Page 105 of Beyond Scandal and Desire
The duke glanced around. “Thirty years ago, this was the outskirts of London. It fell into disrepair, and you are reshaping it with your magnificent buildings. It will be interesting to see where we are thirty years from now.”
Curled in a chair by the window in her room in the Trewlove Hotel, the low flame in the lamp barely illuminating the room, Aslyn heard the click of a key going into the lock, the snick of the latch, no opening of the door as the staff kept the hinges well oiled.
However, she saw it opening, the dim light from the hallway outlining the silhouette of a tall man with broad shoulders. He stood there unmoving, as though testing the waters, as though wondering if she would turn him away, wouldn’t welcome this inappropriate clandestine meeting. But then when it came to Mick Trewlove, there was very little between them that was appropriate. Although that would soon be changing when he took her to wife.
He stepped into the room, closed the door behind him, and his soft footfalls barely echoed as he came nearer, stopping when he reached the bed, leaning against the poster, crossing his arms over that magnificent chest. “I see you’re wearing the cameo.”
On a ribbon about her neck. It was the only thing she was wearing. “I rather like knowing you were thinking of me when you purchased it.”
“I’m always thinking of you.”
“I was hoping you would come.”
“Mum is staying in my suites tonight, and as I have only the one bedchamber furnished with a bed”—he lifted a shoulder—“I decided to go in search of another.”
They’d had dinner earlier with the duke, the duchess and his mother. It hadn’t been awkward, but neither had everyone been completely at ease. She had no doubt that would change over time. “How fortunate I am then that you happened upon this chamber.”
“Is the bed available?”
She spread her mouth into what she hoped was a saucy smile. “I’ll always make room for you.”
“Ah, Christ.” Stepping forward, he reached out and drew her into his arms, blanketing her mouth with his, the kiss deep, full of hunger and need. She scraped her fingers along his face up into his hair, holding him firm and near, as he plundered and his broad hands stroked and caressed her bare back and buttocks. Up and down, over and around. Sensations building, heat consuming.
She’d missed this, yearned for it, longed for it. The way his passion engulfed her, swept her up into a rising tide of titillation.
“I thought I would go mad with the wanting of you,” he said, dragging his sultry mouth along her throat.
“I miss the beard.”
“I’ll grow it back.”
“Because I desire it?”
“Yes. I’ll give you anything—everything—you desire.”
“I desire you take off your clothes.”
He broke away from her. She would have helped him, but he was too quick, a frenzy of action that found his clothes in a heap on the floor in no time and her back in his arms. She wondered if it would always be like this, the wanting, the desire, the passion. She rather suspected it would be for her, and when his head came up after he licked across her collarbone, and she gazed into his smoldering blue eyes, she suspected it would be for him, as well.
He lifted her up and tossed her onto the bed, capturing her screech with his mouth, as he followed her down. “We’re going to do this in every room in the damned hotel,” he growled.
“How many rooms are there?”
“Not nearly enough.”
She laughed, then went abruptly silent as he closed his lips around her nipple, suckled gently, then hard. She cried out, not with pain but with pleasure, wrapping her legs around his hips, holding him close, desperate for him to be even nearer, to be one with her, for them to be one.
“Now.” The word was a breathy sigh. “Take me now.”
“Not yet. I’m not done worshipping you.” He slid down. His tongue circled her navel, leaving dew in its wake, creating dew farther down between her thighs.
Then his mouth was on that honeyed spot, feasting as though it was the most exquisite buffet he’d ever been served and he’d never have enough of it, would never have his fill. And she knew then that it would always be like this between them. The hunger would never be sated, not completely. It would always rise up and demand their attention, insist that they at least strive to tame it, but it would remain wild and feral, frightening in its intensity, satisfying in its power.
It was powerful as it rocked her to her core, had her screaming out his name until her lungs were empty of breath. His deep smug chuckle echoed around them, and it pleased her that he took such pride in wringing pleasure from her, that her joy in the act was as important to him as his own.
Moving up, he slid into her in one long, smooth stroke. “So hot, so wet, so tight.”
“So hard, so thick, so filling.”
