Page 68 of My Rogue, My Ruin
“So sweet,” he murmured, trailing his hand along her downy cheek. His thumb tugged her full lower lip, and her eyelids grew heavy. “Or are you just a woman in search of a prize and a title?”
She blinked, alert again. “I beg your par—”
He silenced her with his lips, claiming her open mouth with his.
Brynn’s entire body went slack, but not with desire. With indignation. He could see it in the flash of her eyes, and her sudden, controlled lack of response. It infuriated him, but he released her mouth. They stood in charged silence, her breaths coming in short, frantic bursts as she stared at him.
“I do not desire a title,” she said in a clipped tone. “And you would be the last thing I would consider a prize.”
Archer’s thumb grazed her smooth chin. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
His knuckles reached forward to skim the underside of her chin and the velvet column of her throat, his voice a murmur. “You could have fooled me.”
Oddly, Brynn made no move to extricate herself from his embrace, but instead continued to regard him with a measured, assessing glance, as though trying to separate his cruel words from his tender touch. It felt like she could see right through him, and her thoughtful perusal made Archer want to kiss her again.
Giving in to the desire, he bent his head slowly, allowing her the time to pull away if she so chose. However, other than a sharp intake of breath, Brynn did not move. She met the tentative pressure of his kiss, and within moments, he found himself being seduced by the sweet warmth of her mouth. With infinite care, he plied her with expert and confident nudges, tracing his tongue along the seam of her lips. When she gave in, it was with a sigh and a shy moan that traveled through his blood and instantly made him tight with desire.
Brynn was soft and responsive under his mouth and hands, and she tasted like the sun shining through rain. How easy it would be to give himself over to the lust coming to a head inside him. It would take little effort to block out the rest of the world and simply let their mutual attraction run its course. His feverish thirst to bury himself deep inside her until he found release was as appalling as it was arousing, so much so that his lips and tongue could hardly keep pace with his lewd fantasies. And yes, as she had said, they were indecent.
They involved the lady, the boundary of her skirts removed, every inch of her bared to him and spread out upon his bed like a feast. Brynn drove him senseless, moaning in his arms as if she, too, craved the release that only one thing could bring. But his bed was not here. All they had was a carpeted floor. And not nearly enough privacy.
Bracing one hand on the wall, his body pressed against hers, his other hand slid up her side. The feel of her was utterly drugging, and it had tossed his senses—and reason—to the wind. His palm skimmed up the fine wool dress, and without a moment’s hesitation, he cupped her breast boldly through the material. She leaned into his hand with a whimper as his tongue continued to tease hers in a torturous rhythm.
Archer’s mouth slanted on hers with relentless urgency as he succumbed to the need building deep in his core. She was not immune, either. Brynn trembled against him, her body coming alive in his embrace. Moaning against his lips, her hands slid around his neck, anchoring herself to him. With a muffled growl, Archer drew her closer, lost in a dizzying haze of passion, though a small, logical voice within him warned that he was going too far.
Just one more sweet taste, he thought,and I will stop.
Archer drew his mouth across her cheek to her ear, sucking the velvet lobe into his mouth. Her head fell back, and his lips found her throat, his hands roving in restless hunger over her body. He caressed the length of her spine before returning to graze her flat stomach. His hands drifted upward to tug on the square neckline of her dress, drawing down one sleeve from her shoulder and baring a breast to his greedy gaze.
She was even more perfect than he had imagined—her skin like cream, petal soft, and tipped by a rosy nipple. He lowered his head and closed his mouth over the silken point. She gasped against him, her fingers tangling in his hair. Archer fought for control, nearly as lost as she was. The voice inside his head warned that he was taking advantage of her innocence, but he could not slow down; could not help himself, especially not when Brynn was so pliant in his arms, bewitched by the same sensual spell ensnaring him.
His tongue swirled around the tip of her breast, and then he suckled it deep. Baring the second with an easy tug on the gown’s neckline, Archer licked and nudged his way across the fragrant valley to lavish the same attention on her other breast. He wanted to make her moan his name. Damn, she was perfect. Her breasts were everything he had fantasized and more—full, lissome, and delectable.
Drawing her to him, he sought her lips again, consuming her sweetness with the hunger of a deprived man. His tongue reached deep and withdrew in an explicit rhythm, and Archer crushed her hips to his. He ground the bulging evidence of his arousal against her.
Brynn’s eyes snapped wide at the intimate contact. Something flared in them, and she pushed wildly against his chest. Had he frightened her with his ardor? Archer inched his hips away, watching as her eyes dropped for one fleeting look before skittering away, a fiery blush suffusing her already heated cheeks. He grinned at her sudden shyness. If he had his way, there would be no barriers between them, least of all clothing.
But in a moment of delayed clarity, he knew he should stop before his sister returned from seeing Thomson out and Briannon’s dignity was irretrievably shattered. Reluctantly, he tugged her bodice back in place. He pressed a swift kiss to her mouth, his tongue sweeping in for one last sweet taste. With a groan, he pulled away from her as she opened bemused, stunned eyes the color of stormy jade.
“You are full of surprises, my lady,” he remarked, straightening his back and putting a sliver of space between their bodies. Brynn inhaled sharply, looking as if she’d just been doused with a bucket of icy water.
She did not respond. The only thing that broke the electric silence between them was the soft cadence of her breathing. She licked her lips, the action unconsciously seductive. Archer couldn’t help himself. He bent his head toward her, only to be stopped by the push of her hands against his chest. She turned her lips away, her voice a mortified whisper. “Please, you have to stop. Lady Eloise will be back at any moment.”
“We are engaged, are we not?” he said, inexplicably irritated at having started this in the library instead of in his rooms. He nudged her chin back toward him. “And Eloise has seen enough closed doors to know what they mean.”
She froze at his overtly suggestive words, her face flaming again. “You are not a gentleman,” she whispered in an accusatory tone.
“I never claimed to be.”
Her eyes flared, flashing fire for a moment before lowering. If looks could kill, he would be floating in the Serpentine. Before Archer could guess her intent, she ducked beneath his outstretched arm and walked briskly to the door. He frowned at her tight-lipped expression, confused by her swift change in demeanor.
“I am certain that His Grace has been behind more than enough closed doors,” she said in a mocking tone. “I, however, have not. And I beg you to find it within yourself not to dishonor either of us any further than I already have by coming here. I bid you good evening.”
Archer should have let her go and be done with it. But the glimmer of shocked hurt in her eyes made him hesitate. He had thought her a schemer, but now doubt leached through him. Despite his own accusations, he couldn’t believe she was “out to catch a duke.” If that were the case, she would have fallen at his father’s feet as every other title seeker had for the past decade, regardless of his advanced age. Butwhyhad she gone to such lengths, then? Unless she truly had come here and stormed into Thomson’s interrogation out of some selfless, if inane, desire to save him.
He scrubbed his hand over his cheek, a bedlam of emotions raging through him. He’d been more than angry that he had been caught in her ruse, but the intensity of what they had just shared had been as staggering to him as it had been to her. His blood still raced from the heat of it. And now, the truth was, he didn’t want her to leave. Not like this.
