Lady Rosabella's Ruse - By Ann Lethbridge Page 0,47

as fine as any statue and sensually warm to the touch. She laughed. ‘Then you need to rise, sir.’

‘I, you saucy wench, am already well risen.’ He tickled her chin, pressed a kiss to her mouth and stood up.

The sheet dropped to the floor. And there he was, outlined by the glow from the fire in all his male glory.

Open-mouthed, she stared at his large male part jutting up from the dark curls at his loins.

She knew what it was, and where it was supposed to go, but she had never expected it to be quite so substantial, or so stiff. Now the terms ‘riding the pike’ and ‘mounting the pole’ that the women had used as they discussed their adventures made more sense. The only male parts she had seen on statues were, though fascinating to her maidenly eyes, tiny wormlike appendages. They were nothing like this.

Nervously, her gaze shot up to his face. His expression was smug. ‘Do I please you, sweet Rose?’

She swallowed. ‘Yes.’ Oh, dear, that sounded just a little more tentative than she had intended.

He tilted his head on one side and then silently reached out a hand. ‘Come, let us have you out of that gown.’ He easily pulled her to her feet and spun her around.

One hand came around her waist and pulled her back against him. She could feel his member hard against her buttocks. The heat of his body permeated through her gown. His other hand swept her hair from her neck and his lips nuzzled at her nape. She arched her back at the pleasurable sensation.

‘So sensual,’ he mumbled against her skin. ‘I want to eat you all up.’

The words and the lick of his tongue across her nape sent shivers rampaging across her skin. Lovely shivers that penetrated her bones and reached deep inside her core.

He drew her closer, rocking against her, with a soft groan. His hand left her hair and slid down to squeeze and knead her bottom, and the hand at her waist moved up to cup her breast in a hot caress, as the rocking of his hips continued. ‘So soft,’ he murmured.

It felt lovely, but it was only a prelude to what was to come. And she must not remain passive or he would soon find her dull, as the friendly Mrs De Lacy had remarked during one of their discussions. Lady Smythe had turned a bright red, but had nodded as if she agreed.

She reached up and back to run her fingers through his hair. The movement brought her buttocks in closer contact to his groin and her breasts higher. His hand brushed back and forth across their peaks, making them tingle and ache.

He nipped her nape and stepped back. ‘Witch. You’ll have me finished before we start.’

His fingers attacked the fastenings of her gown while she mulled on his words.

Had he not liked her touching him? He hadn’t sounded annoyed, but simply rueful, perhaps amused. She frowned. Was she doing something wrong?

The tugging at her back ceased. His large warm hands slipped over her shoulders and down her arms, pushing the sleeves free of her hands, sliding the fabric over her hips, until with nothing to keep it in place it fell to her feet with a whisper.

She let go her breath in a little huff. Her heart banged against her ribs in warning. She clenched her hands against the urge to run.

‘Easy,’ he breathed, kissing each of her shoulder blades in turn. His hands ran down her arms and clasped her hands, teasing her fingers open, while his mouth kissed the top of her shoulder. Fingers interlaced with his, she relaxed back against his broad warm chest.

‘You’ve nothing to fear,’ he murmured in softly. ‘Only the best of little deaths, I promise.’

Her panic subsided, gentled by his touch and the dark seduction of his voice. She took a deep breath and leaned into him, feeling his strength all down her back. A man like him had the power to protect the weak, or break them. She did not trust him to use his power well, but did she fear him? Not at this moment. For at this moment, she had something he wanted.

She gently freed her fingers and moved her hands backwards, explored the naked flesh of his flanks, so narrow and firm, and the rough-haired muscle of his thighs. More lean strength beneath warm skin.

His hips jerked against her bottom. He muttered something that sounded like a curse, then, ‘Too