Winter's Whispers (The Wicked Winters #10) - Scarlett Scott Page 0,41

she could not. She had to marry well for her sisters’ sakes. Tonight was all she could have.

Their kisses turned ravenous. Their lips moved in a frenzied rhythm, as if they were each striving to devour the other, to commit these frantic moments to their memories. He caught her lower lip in his teeth, and she did the same to him, nipping at him until he groaned. Their hands coasted over each other’s bodies, searching, seeking.

She could feel the hardness of him against her and knew an ache deep within, a longing for that which she should not want. A longing for the mysteries she had read about in A Tale of Love. Yes, she had peeked some more at the pages before returning it to Lady Aylesford.

He dragged his lips from hers, kissing along her jaw. “Sweet Felicity. I have wanted you from the moment I saw your arse peeping from beneath my bed.”

Her skin went hot at the reminder of their ignominious first meeting. Thank heavens Miss Wilhelmina had not gotten into any further scrapes.

“It is…” She paused, struggling to find her words as he once more worked his magic upon the sensitive cords of her neck with his lips, tongue, and teeth. “It is most indecorous of you to remind me of that…day.”

He rubbed the coarseness of his unshaven jaw over her skin, making her knees threaten to buckle. “Have you made my acquaintance, love? There is not one bloody decorous thing about me.”

And he was unapologetic about it, too.

Still, he had been incredibly decorous at the ball. Where he had danced with her, and what he had lacked in experience in that minuet, he more than made up for with his innate charm and his easy confidence.

“I like you this way,” she admitted softly, for it was the truth. “I like you exactly as you are.”

The crudeness of his tongue, the arrogance of his smile, the inking on his hand, the scars of his past, the dangerous aura he exuded, his handsome face. And Lord above, his mouth. Lips like his were in themselves a sin.

His tongue flicked over the hollow at the base of her throat, where her pulse leapt and pounded. “You should not like me, not as I am. Not in any way. You should not be here, love. You know that, do you not?”

“Yes.” The admission fell from her lips as she tipped her head back and clutched his broad shoulders.

“And yet you remain.” He gently bit the place where her shoulder and neck joined, as if in warning.

But there was no warning he could issue that would be sterner than her own or Auntie Agatha’s. Felicity knew she had taken a great risk in coming to him. That she was taking a greater risk still in remaining. In kissing him. In allowing him to kiss and touch her as he would.

“I do,” she agreed.

He tore his mouth from her eager flesh, staring down at her. His bright-blue eyes stole into the deepest recesses of herself. Finding her. Seeing her. “Come with me?”

He released her, laced their fingers together, waiting for her acquiescence.

He hardly needed to ask, but she appreciated that he had. How could he not know she would gladly walk into the fires of Hades if he were leading?

“Yes,” was all she said.

He tugged her toward the bed. She went. Easily, her entire body alight. She felt as if she were alive for the first time. As if she had just risen from a deep and dreamless sleep. As if she could do anything, be anyone.

As if she could be his.

They fell to the bed together, Felicity on her back, Blade atop her. Though he took care to keep from crushing her, the sensation of his large, masculine body on hers was a welcome, delicious weight. They were aligned, hip to heart. But the barriers of his banyan and her night rail remained between them.

He rocked against her, the thick ridge of his manhood glancing over the apex of her thighs in the most erotic friction. And even with the fabric keeping them apart, she felt him. Instinctively, she thrust toward him, seeking more. She was wet, aching, hungry. It was as if a knot had been drawn with excruciating tightness within her. There was only one cure for what ailed her.

And it was Blade Winter.

His big hands were on her, sliding the hem of her gown higher. Revealing her knees, her thighs. Cool air kissed her skin. But it