sweetest instant. “All you have to say isthank you.”
“Thank you.”
His words came out a bit strangled, perhaps because she was peppering his jaw with kisses. His soap-and-sea scent whetted her appetite, and she searched for more along his corded neck. She nibbled gently on the ridges of sinew, loving his harsh pants. She ran her tongue down a groove, all the way to his collarbone.
She felt hungry and alive. More alive than she’d ever been.
She poked a finger into his chest; although her push didn’t have any force behind it, he fell back onto the cushions. He tucked one hand behind his head, gesturing at himself with the other.
“Feel free to proceed with your study,” he said with princely grandeur.
She didn’t need to be told twice. Her skirts billowed as she made a space for herself between his muscled thighs. She stretched over him, brushing her lips against his, once, twice, the third time running her tongue along his seam. He parted for her, and she shivered at the reversed roles. At the heady power of having this potent male at her command.
She sank her lips onto his, and the kiss turned ravenous. A feast of tongues and lips and teeth. Their hot licking stiffened her nipples and sent a humid pulse of heat to her core. The need to have more of him took over, and she skated her lips down his throat to his chest.
His torso rose and fell with heavy breaths as he watched her, his eyes hotter than molten earth. She ran possessive hands over the blocks of his pectoral muscles, his wiry bronze chest hair a sensual abrasion against her palms. He had scars here as well, and she bent to kiss the healed hurts, his hands stroking her hair lightly as she did so.
Reaching his nipples, she circled them with her thumbs and, seeing his gaze flare, took it one step further. Bending, she kissed the flat brown nub and smiled when he shuddered.
“Do you like being kissed here?” she whispered.
“I like your mouth anywhere on me,” he said with guttural emphasis.
Taking him up on hiscarte blanche, she tracked the trail of hair with her mouth. It arrowed downward, bisecting the stacked muscles of his abdomen, and she planted kisses over his taut stomach all the way to his waistband. She paused, a tremor shooting through her as she beheld the long, thick ridge stretching the fabric just below.
Cull caught her chin, turning her gaze to his.
“You’re shaking,” he said huskily. “We should stop. Do only what you want to.”
