in his blood, raging with the need to possess her. She did not resist. Instead, she sighed into his mouth, and her hands settled on his shoulders. Not pushing him away. Her fingers dug into him, spurring him on.
Everything about her was fierce. Each time they kissed, it was feral. Elemental. They were two wild creatures, madly clashing. He thought of the first time he had taken her lips, of how she had bitten his tongue until she had drawn blood. Oddly, the memory only heightened his driving need.
His cock pressed against the fall of his trousers with painful insistence, and his ballocks ached. His body cried out with the need to raise that gown and plunge inside her. But he would not do it. Not yet.
For now, he would mollify his ravenous lust with her mouth.
He sucked on her lower lip, taking his time, consuming her. She tasted sweet, like chocolate. When he caught that fullness between his teeth and nipped, she made a small mewl. Sin took her face in his hands, holding her still for his onslaught. Her skin was smoother than silk. Her pulse beat a wild pattern.
She wanted him as much as he wanted her. He was certain of it. What a pair they were—two enemies who despised each other. Together, they were combustible. Who would have thought? Perhaps their marriage bed would not be a cold place after all.
Still taking his time, Sin kissed the corners of her lips, then the perfectly formed upper bow. Her mouth was gorgeous. Made for sinning. Made for kisses. It was the color of crushed berries and just as succulent. He wondered how it would feel, wrapped around his aching cockstand.
Groaning, Sin deepened the kiss. His tongue swept inside her mouth slowly. He explored her, running his tongue against hers, the velvet recesses beyond. She tasted even sweeter, even more delicious. And her lips were moving against his. Her tongue slid into his mouth, too. One quick foray. A silken glide.
Fuck.
He had not anticipated the surge of overwhelming desire that little flick of her tongue sent through him. He had never expected to want her this much. Her response made an answering pulse of need throb to life. His fingers sank into the sleek upsweep of her dark hair, finding pins and plucking.
The need to dismantle her careful toilette hit him, full-force.
He wanted to mark her. To claim her in every way. He wanted her to see her reflection later, in the glass, and remember he was the one who had kissed her senseless, let down her hair. To remember she would be his.
And soon.
Not soon enough.
Pins were dropping, and her hair was falling around her shoulders in thick, luxurious curls. He bit her lip gently and then forced himself to break the kiss. Instead, he kissed her chin, her jaw. He found her wildly flitting pulse, opened his mouth over the creamy skin of her throat. He nipped and sucked, wanting her to see that mark, as well. The evidence he had touched and kissed her, that she had liked it. He scraped her sensitive skin with his teeth.
She purred like a cat.
Damn, but that sound nearly undid him. He wanted to hear her make it again and again. He wanted her to cry out his name as he thrust into her. He wanted…
“Ahem.”
The loud, pointed clearing of a feminine throat dashed his thoughts of what he wanted. His blood roared in his ears, his heart thundering, lust coursing through him like a flooded river.
But there was an intruder, and he had gone too far.
Sin lifted his head and stepped away from Lady Calliope, whose eyes were dazed and so dark they were almost obsidian. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her hair a tangle of brunette curls around her face, and the creamy flesh of her throat was pink from the abrasion of his whiskers. The roaring in his ears continued. He liked the way she looked, thoroughly ravished and utterly his.
Turning away from her required summoning all the control he had. But they had an audience, and even a man with a reputation as depraved as his knew he could not make love to his betrothed against a wall whilst someone else looked on.
Well, he could…
Grinding his jaw against the wicked thought, Sin turned, taking care to block Lady Calliope from view with his larger body. The aunt stood there, her eyes wide.
“Mademoiselle Beaulieu,” he greeted, just barely keeping himself from calling her Aunt