Page 4 of The Rogue’s Countess

White heat skimmed over her skin, and her head fell back as his mouth nipped at the side of her neck and moved downward. A fraction of a second later, his tongue slid hot and wet into the valley between her breasts. It was a decadent caress that pulled a low moan of pleasure from her. It made her crave something even more intense and intimate.

Desire washed over her at a frightening speed as somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized exactly what she’d been missing from her marriage bed. Wild and erratic, her heartbeat pounded loudly in her ears as molten heat streamed its way through her belly down to the sensitive spot between her legs. The rush of warmth there tugged a small cry from her as she shuddered against him.

“Oh, please, I…please. I want…” she gasped.

In a bold move that made her heart thud violently, she stroked him through his trousers. He jerked at her caress then pulled her tighter, trapping her hand between them until his erection pressed deeply into her palm. A shudder rippled through her at the thought of him inside her, while a small voice cried out a warning. Desire silenced the soft cry. A dark growl rumbled in his chest. The sound reverberated against her lips before he lifted his head to stare down at her.

“I think it best I let you return to the ballroom before I lose control completely,” he rasped.

Desire blazed in the depths of his gray eyes as he stared down at her. It was clear he was attempting to be a gentleman despite the heated caresses that had already passed between them. The fact that he was unwilling to push his advantage said a great deal about the kind of man he was—a man who was honorable enough to forego acting on his carnal needs.

This was a man who would be a considerate lover. He would never take without giving in return. The knowledge sent a pulse of stark need streaking through her. If only for this singular moment in time, she wanted to experience a lover’s touch without revulsion or dread.

“I don’t want to return to the ballroom,” she whispered and impulsively tugged her head down to his.

All she wanted was to feel alive—to revel in an ecstasy she’d never experienced in her life. His mouth spoke of passion, but his touch was gentle as he stroked his fingers along the curve of her neck.

There would never be another moment such as this, and every second was a gift she would cherish. This brief interlude would be a memory she would summon whenever she was faced with the harsh reality of her daily life. It would remind her that someone had once touched her gently and passionately. She would remember that for a few short moments she had been more than an object used to satisfy the base physical needs of a man.

The spicy scent of him filled her nostrils. He smelled clean, strong, and powerful. Every part of him overwhelmed her senses until desire violently stripped her of all reason. She didn’t protest as he guided her off the path into the darkness of the foliage that lined the path. Instead, she went willingly, frantically as her body demanded something she’d never experienced before, but she still recognized it. The cool night air nipped at her thigh before a large hand seared her skin. From deep within her, a passion rose up to engulf her until her mouth was clinging to his. Long fingers tangled with hers as they worked the buttons on his trousers free.

Seconds later, his heavy weight was in her palm, and with inexperienced fingers, she ran her hand over him. The touch made him groan before his hand slid up her thigh to reach the heat of her center. He rubbed lightly against her sex, and she jerked. Her breaths hot and rapid, she thrust her hips forward.

“Oh, please. Now. I need to feel…” Her words trailed off into a low moan as he increased the pressure to the small nub of flesh between her legs.

There was no right or wrong, only this moment of human connection that promised to fulfill her in ways she’d yet to realize. His hand forced her to wrap her leg around his waist, and in the next breath, he filled her with a mind-numbing thrust that pushed her over the edge of an abyss.

Almost as if he knew what her reaction would be, his mouth swallowed her cry of intense pleasure. Hard and fast, he stroked her body with his. A pitched sensation grasped her insides until she felt her body tighten around him. Her spasm drew a dark growl from him as he increased the speed of his thrusts.

Suddenly a wave of fire engulfed her, then skimmed its way across her skin and downward to the apex of her thighs. White-hot heat raced through her blood until it tightened her insides and convulsed with an intensity unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

Her cry of ecstasy was silenced by a passionate kiss. Beneath her hand, his heartbeat pounded a fierce rhythm against her palm as he possessed her at a blistering pace. A second later, he buried himself deep inside her and throbbed against her with a ferocity that matched her own climax. Ever so slowly, the rasp of his harsh breaths and Phoebe’s frantic ones slowed to normal.

Reluctant to give up the power, warmth, and comfort of his touch, she clung to him. She wanted this moment to never end. She didn’t want to leave the tenderness of his embrace or give up the brief moment of contact that said she was alive inside. This stranger had pulled her deepest desires up from the depths of her soul until she’d been blind to everything except the sensations holding her prisoner.

Her eyes fluttered open to stare up into a pair of gray eyes smoky with the remnants of desire. Strong and rugged, his features spoke of a strength that was as much physical as it was emotional. It was impossible to tell if his hair was black or dark brown in the dim light, but it was his eyes that hypnotized her. It was the first time she’d consciously studied his features. She’d been so consumed by an overwhelming need to connect with another soul it wasn’t until now that she’d truly looked at him.

His mouth twisted in a slight smile, almost as if he could read her thoughts. With obvious reluctance, he retreated from her. The tip of his finger traced the curve of her bottom lip in a sensual invitation. It made her ache for him all over again. What would it be like to spend one night after another in this man’s bed? Phoebe drew in a sharp breath.

Dear God, what had she just done? Horror held her rigid as the full extent of her folly took shape in her mind. She’d lowered her personal standards to that of her husband. Not once during her marriage had she ever contemplated having a liaison with any man. The thought had been unthinkable. Not because she feared Alfred, but because she possessed little except her self-respect. Something she’d surrendered to a stranger in a few brief moments.

It didn’t matter that Alfred meant nothing to her, that he was cruel to her, or that he had a string of mistresses. She’d lowered her standards to that of her husband. Guilt and shame lashed through her in the form of a shudder. Avoiding the stranger’s gaze, she quickly stepped aside to shake out her skirts. With trembling fingers, she tried to restore her appearance, all too aware of the lock of hair brushing her shoulder that would be difficult to pin up.

“Here, let me,” he said in a deep, husky voice.

Phoebe stiffened as he turned her around and proceeded to repair her hairstyle and brush off the back of her gown. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she experienced gratitude for the fact her dress was a midnight blue. The color would hide any dirt left behind from her wild, rash behavior.

When he’d finished, the hands glided across her shoulder and down her arm while his mouth nibbled at the curve of her neck. It was a lover’s caress, and she struggled to fight the strong urge to lean back into him, but guilt held her in check. With a jerk, she pulled away from his touch and spun around to face him.

“I…I must go,” she breathed.

“First, tell me why.” It was a gentle command, but a command nonetheless.

“Why?” Phoebe pressed her hand against the base of her throat as if she didn’t understand his question. It was a pointless gesture. She knew precisely what he was asking. She shook her head with a sense of helplessness. “I…needed to feel…”

“Desirable.” He finished her statement, but it wasn’t the right word.

“No,” she whispered. “I needed to feel human. To feel alive.”