Page 71 of How the Earl Entices

“Yes,” she breathed, so softly that the whisper was barely audible.

But he heard and stalked toward her, his dark gaze never leaving hers in the shadows. When he reached her, he cupped her face between his hands and seized her mouth beneath his.

Heat and need flared instantly between them. With a throaty moan, she wrapped her arms around his neck to bring herself against him. The warmth of him reached her through her dress, so did the hardness of his body pressing against the softness of her breasts and thighs as she molded herself against him, to be as close to him as possible.

“Grace,” he implored in a throaty murmur.

Knowing what he wanted, she parted her lips beneath his, and his tongue plunged inside. No exploring or teasing licks this time—only hard and desperate thrusts that captured her mouth completely in a singularly focused kiss that left no mistaking the way he planned on possessing all of her tonight. One filled with such desire and longing that she shuddered beneath the intensity of it.

When he shoved his hands into her hair, pulling the pins loose and scattering them across the floor, she gasped at the rough caress. But he drank in the sound, cupping the back of her head to hold her still as he continued to ravish her mouth.

She trembled. This wasn’t kissing—this wasneed. Raw, hungry…desperate. Beneath the onslaught of his kiss, she moaned with increasing desire.

She tore her mouth away to pant for air, but he gave her no quarter, his hands sliding down her back to cup her bottom through the gold brocade dress as his mouth found her neck. Her pulse spiked beneath his lips. He groaned a satisfied growl as the tip of his tongue flicked rapidly against her throat, as if he could lick up her heartbeat and devour her desire.

Squeezing her bottom, he pulled her against him. An electric yearning pulsed between her legs at the sensation of his hardening arousal jutting into her belly. Tonight he would be hers. For once there would be no loneliness, no emptiness, no doubt or fear—there would be only Ross, wanting her as a woman, making her feel beautiful despite the scar that marred her. There would be the absolute certainty of knowing that giving herself to him was right and good.

He trailed his lips over her chin to once more capture her mouth. Soverygood.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” she murmured against his mouth.

His hand swept up her body to grab her neckline and yank it down, revealing a single breast to his eyes. With a wicked grin, he strummed his thumb over the already hard nipple, making it draw up even tighter in the moonlight. “I have a pretty good suspicion.”

Then he darted his head down to capture her breast in his mouth, sucking so hard and deep that his cheeks hollowed with every fierce pull. She inhaled a shuddering breath when he gave her nipple a sharp nip, followed by a soothing stroke of his tongue that turned her gasp into a whimper.

Her fingers twisted in his hair, and she arched into him, bringing him even harder against her, thrusting her breast even deeper into his mouth. He drew back his head, releasing her breast from his lips with a softpop. The circle where his hot mouth had been glistened wet in the moonlight. When he blew against her nipple, the rush of cool air against hot flesh was jarring and flared an unbearable throbbing between her legs.

“Ross!” She tossed back her head at the exquisite torture. Oh, that mouth! She knew the pleasures it could bring, and she wanted him to lick and suck everywhere, as much as she craved having her own mouth on him.

Her hands tore at his clothes, fisting his lapels and trying to rip the jacket right off his broad shoulders. She nearly groaned. He’d spent most of the day walking around in practically nothing but those tightly fitted breeches that flaunted his hard thighs and the large bulge of his manhood nestled between, driving her mad with the temptation he presented and the wicked fantasies she’d let spin through her mind. But now that she wanted to give herself to him, to feel bare skin against bare skin with no more barriers between them, too many layers kept him from her.

A cry of frustration poured from her. “Clothes,” she panted out. “I can’t—get them off—I can’t—”

He grabbed her shoulders and bent her forward over the worktable. His hand yanked at the back of her dress, and the brocade gave way with a loud rip. With her back bare to him, he shoved his hands beneath the gaping bodice and reached around her to clasp both breasts in his hands.

“Better?” he drawled hotly in her ear as he kneaded her breasts. His fingers teased at her aching nipples, twisting them, pinching and pulling, with an expertise that sent her head swimming. The roughness of his caresses made the ache between her thighs grow more intense, more demanding for release.

“I meantyourclothes,” she protested, closing her eyes against the sweet torment as she lay bent over the table, with Ross’s large body leaning rapaciously over hers from behind.

He licked between her bare shoulder blades, sending a hot shiver curling down her spine. “But removing yours is so much more fun.”

A delicious rush of feminine power surged out to the tips of her fingers and toes. “Then remove them,” she ordered, her voice trembling with anticipation.

With a growl, he grabbed her dress and ripped the fabric, tearing down her back and over her buttocks as they jutted into the air. Another hard tug, and the skirt and petticoat ripped in two all the way down through the hem, leaving her backside bare to the moonlight and to the heat of his gaze.

The front of her dress fell away from her shoulders, to land in the crook of her elbows as she leaned on her forearms. She was naked now except for her stockings, all of her laid out bare and vulnerable across the table. Like a feast for him to devour.

“Sweet Lucifer,” he murmured, reverently trailing his hand down her spine, from her nape to that point where it disappeared between her buttocks. Then he caressed his hands over her bottom and down the backs of her legs, to tease at the lace hem where her stockings clung to her thighs.

But she wanted his hands higher,neededto have him stoking the throbbing ache at her core until the pleasure burst through her.

In wanton invitation, she stepped her legs apart. “Please.”

A low groan sounded from the back of his throat, and he swept his hand up between her thighs to cup her sex.

She quivered against his palm and fought back a shout of joy when he began to stroke his hand against her. Long, smooth caresses, each one growing harder and deeper, until he slid a finger inside her.

Her breath strangled, all of her tensing at the new intimacy. Then she relaxed with a deep moan and welcomed him into her warmth. A second finger joined the first, stretching her deliciously wider.