Grace.”
“Yes, it does.” He hauled her into his arms again and kissed her like he’d wanted to from the moment she had arrived for dinner wearing that ridiculous headdress. He teased her lips apart with the tip of his tongue and slowly, sensually swept inside her mouth. He would never get enough of her taste or the softness of her lips. With a sigh, she wiggled even closer. Her breasts flattened against him. He wanted to taste her there, too.
He broke the kiss before he crossed a boundary then hugged her to him. “Is there anything else you would like to offer your future husband?” He tried to speak with humor, but his voice had grown hoarse.
She laid her head against his shoulder; her quick puffs of breath tickled his neck. Her fingers twined with the hair at his nape, creating pleasurable shivers along his spine. He was hard and ached for her.
“You may have all of me, Your Grace, although I cannot promise you will always like everything. What more do you have to offer me?”
Even though her question rang with playful innocence, it aroused him.
“I’m afraid you may not like everything about me either, but it’s yours as well.”
She lifted her head and met his gaze. Something in her posture indicated a shift. She had lost the lighthearted air she’d had. “I’ll try not to be a disappointment to you, Luke. I promise.”
“You could never disappoint me.”
***
“But—” Vivi’s protest was swallowed up by his kiss. When his mouth moved against hers, she forgot everything. Her awareness was only of him and his effect on her.
The sound of her heart in her ears.
His scent and heat surrounding her.
A faint trace of tart lemonade lingering on his lips.
Egads. And something was digging into her belly again. She reached between them to adjust whatever object he kept in his pocket. A loud hiss slipped from his lips.
She froze with Luke in her hand. No wonder he had stopped her in the stable yard. Dear Lord, she wanted to bury her head in the sand. Now she had done the most humiliating thing of her life. Her fingers refused to work properly, and they tightened around him instead of letting him go.
“Careful,” he said, his breath coming out in heavy pants.
“Am I hurting you?”
“God, no.”
She tipped her head to the side and studied his expression in the scant moonlight. Touching him there seemed to be the opposite of painful. She tentatively tested her observation and squeezed. His body gave a small jerk against her palm.
“Vivian.” His tone held a note of warning.
Curiosity overrode her initial embarrassment. “What does it do to you when I touch your…your…?” She raised her eyebrows in question.
“Some ladies refer to it as my manhood.”
Manhood? She giggled partly from nerves and definitely from discomfort with the thought of other ladies having held him this intimately. “I don’t want to call it what other ladies have. Supply me with another term.”
He leaned his forehead against hers and gulped. His breath feathered over her cheeks. “Call it my cock.”
She repeated the word in her head before she dared to speak it aloud. Her fingers curled tighter around him to gauge his size, and he groaned softly.
“Vivian.” He spoke her name, not as a warning this time, but with reverence.
“What does it do when I hold your cock?”
He slipped his hand into her wet hair, his finger splayed to cradle her head, and he kissed her until she forgot her question. Almost. Gently tugging her hair, he angled her neck to expose her throat and placed his lips on her sensitive skin. His tongue swept over the hollow of her collarbone then slowly licked up her neck and captured her earlobe. Chills raced through her body with searing heat following in its path.
This was the most daring and exhilarating game she had ever played, and like Luke, she played to win. “What…does it…do to you?” she repeated, uncertain if she would be able to focus on his answer even if he gave one.
“It drives me to madness.” He trailed kisses along her jawline and over her cheekbone. His moist lips touched her eyelid and lingered. “Your touch makes me want to behave in ungentlemanly ways. Unless you wish to learn the meaning of ungentlemanly, you should release me.”
She was certain Lana’s husband was ungentlemanly with her, and her friend never complained. Perhaps Vivian did want to know the meaning. She squeezed him again.
“Vivian Worth, if you continue down this path, I’ll