Page 71 of A Wicked Game

“Don’t forget to say stop, Harriet.”

He kissed her. Not softly, not sweetly. He kissed her the way he’d dreamed of doing for years: open-mouthed and hungry, claiming her in a way that was utterly, unashamedly carnal. He kissed her with all the pent-up longing inhis soul, making up for all the nights he’d lain awake in his bunk, or in his prison cell, fantasizing about doing exactly this. Without restraint. As if this was the last kiss he’d ever receive.

His tongue delved deep, drawing her into a wicked dance of advance and retreat, shaping his lips to hers. Coaxing her to feel it too, the rising heat, the madness.

Breathing ceased to matter. He couldn’t get enough of the brandy-laced taste of her, the warm perfume of her skin seeping into his pores. He brought his other hand up and drew her toward him, and the soft hum of pleasure she made against his mouth was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

Her hands slid to his shoulders, stroking up his neck to tangle in his hair, and it took his dazed brain a moment to realize that she must have released the front of her dress. The fabric was crushed between them, held up only by his chest.

The thought made him go weak at the knees.

He pulled back just a fraction, keeping his lips on hers, and felt the bodice slip to her waist. He smoothed his hand down the bare skin of her back—so soft—and brought it around her ribs. Her breast fit his palm so perfectly he couldn’t stop the groan that escaped him.

She gasped his name. He rolled her nipple between his finger and thumb, teasing her there as he devoured her with his mouth, dizzy with lust. A crashing wave of emotions enveloped him: urgency and tenderness, frustration and desire.

With an effort he dragged his lips from hers and rubbed his cheek across hers to growl in her ear, “Want me to stop, Harry?”

They were both panting. Her fingers tightened in thehair at the back of his head, and she pressed her own lips to the side of his neck, beneath his jaw. His pulse was thundering beneath the skin, his body as tight as a drum.

“Not yet.”

She pressed her nose into his throat, inhaling his skin, and he nearly exploded when he felt her take a tiny bite, followed by a kiss, right over the scar she’d given him.

Bloody woman. She’d be the death of him.

His blood was pounding in his veins, his body hardened to the point of pain. With a growl of pure frustration, he caught her bottom and dragged her to him with a force that made them both stagger. His backside hit the sideboard, rattling the glassware on the top.

Chest to chest, thigh to thigh. He pulled her closer, pressing his throbbing erection against her stomach so there was no way she could mistake the effect she was having on him.

“Want me to stop?” he repeated hoarsely.

She laughed—laughed!—against his skin. “No.”

He pressed his mouth into her shoulder, giving her a gentle bite, but the bloody woman only tilted her head back to grant him better access. If he’d thought to scare her away with the violence of his response, he’d badly miscalculated.

This was madness. Utter madness.

He didn’t care.

Eyes closed, he trailed a line of feverish kisses down her throat, her breast. Her hands gripped his hair as he captured her nipple in his mouth and she arched her back, offering herself wordlessly.

Pleasure roared in his ears. He feasted on her, long, lascivious pulls and licks, with a hunger that bordered on insanity. He felt unhinged. Utterly wild.

Every pulse of his body pounded in longing, a thick, heavymine, mine, mine. Hewanted. Craved more than simply entry into her body. He craved full possession.

He dragged his mouth from her and pressed his forehead to her breastbone, struggling for air. He was feverish, burning up. It took three tries to make his throat work.

“Tell me to stop, Harry.”

Was that a demand or a plea? His voice was pure gravel, dragged from his chest.

In answer she pulled his head up and fastened her mouth to his, kissing him with unprincipled abandon. It was inexpert, it was untutored, and it was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced in his life.

He grasped her hips, hard, and gave her a little shake.

“Tell me to stop!” he growled.

She shook her head.

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