Page 41 of The Devil in Her Bed
If something were to happen to her, the remaining Red Rogues would do anything to avenge her.
Not that she couldn’t take care of herself.
She’d a dram in her pocket and weapons on her person, prepared for just such an occasion.
Drake less lifted and more crowded her into his well-appointed carriage. With a motion equally graceful and fluid, he settled himself into the plush champagne velvet seat and pulled her atop him, affixing his mouth to hers before she could object.
Not that she would have.
Francesca was used to eager men; it was why she generally took her own carriage to such a seduction. This time, however, she’d been afraid to let Drake out of her sight, in case he slipped through her fingers.
In case she lost her nerve.
And if she was honest, a part of her had hoped for this exact moment. This man. This kiss. This hunger. The headiness of it threatened to overwhelm her. The danger somehow intensified her desire.
Though she was atop him, Drake claimed and maintained control of their passion. He kept her busy with his lips as he split her thighs over his lap. Her skirts created a lake of crimson that threatened to drown them both.
He breathed in the slight gasp she emitted as their bodies molded. His big hands cupped her hips, pulling her bottom against his thighs. His sex unrepentantly found hers through the layers of their clothing, and hepressed his hips forward even as he guided a roll of her pelvis, grinding against her in a shockingly intimate parody of what he thought they were about to do.
She should be afraid. Of his need, of hers. Of his size and her recklessness. Of the unrelenting strength rippling in his shoulders as she clutched them for purchase.
Of the way his eyes were always shifting and suspicious, as though he knew the world should trust neither of them.
He gave her no time for fear, distracting her as he nibbled and sampled, then devoured her with a surge of his tongue before retreating to drag his passion-slicked lips across hers.
His body was impossibly hard and tense and his mouth demanding. His hands, though, were languid and patient as they smoothed up her back, managing to both hold her aloft and caress her at once.
Overwhelmed, she broke the seal of their lips to take in a full breath. At just that moment, they passed a streetlamp, and it slashed a golden light over his features.
Francesca’s heart stalled. She’d caught him in an unguarded, ephemeral instant. And beneath the look of sweltering, savage lust, she read something she’d not expected.
Hope.
Longing, perhaps. Not the bright, lovely wish one sees on the faces of children. But the stark, careful yearning of someone who is starving and desperate. Who looks for kindness without really expecting to receive it.
He hadn’t meant for her to see the expression, of that she was certain, but she couldn’t pretend it hadn’t been there.
Because it nearly melted her heart.
Or broke it.
“Christ, woman,” he groaned, his voice guttural and his accent less tangible in the dark. “You’ll ruin me.”
Only if she had to.
Onlyif he was a man worthy of ruining.
She brushed the shadow of his cheek with searching fingertips for a strange and tender moment, wondering why that look seemed so familiar. Why it tugged at places inside of her turned to ash ages ago.
He surged beneath her touch, capturing her mouth in a wild, wet kiss and pouring unrestrained lust over her bones like molten fire.
He didn’t want her softness. Didn’t need to be tender or vulnerable. This man’s desires were hard and hot and punishing.
His body rolled beneath her, hips grinding up andupas his wide shoulders fell against the back of the carriage, sprawling her more absolutely atop him.
Gasping at the instant pleasure against her core, Francesca’s hips made jerking little motions against the hands that locked them in place. Never had she felt this. Never had she been so exposed with all her clothing on. So intimate with a man.
Awareness of every part of herself distracted her so fully from any logical thought. The muscles of her abdomen clenched and worked as she rocked intimately against the barrel of his erection. Her hands kneaded his shoulders like he was a kitten being stroked. Herthighs held her weight, trembling but strong as they bracketed his strong legs.
