Page 61 of A Virgin for the Rakish Marquess

Almost there.

Diana bit her lip to stop herself from cursing, almost losing control. And then she felt the barest brush of his fingers through the damp fabric between her thighs.

“Ah!” she whimpered.

“That’s it,” he praised in a sinful voice.

He didn’t withdraw his fingers. Instead, he pressed more firmly. And although it was nearly not enough, Diana was writhing under him. Again. And again.

James rested his forehead on hers, swearing under his breath, inhaling through his nose deeply.

“So wet for me, My Lady.”

Diana would have blushed if she was not burning already, if she cared at all how beyond the lines this was. Her mind, her ever-wondering mind, had shut down, and her body was claiming the pleasure it was owed.

His fingers pushed the silk aside. Time came to a standstill. This was it. She knew it. The point of no return. He would touch her where she hadn’t been touched.

She expected fear, panic, shame. But the only thing she felt was a shift in her body to accommodate his exploring fingers.

The first strokethereshattered her. An unintelligible sound left her lips, a sound she never knew she could produce, so low, guttural, and almost devastating.

James leaned up, one hand still keeping her arms pinned above her head. She knew why. If she were to touch him, he would throw all caution out of the window. She could see his handsome face tight with restraint, his lower lip permanently trapped under his teeth.

“More!” she begged shamelessly.

“Just like that. Let me hear you, My Lady,” he groaned.

His fingers mapped her core. He slid a finger into her heat, and she was wrecked. The sounds were wet and sinful.

She lost all control. She ached for his touch, her eyes hooded, her jaw slack, as she couldn’t believe what was happening to her. The pleasure was too sharp, too much. Her body moved as if it had a mind of its own, chasing each stroke, each wicked, teasing thrust of his fingers.

And then James withdrew his hand.

“God! No!” she sobbed.

“You are trembling, Diana.”

“James.” Diana fought to free herself.

“Tell me, My Lady,” he whispered in her ear. “What do you want?”

“James, please.” She arched her back, seeking some friction.

“Please what?”

“Give me what I need, please!” Diana all but screamed.

“And what do you need?”

“I…”

“Say it.”

“Touch me!”

James chuckled and moved lower, releasing her hands. Diana’s breath caught as realization dawned on her.

He can’t be?—

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