A Scot in the Dark (Scandal & Scoundrel #2) - Sarah MacLean Page 0,58
her flying, and he returned to her lips, playing over them gently, softly, teasing her with his tongue until she gasped at the sensation and he took full advantage, tasting her silken heat with long, luxurious promise.
She groaned, unexpected and unfiltered, and he went hard as iron beneath her, wanting that sound again and again—that proof of her pleasure. Of her passion.
Her fingers slid into his hair, then, and she held him close, meeting his tongue with hers, matching him with a kiss that threatened to send them both up in flames, along with the carriage.
He growled his pleasure and captured her face between both hands, holding her still as he kissed her, stealing her sighs like a thief.
And he was a thief. Taking without hesitation.
Or perhaps it was she who was the thief.
They stole together.
Marauded together.
Pillaged together.
And it was the most glorious thing he’d ever experienced. Her hands slid inside his shredded jacket as she moved against him, and he lifted her skirts, sliding his hands up her silk-clad thighs, lifting her again, setting her down astride him, scandalous and secret and everything he’d ever wanted.
The carriage bounced again, and she clutched his sides, gasping against his lips at the movement. “Alec,” she whispered. “Please.” No. She didn’t whisper. She begged. And how was he to deny her, especially when she lowered herself to his lap. To him.
He was wickedly hard, too-tight trousers suddenly, brutally uncomfortable.
He groaned her name, stealing her lips again as he pulled her closer, until he could feel the heat of her through his trousers and her pantaloons, and one of her hands slid up, over his chest and shoulders and into his hair again, pulling him close as her tongue met his again and again, and he ached for more of her.
Her free hand clutched one arm, moving it, directing it, sliding it up her bodice to the place where silk met beautiful, pristine skin. “Touch me,” she sighed. “Please.”
He had to stop. They had to stop. He lifted his lips, gasping for breath. “Lily. We mustn’t.”
She opened her eyes, desire warring with something far more complicated in them. He could feel her heart racing beneath his fingers, where she held his hand to her, where she burned him with her beauty. “Please, Alec,” she said, soft as silk. “Please want me.”
She made it sound like it was a choice. As though he did not ache for every inch of her. As though he did not wish to claim her in the most primal way possible and erase the memory of every man she had ever desired.
As though he were worthy of her.
His throat worked as he fought for strength, and he might have found it. Might have, if she did not take matters into her own hands. If she did not take his hand into her own, moving it until it cupped one full, glorious breast. “Please, Alec.”
He resisted the urge to move, terrified that if he did, she might continue with this mad temptation. Terrified that if he did, she might stop.
Instead, he extracted his hand from the heat of her skirts and took her face in his hands. He pulled her close, as close as possible without taking her lips, and looked deep in her eyes, the dim light of the lanterns beyond the windows casting wicked shadows across her beautiful face. “Show me,” he said.
But what he really meant was Use me.
Her eyes widened at the words, and for a moment he thought her shock would stay her. As he watched, however, the surprise turned to desire and, like a gift from God, she did as he asked.
As she was told.
Time slowed in the small space, her hand guiding his, pressing him tight against her. “Touch me here,” she said.
He did, feeling her tighten beneath his palm, even through the layers of clothing. She sighed her frustration, pushing into him, eager for more, just as he was. He took pity on her. “Do you intend to wear this dress again?”
She didn’t understand. “What?”
“The dress. Are you wedded to it?”
She shook her head. “It is awful.”
“Then let’s do right by it,” he growled, his massive hands coming to the neckline and grasping. Without hesitation, he pulled, and tore the bodice in two, freeing her to his hands and gaze.
She gasped her surprise. “You—”
He had no time for discussion. “Show me, Lily.”
And she did, setting his hand to her breast. They groaned their mutual pleasure at the contact before Alec plucked at