The Virgin Who Ruined Lord Gray - Anna Bradley Page 0,94

kind, quiet man who’d slipped out of her life without a trace when he realized he was too kind and quiet for her.

It seemed like a lifetime ago.

This time it was different. Hadn’t she known it would be, from the first moment Tristan’s lips touched hers? Just as she’d known, one way or another, she’d find herself in his bed.

It wasn’t different between them because he was an earl, or because he’d been a Bow Street Runner. It wasn’t because the bed was draped with sumptuous blue silk hangings, or his bedchamber was the most luxurious she’d ever seen.

It was because he was Tristan.

Sophia lay beside him, trembling as his warm fingers slid under the edge of the boy’s tunic she wore. His lips parted, his breath coming faster when he saw she wore nothing underneath. “Soft,” he murmured, brushing his fingertips across the bare skin of her belly. “So perfect, every inch of you.”

Perfect. No, she was far from perfect. He’d find it out for himself sooner or later, and she’d go back to who she’d been before him—the heroine of an adventure or a fairy tale, but never a romance. The thought made Sophia draw back slightly, away from him, but Tristan didn’t give her a chance to go far. He slid his hands up her body, buried them in her hair, and turned her head gently to one side. “I want to see you.” He caught her earlobe between his teeth and nibbled at the tender flesh until he’d tugged a soft gasp from her lips. “Show me, Sophia.”

Sophia lowered her hands to the bottom edge of her tunic and then hesitated, twisting the fabric nervously between her fingers. Privacy was in short supply at the Clifford School, so she’d never been shy about her body, and it wasn’t as if Tristan hadn’t seen her before.

But he hadn’t seen all of her, and he must be accustomed to London’s most beautiful ladies, voluptuous courtesans and wealthy widows with smooth, white skin, who wore the finest silks and knew how to seduce a man. She was small, her curves slight, a waif dressed in coarse black linen with scraped palms and scarred knees.…

Tristan was nipping at the sensitive skin behind her ear and trailing his firm lips up and down her neck, but when she paused, he raised his head and looked down at her. Whatever he saw in her face made him close his hands over hers, still frozen at the edge of her tunic. “You’re exquisite, Sophia.”

Sophia gazed up into those burning gray eyes and her hands relaxed, her fingers going slack around the hem of her tunic. Together they drew it up and over her head. Sophia held her breath, half-anticipating and half-dreading the moment his gaze would fall to her bare curves. He’d seen her breasts before, the first time he’d taken her to his bedchamber, but this… this time it was different.

More, somehow.

Tristan’s eyes held hers as he lowered his mouth to her lips, the tunic drifting from his fingers to the floor. His lips were tentative at first, softly coaxing, opening her for his tongue, but his control slipped when she let out a little moan and sank her fingers into his hair. His kiss became more demanding then, his mouth growing hotter and more insistent as she pressed closer to him, chasing the delicious slide of his tongue against hers.

“I want to taste you.” Tristan’s low growl vibrated against her neck, making her shiver. He scraped his teeth gently over her, his tongue darting out to lick her heated skin before moving lower to suck at the hollow of her neck. He let out a low groan as he felt the frantic flutter of her pulse under his tongue. “Do you want that, Sophia? Do you want my mouth on you everywhere?”

“Yes.” Sophia gripped his hair, closing her eyes at the slide of those silky dark strands between her fingers, the rough scrape of his emerging beard against the center of her chest as he nuzzled his face between her breasts.

“Here, pixie?” he whispered, rubbing his bristled cheek over one stiff nipple. “Do you want my mouth here?”

Dear God, yes. Sophia plunged her fingers deeper into his thick hair and tugged hard, nearly clawing him with her nails in her desperation to feel that friction against her tender nipples again. He growled low in his throat at the sting and dragged his cheek over her other nipple, making her jerk in