Page 73

“What are you crocheting, Vangie?”

She froze, scrunching the thing in her fist. When had he stopped reading, and how long had he been watching her? Had he seen it? She glanced up, forcing a genial smile. At least she thought she did. Her lips were turned upward, weren’t they? “Ah, a fichu. Charlotte’s gowns are too revealing for my figure.”

Well, listen to that. I sound quite normal.

Casually unwinding the yarn from around her hand, she noticed his gaze slide to the material stretched taut across her breasts. The low décolletage exposed a generous portion of her flesh.

Ian murmured throatily, “I quite like the fit.”

Startled at the timbre of his voice, her gaze flashed to his. Spying the ravenous look in his eyes, her breath hitched, her mouth rounding into an “O” of surprise. His scorching gaze dropped to the mounds straining against the muslin, and to her chagrin, her nipples hardened.

Dash it all, why must they always do that?

He closed his book and held it up. “I’ve read the same passage four times and have no greater knowledge now what the page contains than I did when I began reading.”

At least he hadn’t crocheted a willy. That showed where her mind was, for pity’s sake.

Ian set his book aside then plucked the crocheting from her hands. He edged closer, his thigh pressing intimately against hers, and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. Tilting her chin upward, his attention lingered on her lips. The slow descent of his head allowed her ample opportunity to resist should she be so inclined.

She wasn’t in the least.

Vangie angled closer, one hand resting on his marble-like thigh, a mere inch from his maleness. When their lips met, passion crashed over her in undulating waves. Flooded with unfamiliar sensation, she could only float on the torrent of want Ian masterfully invoked.

His tongue toyed with her lips, licking the crease until she opened to his insistent entreaty. With his mouth, he taught her what she was eager to learn. Her hesitant responses became bolder as consuming desire swept her along.

She moaned low in her throat, protesting when Ian tore his mouth from her lips. He trailed feathery kisses down her neck, edging lower and lower, until they skimmed her breasts swelling above her bodice. She was mindless against the onslaught, of the quivers spreading through her. She ran frantic hands across the muscular ridges and planes of his chest and torso.

He shifted away.

“No, Ian.”

Ian smiled wickedly at her mew of protest as he shrugged off his jacket. His waistcoat and cravat swiftly followed. He unbuttoned his shirt, yanked the fabric from his waistband then let it slide off his broad shoulders.

My, but he is a finely built man.

Vangie flattened her palm against the smattering of dark hair covering his chest. The curls tapered to a seductive triangle before disappearing into his unfastened pantaloons. A tell-tale bulge proudly strained against the opening.

He reached for the hem of her gown, scrunched halfway up her thighs. Never breaking eye contact, he edged the material upward, inch by inch. Shimmering with the intensity of dozens of miniature stars, the flecks in his eyes held a promise.

Flicking her tongue out, she moistened her lips.

Brushing his calloused fingers over the flesh of her inner thigh, he continued to raise her gown, swirling his fingertips over her skin.

Reality fled as he worked his magic, smothering her breasts and lips with adoration, urging her on with words of love and passion. His whiskers scraped her sensitized flesh, and every pore, every nerve ending, awakened in anticipation.

Vangie tossed her head on the settee cushion, striving for what she knew not. What was he doing to her? Her hands clutched his rigid forearms and his muscled shoulders. Overcome, she had no inclination to be self-conscious or ashamed of the passion-invoked sounds she breathed.

She gasped, nearly incoherent, “Ian, please—” Sensual fire coursed through her veins, a demanding, aching thrumming at her apex. She groaned, her hips frantically undulating. “I can bear no more.”

“Yes, you can, love,” he whispered against her mouth. “Let go, sweeting. Let me take you to heaven.”

She felt the first quivers of her release and yanked her mouth free. Head thrown back, she keened her pleasure. A kaleidoscope of colors erupted behind her eyes as sensation after pulsating, effervescent sensation rippled through her.

Ian glided into Vangie before she finished climaxing. He remained perfectly still, her muscles constricting rhythmically around his length. He gritted his teeth against the exquisite pull, resisting the urge to pour himself into her.

She raised passion-drugged eyes to his, and the muscles in his neck bunched as he struggled for control sheathed in the midst of her hot depths. She would enjoy the full measure of their union this time, though from the stunned look on her lovely face, she’d not as yet realized he possessed her.

He rocked ever-so-gently.