Lady Rosabella's Ruse - By Ann Lethbridge Page 0,80
hummed through her veins. A pulse beat low in her abdomen. Excitement stole her breath as desire took hold. But she wanted to give him pleasure, not just receive. Her hand drifted over the strawberries, her eyes selecting the ripest of the fruit in the bowl. She swirled it slowly in the cream.
From a sidelong glance, she watched his gaze follow the movement, his lips already parting, his teeth gleaming white, ready to bite. She scooped up a mountain of cream on the berry and dabbed it on his chin.
His dark eyes twinkled.
And she cleaned it off with several licks of her tongue. The faint graze of his stubble on her tongue had the feel of a cat’s lick. She purred.
His eyes creased. ‘Oh, my sweet Rosabella,’ he breathed. ‘There are many more uses for strawberries and cream.’ An eyebrow shot up. ‘If you dare.’
This was what he was getting from their marriage. This physical enjoyment. And she enjoyed it just as much and saw no reason to be ungenerous. Indeed, after all he had done for her, he deserved far more. ‘I dare,’ she whispered, flashing him a saucy glance. ‘If you do.’
He laughed. Loud and free. A sound full of joy. ‘Oh, little nun, do you know how you tempt me? Come.’ He took her hand. ‘This game needs no barriers between us.’
He pulled her to her feet and twirled her around and made short work of the fastenings on her gown. While he nuzzled her neck, he pushed the gown down her arms and over her hips. It slid to the floor, and she stepped out of it, turning to face him.
‘I’m not finished.’
She smiled. ‘Your turn.’ She undid the buttons on his coat and pushed the tight-fitting garment off his shoulders. She tugged and pulled at the soft wool, dragging it down his muscled arms. Panting, she pulled it off and cast it aside. ‘My word, that jacket is tight.’
No response. She glanced up at him and found his gaze fixed on her breasts rising and falling from her exertions. He raised his eyes to her face and she almost drowned in the heat of his desire.
Her insides turned liquid. She flung her arms around his neck, kissed those wonderful sensual smiling lips and leaned in to him. His hands came to her hips, large, warm, gentle. He cupped her buttocks and pulled her hard against his length. His arousal pressed against her belly.
Lovely. Pleasurable. Wildly entrancing. A tilt of her pelvis brought him closer to where she needed him. Urgency flowed through her blood.
Sweeping his mouth with her eager tongue, she tasted strawberries and cream. A hand stroked circles on her back and came around to cup her breast lightly. Too lightly for the powerful waves of longing sweeping through her.
A groan rumbled in his throat. He broke away, his breathing harsh. ‘Turn around, sweet. Let us be done with these clothes.’
He stripped her of her stays and chemise and carried her to the bed. Feverishly he untied her garters and ripped off her stockings, all tangled up with her shoes. His hot gaze raked her body as he tore at his cravat, flinging it aside. The shirt quickly followed. He toed off his shoes and peeled off his pantaloons.
She gazed at him. Her almost-husband. So glorious in his nakedness, so lean and finely drawn. His arousal jutted straight up, engorged and dark and magnificent.
An instrument of pleasure.
‘Do you like what you see?’
A slow perusal up the flat stomach ridged with muscle, over the wide sleek-as-a-Thoroughbred chest, up a strong column of throat to his face. He was watching her with desire, and something else—pride. Not the pride of arrogance, but a defiant pride, as if he thought she might reject him. Puzzled, she stared at him and saw a vulnerability she had not expected.
‘I approve very much.’ She licked her lips and his gaze followed the movement.
It seemed to break the spell, for he returned to their table and brought the strawberries and cream to the bed. ‘I hope you won’t mind if we dispense with the sugar?’ His eyes gleamed wickedness, brimming with mischief. ‘I am guessing it will be worse than sand for getting in places it is not supposed to be.’
‘I will take your advice,’ she said, ‘for I am sure you have lots of experience.’
He darted a glance from under lowered lashes, then smiled. ‘Not at all. Just an assumption.’