Page 60 of Tender Blackguard

“I need more.”

He hadn’t intended to say the words circling relentlessly through his lust-clouded mind. His voice was rough. As ragged as his soul felt when she wet her bottom lip with her tongue before she replied in a sultry whisper, “I need you.”

That voice in the back of his head—the one that constantly reminded him of his sire’s legacy and how fiercely he intended to renounce it, the one that wouldn’t allow him to forget his mother’s impassioned accusations or the years she’d spent in undeserved shame—tried to remind him how wrong this was. But it was in vain.

He’d already fallen.

And when her hands tugged at his coat, shoving it off his shoulders until it fell to the floor, he was lost beyond recovery. By the time she started on his waistcoat, he had the buttons of her dress opened to her sternum. The sight of her bare collarbone and the white lace edge of her chemise was enough to cause a harsh tightening of his throat.

As soon as his waistcoat fell, she grasped fistfuls of his shirt, helping to lift it up over his head. With a soft sound, her fingertips traced the pink scar along his side and he tensed. The knife wound was well on the mend, but the skin was sensitive, and he had no desire to be distracted from his current purpose. He was naked to the waist while her gown still covered her from head to toe. In a burst of frustration, he grasped the open edges of her bodice and pulled them from her body. She gasped as buttons scattered about their feet, but with a quick shimmy, she urged the gown down past her hips, along with her petticoat.

Impatient hunger roared through his blood as she bent forward to remove her shoes and stockings. A moment later, she stood in nothing but her thin cotton chemise, and Alastair lost the ability to speak.

Her figure was slim with modest curves. There was obvious strength in her limbs and a capable resilience in her posture that had likely been formed over years of physical hardship and adversity. She was a woman whose sensuality was multiplied by the sum of its parts. Every detail of who she was combined in a way that was nearly incapacitating.

He’d never seen anything so fascinating. So bloody mouthwatering.

But when she lifted her hands to release the pins from her hair, he realized he’d barely even begun to explore the allure this woman possessed. Sweat beaded on his brow and the muscles of his abdomen tightened. His breath grew shallow and a hollow ache formed in his chest. As her pale hair fell down around her shoulders, he acknowledged the fierce desire raging through him. Threatening to consume him. Threatening to consume them both.

If he couldn’t resist it, he at least must control it.

But while he remained locked in place, every muscle in his body tensed and hard, she met his gaze and lifted her chin. It was a brief and subtle gesture—a quick glimpse of the bold nature she typically tried to conceal.

Holding his stare, she gracefully slipped the strap of her chemise off one shoulder. When the soft material slid down to catch over the gentle mound of her breast, the slight caress of cotton caused her nipple to pucker beautifully.

Though he ached to reach for her, he kept his hands strictly at his sides.

Seemingly undaunted by his fierce stillness, she slipped the other strap from her shoulder, and the undergarment slid sinuously down her body to the floor. And every inch of her female form was exposed to his lustful gaze.

She was perfect. Proud and strong and shameless.

The sound that rose up from his chest was more beast than man. More hunger than desire.

The stunning beauty of her—the bold courage and fierce self-possession—broke the last of his minimal restraint. One long stride brought his body in contact with hers. The soft silk of her skin against his felt like heaven. The crush of her breasts, the rapid beat of her heart, the sound of her breath catching in her throat. Her passion and fire were nearly as strong as his own. But nothing in the world could come close to the depth of need claiming every inch of him as he took her mouth with his.

Her moan was soft and deep. Her body arched against him, as though seeking more. He plunged his tongue past her teeth, gliding hot and slick along hers as he tasted the deepest treasures of her mouth. He wanted to claim the very essence of her and take it inside himself. Make it his. Make her his.

The thought of it nearly made him mad. And when he felt the smooth caress of her hands on his skin, he clenched his teeth hard against the swift urge to thrust himself inside her.

Still kissing her as though he’d draw her very soul from her lips, he lifted her hands to the wall above her head. He held her wrists secure in one hand as he eased his hips back enough to reach down between them. Her belly was smooth and trembled beneath the gentle caress of his fingertips. With a catch in her breath, she broke from the kiss. And when he began to explore the soft curls shielding her mound, she squeezed her eyes tight and closed her teeth over her bottom lip.

It was gorgeous.

The anticipation in her features. The trembling and yearning. The sweet torment. The absolute beauty and trust.

“You claim to have no fear of darkness,” he whispered thickly. “What about sin?”

“I was raised by the rookery, my lord. I’m no stranger to sin.”

Alastair slipped his fingers along her seam, dewy with desire. Blood rushed hot and fierce through his veins. Making him light-headed and hard as stone.

“And pleasure?” he asked, his voice heavy with lust.

Her eyes were dark and stormy as they met his. She extended her tongue to run the tip along her bottom lip before she responded. “I’ve known precious little of it in my life.”

Alastair clenched his jaw against the rush of wild emotion through his chest. He caressed her private flesh again—a soft, gentle stroke—but this time, he curled his middle finger so the flat of his fingertip eased along her inner folds.

Her gasp slid swiftly into a quiet moan as his head fell back against the wall and her lashes fluttered over her gaze.

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