Winter's Woman (The Wicked Winters #9) - Scarlett Scott Page 0,60

because he loved her too. More every day. More than he thought possible.

She kissed his other shoulder, then made her way to his jaw, kissing to his lips with slow, maddening precision. Devil could not wait another moment. He caught her chin and angled her head, sealing their mouths. They kissed long and deep, an exchange of emotion too profound for mere words.

Then she broke the kiss and changed her position, settling between his legs on her knees as she kissed down his chest, following the thin trail of dark hair that led directly to his straining cockstand.

“Evie,” he ground out, not wanting her to take him in her mouth. And also desperately wanting her to take him in her mouth.

She kissed the tip, and when her tongue flicked out to taste him, he could not suppress a moan. Damn, but it was glorious. Until she licked a circle around him before sucking his cock into her pretty mouth. And then it was more than glorious. Wet heat engulfed him. He was in heaven. Bliss. He had died and this was Elysium. He never wanted it to end.

He could not keep still. His hips pumped, sending him deeper into her mouth.

Fuck. If it didn’t end soon, he was going to spill before he was inside her.

Devil reached for her, hauling her up his body before rolling her onto her back once again.

Evie was on her back, Theo a welcome, muscular weight wedged between her thighs. His mouth was on hers, feasting, feeding. Love and desire swirled through her, making her almost dizzied with the force of it. She trembled beneath his questing hands, beneath his supple lips and fierce kisses.

All the months they had waited to be married had been worth it for this.

For him.

She would have waited forever, if she’d had to. Evie was quite glad she hadn’t had to.

She held Theo to her, wrapping her legs around his hips. His familiar, beloved scent washed over her. Leather, bay, man. Theo. Her fingertips trailed over his broad shoulders, seeking anywhere she could touch him. His manhood was rigid and thick and tempting, prodding her throbbing flesh where she wanted him most.

It was almost impossible to believe he was hers at last.

That they were married, the promise of their life together before them, bright as the morning sun. She was still the daughter of a duke, but now she was Mrs. Theodore Winter, and that was the title she wore with the most pride. Their tongues tangled. Heat pooled between her thighs. She ached for him to touch her there.

His lips moved, enchanting her everywhere they traveled. He dropped kisses all over her without pattern or reason. Collarbone, shoulder, nipple. The inside of her elbow. Her hip. Lower, to her knee. Her ankle. He kissed the arch of her foot, his gaze hot and dark-blue, arresting in its intensity. He kissed her in places she had never dreamt she would long to be kissed. But this was Theo, and everywhere his lips found her, the fires of passion raged. She writhed on the bed, desperate for more.

The flames roared higher.

His lips moved along her inner thigh, nearing her center.

She ached.

“I want inside you, Evie,” he whispered against her skin. “I want inside you so badly.”

“Yes.” She wanted that too. She wanted him desperately. Anything. Everything.

She was panting with her need, breathless, heart pounding.

“I don’t want to hurt you, love.” He kissed her mound, and she jerked beneath him, quite shameless. “I am big and you are so bloody small.”

“You shan’t hurt me,” she promised him, for she knew it was the truth.

He was Theo, kind and sweet. A tender heart wrapped in a big, lumbering body. He would be gentle. For a man who had been the recipient of such cold cruelty in his life—for he had confessed to her, over the last few months, all of his past, from his mother to Cora, to the hard life he had led for so long—he was astonishingly sweet.

“I need to make you ready,” he whispered, licking over the incredibly sensitized bundle of flesh he had already pleasured numerous times.

“I am ready,” she assured him, and would have said more if he hadn’t nibbled on her, sending white-hot desire shooting through her like stars. She jolted beneath him, moaning, shamelessly planting her feet on the bed to drive herself higher, to offer more of herself to him.

Good heavens. If this was what he wanted to do, she could most certainly become more