She thought of Hawk’s prowess in the alleyway scuffle. Her heart melted as she realized that his skill had come from a need to defend himself. She knew what it was like to have to protect oneself from the rejection of peers. While her weapons hadn’t been fists, she’d honed her wit, charm, and cunning to be equally lethal.
“Your papa taught you to fight?” she asked softly.
He nodded. “Papa did not inherit the title until later in life. He grew up in the streets and made his own way in the world. He taught me to fight like a gentleman but also to survive. To give a good accounting of myself, no matter the circumstances.”
Fiona knew of the Marquess of Harteford’s unusual rags-to-riches story. She thought it was one of the reasons why he and her own father got along.
“My papa is a self-made man as well,” she said proudly. “I learned from him never to settle. To always go after what I desire.”
“Is that what you are doing at the moment? Going after what you desire?”
At the amused glint in Hawk’s eyes, her cheeks grew hot. Most gentlemen enjoyed her attention; certainly, no one had ever called her out for being a flirt. Flustered, she brought her glass to her lips and finished her drink instead of replying.
“Are you done?” Hawk inquired.
She wetted her lips, noticing how his gaze followed the path of her tongue.
“I don’t think I should have more whisky,” she said.
“I am not referring to the whisky.” He took the glass from her and set it aside. Then he cupped her jaw, his firm touch sending tremors through her. “I’m talking about your attempt to seduce me, little minx.”
She squirmed with embarrassment. It was on the tip of her tongue to deny it, yet her husband’s keen expression told her it was pointless. He knew what she was up to, and besides, she was no shrinking violet. She was Fiona Garrity Morgan, the Countess of Hawksmoor, and she would go after what she wanted.
She fluttered her lashes at him. “Is it working?”
Rare delight flashed in his eyes. An instant later, smoky intensity took its place.
“Are you sore, sweeting?”
His blunt inquiry caused her blush to deepen. “Only, um, a bit.”
He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. “As much as I want to make love to you again, I don’t want to make your poor pussy ache any more than it already does.”
The part in question spasmed, as did her heart. Even though theirs was a marriage of convenience, Hawk took such care with her. Made her feel…safe.
“I don’t mind,” she said tremulously.
“But I do.”
His heated gaze turned her insides to honey.
“Luckily,” he said, “there are some alternative ways of exploring our desires.”
Fifteen
“Heavens.” Fiona’s fingers clenched in his hair. “Are you certain you should be kissing methere?”
Placing a kiss above his wife’s garter, Hawk looked up and was treated to a cock-hardening view. Fiona was naked…save for the beribboned blue garters and white silk stockings he’d left on. Reclined on the sofa, she was a glowing vision against the dark studded leather. Her cheeks were flushed, her breasts heaving from the recent climax he’d given her. He’d suckled her nipples and frigged her pearl for less than a minute before she’d gone off like a Roman candle.
By Jove, I’m a fortunate man.
Now he was kneeling on the carpet between her spread legs, the scent of her feminine arousal making his head spin. Her gorgeous pussy was drenched with dew. He’d only gamahuched one other female, a mistress who’d taught him what she liked, and his mouth watered at the prospect of Fiona allowing him such a treat.
“You can always tell me to stop,” he murmured. “But I think you’ll like it.”
He leaned in, swiping his tongue up her delicate pink gash.Christ,she tasted sublime. His erection strained against his trousers as he feasted. Her shocked gasps melted into breathy moans as he ate her cunny, licking his way to her peak, teasing that little jewel with the tip of his tongue. Her bucking hips told him she liked that. He experimented with flicking, laving, sucking.
“Hawk.Hawk.” She chanted his name.
