Page 97 of Courting Scandal With The Duke
He shook his head. ‘Now you.’
Oh, she had planned this so well. She rose up on her knees. ‘You need to undo the tapes at the back.’
He shifted so that he was behind her and did as she requested.
‘No chemise?’ he asked softly, running a finger down her naked spine between the edges of the gown.
She stood up and let the gown fall to the blanket. The sun on her skin was warm. The breeze a tantalising tickle.
‘No stays. No chemise. Just me.’
He groaned softly, running his hands up and down her sides as if learning her shape with his fingers.
All she wore now were her sandals.
And kneeling as he was, he was perfectly placed to taste… She parted her thighs and put her hands on his shoulders.
He glanced up and must have read the invitation in her expression.
He grasped her hips in his hands and nuzzled at her quim.
She widened her stance.
A stroke of his tongue made her gasp. She reached down and guided his hand to her breast.
The nipple beaded and hardened at his touch.
Pleasure at his touch on her breast, and the slide of his tongue rippled through her. His hand left her breast and he leaned back on his heels, using his thumbs to part her nether lips.
He blew out a soft breath. The exquisite sensation on her feminine core weakened her knees.
She gasped, clinging on to his broad shoulders for dear life, and yet she did not fear falling—his firm grip around her hips held her effortlessly.
He inhaled deeply, then buried his face in her curls. Then he did something that made her cry out at the unbearable pleasure, so exquisite, so painfully sweet, the tension inside her snapped and she fell into hot bliss, like falling into a furnace full of sparks.
Heat suffused her body. A lovely relaxing warmth.
In the darkness that filled her mind, she felt him catch her and gently lower her to the blankets cradled in his arms.
It was a feeling of being protected and being desired and being loved. Longing to trust him with more than her body was nigh overwhelming. But if he let her down…
Moisture leaked from the corners of her eyes. Why didhehave to make her feel these terrible, wonderful emotions?
He kissed her chin, the tip of her nose, her cheek. He must have tasted salt.
‘Barbara?’ he whispered. ‘Love? What is it?’
Love. She could never be his love.
But he could be her lover. One last time.
She blinked away hope for something impossible and drew a fingertip down the side of his face.
‘Come into me, sweet,’ she said. ‘I need you.’
He ripped his shirt off over his headand revealed his erection, the hard shaft with the engorged head, showing he had seen to her needs before his own.
She cupped his balls in her hand, heavy and hot, and rough with crisp hair.
