Page 86 of The Beast of Beswick
“God, Astrid, you feel so damn good.”
Wrapping her legs around his hips, he hoisted her up, cradling her back against the door with one free arm, as his body withdrew and slammed back into hers. He was not gentle, mindless with hunger and lust, and she relished every second of it. She loved how undone he was…how the muscles in his shoulders bunched with primal strength, how his lips parted in abandon, how his eyes shone with passion, burning her fears away.
In this moment, he washers. As utterly and irrevocably as she was his.
With a shout, his body worked into hers and went still. For a brief moment, indecision warred in those lovely eyes of his, and then he yanked himself from her, spilling his seed on the waxed and polished floor between them.
Panting, he collapsed against her.
…
For a long moment, Thane stood breathing hard, his forehead against his wife’s, one unsteady hand braced on the back of the study door. He had completely lost his reason and his mind. All because of a scrap of scarlet silk. Though he didn’t blame itallon the dress. In hindsight, the tension between the two of them had been building for the better part of a week.
The dress, or lack of it, had been the clincher.
The minute he’d seen her in it, his brain had fizzled. Everything that had seemed so important before, so crucial to his survival, had fallen away. Nothing mattered. Not his decision to keep his distance, his forced indifference, or his desperate need for self-preservation. Every single thought in his head distilled down to one vital, fundamental thing—she washis.
Hanging on to his unraveling self-control by a thread, dinner had been agony, and when she’d announced her intention to go out,in that fucking dress, Thane had seen red. Literally. Short of throwing her over his shoulder like a troglodyte, he was lucky they’d managed to make it to the privacy of his study,though everyone within range had likely gotten an earful of what had happened behind the solid oak door. Including—Christ—Mabel.
He felt Astrid’s eyes on him, their crystalline depths sated. “Beswick, are youblushing?”
“What? No, of course not.”
Her smile was a siren’s. “Your cheeks are flushed.”
“I have a demanding lover.”
Now it was her turn to blush. Thane smiled and kissed her swollen lips gently, noticing the reddened scrapes on her chin and neck where he’d abraded her with the bristle of his own jaw. He caressed the area with the pad of one finger and frowned.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She shook her head and blushed again. “At least no more than I hurt you.” She stroked at parallel red lines on his neck. “You’ve scratches just here.”
“Scratches?” he asked with a smirk.
Astrid arched a brow. “You took me against a door, Beswick. Surely you did not think I could control my passions while yours were on such territorial display.”
“Keep speaking like that, little minx, and I shall be forced to put said door to use once more.”
He stepped backward, and Astrid nearly fell forward without the weight of his body anchoring hers in place. The silk of her dress was hopelessly crushed, but Thane didn’t see her wearing that particular gown anywhere else. Not if he had anything to say about it.
Astrid frowned adorably, releasing the handfuls of her skirts back into place while he buttoned his trousers. “Honestly, why is it acceptable for a man to be passionate, and when a woman shows any sign of lustful urges, suddenly she is Eve incarnate, subverting the whole garden, ergo, the entire world.”
He waved an arm to the nearby chaise. “You can subvert me any time. It’s not as if the servants haven’t already guessed that their mistress shamelessly seduced their master.”
Her blush reignited. “Oh, you are incorrigible. They guessed no such thing.”
“I will bet you a hundred quid that Fletcher and Culbert are on the other side of this door, pretending to polish a candlestick or some such,” he said with a straight face.
“They’reyourservants, so of course they have the most dreadful habits. I would be foolish to take such a bet.”
Thane grinned and walked over to the mantel, where he poured two glasses of cognac. He offered one to her, which she took and sat on the sofa, crimson silk pooling over her long, shapely legs. Astonishingly, he felt himself stir again. The effect she had on him was incredible, and though he was hopelessly attracted to her, Thane knew it wasn’t just physical. It went so much deeper. No wonder he’d been so afraid after the interlude at the opera. Some part of him knew that he hadn’t a chance in hell of resisting her.
“Thane, we need to talk,” she said quietly.
He took a sip of his drink and swallowed with a nod. Fear settled in his gut, a dark reminder of what he stood to lose. “Did you know how I would react when you came to dinner?” he asked. “When you wore that gown?”
“I hoped to get your attention,” she said.
