The Bromance Book Club - Lyssa Kay Adams Page 0,74

been knocked into fine particles of useless dust the instant he removed that blindfold and she realized he’d taken her to buy art supplies for their date. She could barely remember why she needed the barriers in the first place when little zings of pleasure ping-ponged from one body part to the next.

“God, Thea,” he moaned, kissing a line down her jaw to her throat. She tilted her head and gave him access. His hand drifted up her waist into her shirt until his thumb brushed the underside of her breast. “Can I touch you?”

Thea shuddered with a yes. His fingers pushed aside the lace of her bra and caressed the hard tip of her nipple. She couldn’t stifle her reaction. She wrenched her lips from his and let her head fall backward with a groan. His lips found a new home on the sensitive pulse in her throat, while his fingers working magic against her swollen, aching breast. He flicked, rolled, tugged on the hard point of her nipple. All the while, his tongue plunged in and out of her mouth with an erotic rhythm.

Thea sat up and pulled off her sweatshirt. Gently, but with a sense of urgency, Gavin slipped a finger beneath each bra strap and tugged them down over her shoulders. Her breasts popped free of their binding, and she reached around to undo the clasp. There was a rush of cold and then a flash of heat as his hands covered her flesh.

She moaned and covered his hands with hers. His mouth claimed hers, his tongue plundered her mouth as his hands kneaded, his fingers twisted and flicked her hardened nipples.

Butter suddenly barked and leaped up to chase something in the yard.

Thea jumped, the interruption like a slap of common sense. She slipped off his lap and held her arm across her breasts. “Oh my God. What are we doing?”

Gavin shifted uncomfortably. “Making out.”

“We haven’t made out like that in a long time.” Thea tried to catch her breath as she pulled her sweatshirt back on.

“Maybe we should,” Gavin rasped between breaths. He rolled his head to stare down at her, and the look in his eyes was as terrifying as it was heartwarming.

“I should go to bed,” she said.

“I’ll come with you.”

“No.” Thea shook her head and stood. “I—I need some time.”

Gavin stood and blocked her path. “Look at me.”

She did, but reluctantly. His eyes bore into hers, asking questions that couldn’t be conveyed in words. “If we’re going too fast for you, we can take things slower. You set the pace, Thea. I promise. I won’t push you.”

At her silence, he lowered his forehead to hers. “Talk to me, Thea. Please.”

“I’m scared, Gavin.” The words were out of her mouth before she could think about the consequences of such truth.

But he answered with a truth of his own. “So am I.”

Courting the Countess

Oh, she could get lost for days in here, Irena thought as she took in the towering shelves of the library. If only she could. Benedict had been gone ten days. Ten days without a word from him or anyone else about what was happening at Ebberfield.

And the only thing more infuriating than his inadequate explanations was her own dismay at his long absence.

Irena had taken to exploring the library at night to keep from going mad.

“Looking for something?”

With a startled gasp, Irena whirled in the dark. Across the room, Benedict lounged like a lazy cat on a small couch. He raised his hand in a casual greeting that spoke of familiarity between them. His stocking-clad feet hung over the arm, and his shoulders filled out the cushion beneath him. He’d removed his jacket and cravat, leaving the skin of his throat exposed to her gaze.

“You’re home,” she said as calmly as one could with a racing heart.

“I am,” he said, his voice low and tired.

“I didn’t hear you arrive.” And why the bloody hell didn’t you tell me?

“I did not wish to wake you.”

Irena curled her bare toes into the rug. “What are you doing in here?”

“Perhaps the same thing you are.”

“You’re looking for books about the engineering of ancient Roman chariots?”

“Thankfully, no.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Avoiding the temptation of the unlocked door separating our bedchambers.”

“No. Not the same thing at all, then.”

His hand flopped inelegantly against his chest. “You wound me, my dear.”

A smile tugged at her lips despite her best effort to maintain a well-deserved state of self-righteous indignation. “I didn’t even know you were home,