Page 45 of The Lyon's Pretty Pugilist

“You have me off kilter, too,” she said, her breasts rising and falling with each quick breath.

Their honesty felt so right that Nicolas would do everything in his power to keep it going.

“I want you so much,” he said. “I have from the very first second I saw you.”

Her thick lashes fluttered as she swathed him in an adoring gaze. To think, days ago, her regard held venom.

“But you are innocent,” he said. “What kind of man would I be if I took advantage of that?”

Shrugging, she ran her hand over his thigh, her fingertips pressing into his muscles. His cock pounded against his trousers.

“I cannot stay innocent forever,” she said. “And I am quite coachable.”

To be the first man to make love to this exquisite woman made up for every misfortune Nicolas had ever suffered.

Fondling her breasts over the top of her dress, he luxuriated in the plump, soft mounds.

Closing her eyes, she sighed, giving him the signal he needed to continue.

He dragged his finger along the line where her bodice met soft skin, then followed his touch with tender kisses.

One of her hands wrapped around his neck as the other continued to dig into his thigh.

He was certain she would say yes, but he asked anyway. “May I touch you, Josie?”

She opened her eyes and blinked. “You are touching me.”

“Here?” he asked as he dipped his finger into her bodice.

She moaned. “Oh, yes. Please.”

It took effort to pull his finger from her cleavage, and yet the reward awaiting him if he were more patient would be a hundred times more pleasurable for them both.

He gently turned her. Taking his time, he undid each tiny button, then slid the dress over her shoulders. Pink satin pooled around her waist. Bestrewing her feminine neck and powerfully built shoulder blades with kisses, he untied her stays.

Once her torso was bare, she faced him. The pulse in her neck ticked rapidly. Her muscular biceps tapered into dainty wrists. She was so healthy and vital, and damn if that didn’t make him feral.

She leaned forward and kissed him. The second her breasts rubbed against his shirt, he had to touch.

Perfect! One plump mound for each of his palms. He tested out their weight with a gentle squeeze.

She gasped.

He nudged her backward until she was propped against the settee, her breasts on display. A cornucopia of creamy, unblemished skin and two rosy nipples, all for him!

While he caressed and massaged goddess-like breasts, her fingers threaded through his hair, and she undulated beneath him. Goose flesh dotted her skin. Her nipples pebbled, reaching for him, begging to be touched. He traced a gentle circle around each tip before lowering his head to suckle.

Moaning, she arched into him, and her grip on his neck tightened. He lost track of time, touching, tasting, and coaxing gasps of pleasure from his responsive pugilist.

The more he took, the more he wanted. Were her thighs as sinewy as her arms and back? Was the hair on her cunny as silky as the strands he’d just tangled his fingers in? Did her cunny taste as sweet as her mouth? Would she cry out loudly or whimper softly when she came on his tongue?

He caressed his way down her firm obliques and slowly slid her skirt up, revealing first her calves, then her knees, and finally thighs so well-formed she could ride a man from London to heaven. Dark curls protected her precious quim.

He swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

“Nicolas,” she whispered, fingers still clutching his thigh. Just a few inches more, and she’d be palming his cock.Yes and please!

His gaze traveled upward until he met her eyes. “Tell me, Josephine?”