gentle slides against his, tentatively testing his restraint.
Finding the edge of it.
A fire of anticipation immolated in his loins, and he suddenly ached to taste every part of her. To rip her dress open and see if she was as pale as the night suggested. If iridescent veins adorned her breasts and the thin, tender skin on the inside of her thighs. He wanted to mark her with little bites of his teeth, to show the man who had never pleased her that someone was able and oh so willing.
He hitched her skirts higher, hands venturing from her knees up her thighs, finding curious frills, silk garters bedecked with lace and little bows attached with delicate stitches.
His hands played there, plucking at things and testing textures while he savored her mouth for as long as his inflamed body would allow.
Her hands didn’t remain idle.
They rested on the buttons of his coat, releasing them with jerky, uncertain motions until she could wrench it open and slide her hands inside. She explored the width and breadth of him until her arms locked around him.
The uncertain tenderness in the embrace was too much for him to bear.
Morley broke the kiss, pulling back to assess her. To watch her widening eyes as his fingers threaded higher, following the silken expanse of flesh until he met the barrier of her thin cotton drawers.
She tucked her lips between her teeth and trembled, but didn’t look away.
“Tell me again what you want.” He hardly recognized his voice, the dark, growling street accent, the insolence and lust.
She gave a delicate swallow before answering. “I-I can’t say it.”
“You want me to kiss you?” he prodded, covering her mound. “Here?”
She gave a little jump, and her knees clamped his hips, as if they might have closed had his body not impeded it.
“Yes,” she replied with a bashful whisper.
Feminine heat radiated from beneath the thin barrier of her undergarment, and Morley leaned in to lift her hips and draw it down to her ankles.
He wanted to kiss her again. He never wanted to stop kissing her, and because of that, he didn’t allow himself to do so.
Kissing her was dangerous. As was the sweet detention of her arms.
A man could find himself a willing prisoner of such shackles, and he hadn’t the inclination. He hadn’t expected such sweetness. Hadn’t been prepared for the answering emotion evoked in his body.
Best he keep this carnal.
Lowering himself down, he ducked his head beneath her skirts. His shoulders widened her legs and she leaned back, giving him the sense she’d rested her hands on the stone.
In the pure black beneath her skirts, he used his other senses to guide him.
He breathed in the scent of her. Fresh floral soap, feminine musk, and something that reminded him of ripe, summer berries.
He stilled for a moment, just feeling the sensation of what he’d cupped in his hand. The slight tickle of soft hair. Warm, pliant flesh, which parted in a seam of liquid heat.
He separated her folds with a slow slide of his finger, and she clenched around him with surprisingly strong legs.
“Already so wet,” he murmured, delighted.
“Er—should I—?”
“Should has nothing to do with this.” He pressed his shoulders forward, fighting the reflexive tightening of her trembling thighs. “Relax.”
She gave a tremulous sigh, but then she obeyed, her thighs going slack and her heels returning to the ground.
He moved his finger then, wondering if any woman had been quite so soft, so small, so incredibly hot. He allowed himself a gentle, caressing exploration as he pressed a worshipful kiss to her thigh.
She was highly responsive, this woman. She twitched and tightened to his every motion, her breath hitching over little catches in her throat. His finger drew from the well that sprang from the center of her and painted gentle wet swirls on the little nub of engorged flesh.
Christ, she was so ready.
He wouldn’t even have to work for it.
Unable to wait any longer, he lowered his lips to hover above the very core of her.
“Whatever I do, do not scream,” he warned.
In an instant she was tense again. “S-scream?”
But he did not answer her question.
Because he’d parted her sex with one long, powerful lick.
Chapter 3
Pru screamed.
Or, at least, she threw her head back and opened her mouth, but somehow her throat closed over the sound, releasing a choked whimper instead.
Dear God. This was happening. The most beautiful man she’d ever seen up close was now beneath her skirts.