Chapter Nine
Her question sethim aflame.
His cockstand was instant. The longing thundering through him so tremendous he forgot to breathe. It was bigger than him, overpowering, claiming his every good intention where Lady Evangeline Saltisford was concerned. Burning any shreds of honor he possessed into ash.
He would never know which of them moved first. All he did know was that one moment, she was standing before him, her countenance more vulnerable than he had ever seen, unfairly beautiful with her golden hair unbound down her back and a dressing gown to shield her modesty. The next, she was in his arms, and their lips were fused.
Soft, supple breasts collided with his chest. Her curves pressed into him, making his heart pound. Not even the rush he had experienced earlier when he had taken on Sean O’Neal in an impromptu bareknuckle match could compare. He was exhilarated. Fancy cove words. He blamed them on her.
He blamed everything on her, along with the fact he had discovered all the information he needed tonight in the East End, and the answers he had garnered meant by morning’s light, they could put an end to this farce. He had already formed a battle plan on his way back to the townhome. Tomorrow, he would do everything he could to make certain Evie never again needed to fear for her safety.
But none of those facts could keep him from wanting her now.
Or from kissing her with everything he had.
He licked the seam of her lips.God, she was sweet. Sweeter than he deserved. Her tongue stroked against his as she welcomed his kiss, welcomed him. Her response proved his undoing. He was not going to take her. No matter what she thought she wanted, he knew better. The mere hours they had remaining was not enough time. There was nothing he could offer her save desire.
And he meant to give it.
Meant to make her quake and lose control, ache gloriously until she splintered into a thousand jagged shards of herself. Never mind his battered knuckles, his bruised face. He felt no pain. All he knew was the undeniable urge to taste her. Touch her. Bring her pleasure.
He broke the kiss and lifted her in his arms with ease. Her curves were generous, but she was deliciously short, and he was a big, muscled oaf. She felt as light as air. Perfect, tucked against him. As if she belonged. He wanted to keep her there forever.
But he could not.
He could only have tonight—Christ, this morning or whatever hour it was. Dawn had not yet broken, and the servants had yet to scramble into action. He had time. Precious little, but time enough.
He stalked toward the bed, his gaze riveted to her face. Flushed with passion, gold-brown eyes wide, lips swollen from his kiss. His. For the next hour and no more.
“You want me to touch you?” he asked gruffly.
“Yes.” She did not hesitate in her affirmation, the throaty dulcet tone of her voice washing over him like a caress.
Fucking hell.
He had always known she was going to be trouble, from the first moment he had clapped eyes upon her. But he had never known just how much. How badly he would want her.
None of that mattered now. He laid her gently on the bed. “I let you tend me. It’s my turn to tend you, my lady.”
He was going to make her spend. If he could never have her again, at least he could know how she tasted. He could have her on his lips, tongue. Make her writhe and quake and come undone beneath him.
With trembling fingers, he unhooked the buttons lining the front of her dressing gown. If he had but one moment to savor her, he was going to see her, damn it. He was going to have the memory of her naked and glorious, awaiting him on his bed, forever imprinted upon his mind. She shrugged out of the sleeves and rose to her knees on the mattress, clad in nothing save another of her desperately taunting night rails. Together, they tugged the gown over her head.
For a moment, he lost the ability to speak. His tongue was sluggish and insufficient. His mind affected by a cloud of sheer, unrepentant desire. He inhaled the scent of ripe apples and sin and temptation. Evie. A goddess. More beautiful than his pathetic imagination had been able to envision.
Full, pale breasts tipped with hard, pink nipples. So much smooth, delicious skin. Wide hips, lush thighs, her mound covered by a thatch of golden curls. His mouth was watering. He was out of his mind. A Bedlamite. For as long as he lived, he would never forget the sight of her bare for him, awaiting him, his to pleasure.
“Lie down,” he ordered her, his voice hoarse with the power of his need.
He was going to suck her pearl until she spent all over his tongue. And then he was going to do it again.
She did as he asked, lying back on the counterpane which had been brought by a servant to replace the one she had thieved from him the night she had worn it about her shoulders like a cloak. She pressed her legs together, the flush on her cheeks deepening.
She was shy and innocent, his Evie. And bloody beautiful.
He joined her on the bed, daring to glide his bare palms up her calves, past her knees. Her skin was silken and creamy. He could do nothing but worship her. He lowered his head, pressed kisses along her inner thigh as he caressed her.
“Relax for me, love.”
