Page 78 of How Not to Marry a Duke

He buried his head in her breasts, teasing and laving first one nipple, then the other. Each tug of his lips was like a lick of flame causing the aching bud between her legs to throb. He lifted the edge of her shift, and his palm skimmed the silk stocking and fingered the red bow where the stocking ended and the soft flesh of her thigh began. Inch by inch, he peeled off one stocking, then the other. If he didn’t touch her where she ached, she would go mad.

Her eyelids fluttered open. “I feel like I’m going to combust.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

“I can help with that.”

His fingers found the aching bud between her thighs. The rough pad of his finger made her slick with need.

“Is that the spot?”

She whimpered. “Oh yes. Right there.”

The fervent need on his face rivaled her own passion as he rose above her. He slipped his hands beneath her, cupped her buttocks, and lowered his head between her legs. She squealed in surprise and rose on her elbows.

He glanced up at her, his eyes darkening with lust. “Relax. Trust me.”

He gently parted her tender folds, and his hot breath brushed her swollen, sensitive nerves. Then he kissed her there. His tongue licked, laved, and sucked, leaving her a quivering mass of nerves. Her thoughts fragmented from the erotic pleasure, and molten need exploded in her veins. She grew wild beneath him, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close. Blessedly, he knew just where to touch and where to stroke. She’d been cold and now she was fiery hot, and she surrendered completely to his masterful seduction. He dipped a finger inside her, sucked her aching bud, and the hot tide of passion raged. She quivered at his low growl of approval against her skin. Then she dug her feet into the mattress, arched into his mouth, and her world upended as passion radiated from the soft core of her body.

He cradled her in his strong arms and whispered words of praise against her throat.

For something that was wrong, it felt so right.

…

Warwick held Adeline in his arms as they lay on the coverlet of her rose canopied bed. His heart pounded in his chest, and he kissed the top of her silky hair. The lavender scent teased his senses. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Blue eyes looked up to meet his. “Do you regret it?”

“No.” He brushed her lips.

She sighed. “Good. Neither do I. I wouldn’t take back a single moment.”

“Heathen.”

Her smile was brilliant and breathtaking. A siren’s smile that could easily lure a man to her side. It was just his luck. He’d entered a pact with the most enticing, intriguing woman in all of England. Smart, determined, independent. Giving and sensual. Looking at her swollen lips and flushed cheeks, she was burgeoning with sexuality, and he was far from immune. For a man who prided himself on his control and had never fallen victim to a woman, he’d lost all restraint.

“How long have we been alone?” she asked.

He glanced at the mantel clock. “Almost twenty minutes.”

She sighed and stretched. His gaze was riveted on her sinuous limbs. “Only twenty minutes? I feel like I’ve reached the moon and the stars and fallen back to Earth.”

He was hard as rock in his trousers. Sexual need raged with protectiveness. He was aware of where they were—in her bed in her bedchamber. Christ, he hadn’t known what type of feminine trap he’d walked into. He truly hadn’t stood a chance.

His godmother may have concocted the encounter, but he wouldn’t put Adeline in danger of discovery by servants.

She wiggled her backside against him. He grit his teeth against a rush of desire.

“What about you?” Adeline turned in his arms and traced a finger down his waistcoat. “I know enough about what occurs between a man and a woman to know that you haven’t—”

“I’m fine.” His voice was hoarse. As a healer and midwife, he knew she knew.

But she didn’t really know.

She bit her lush lower lip. “Do you think your godmother heard?”