A parching tightness claimed her throat. Men who had no bed often seduced their way into a woman’s, as a way to have a roof over their heads, a fire to warm them, and a willing companion to entertain.
He was a highwayman—a man who thought himself above the king’s laws. Why should it surprise her that he might have spent the rest of the night with another woman? He knew she had been with Wesley before him and he did not care.
Oh God—had he only slept with her because he’d hoped to spend the night in her bed?
Brushing her lips, his fingers unleashed fireworks in her chest. “Don’t think, Grace. I can see it in your eyes. You are thinking too much.” He pressed a small, quick kiss to the tip of her nose.
“Where did you sleep last night?”
“I’ve a room at the local inn.”
“Alone?” The word spilled out before she could stop it and she jerked back from his caress, ashamed she had shown how vulnerable she was. But she could not stop thinking.
“Alone.”
“Why?” She could think of so many reasons. It was too late to find a woman. None took his fancy. All were in other men’s beds.
His broad chest lifted on a deep breath, and he gripped the doorjamb tightly. Was he frustrated by her prying question, frustrated to waste the time on a lie? Did women bother to question him—or was that the point at which the pursuit lost its allure? That was apparently the way it worked for men, or so she had seen. At dances, she had seen the quick, desperate look that mounted in a man’s eyes when a woman began to show her possessiveness.
He leaned over her, so tall that she had to tip her head right back to watch his eyes for a glimpse of his true emotions. “I didn’t want anyone else, so I lay awake all night and thought about you.”
An enigmatic answer that told her nothing. His eyes were far too carefully shuttered to reveal a thing. He’d bluffed the Navy, for heaven’s sake, and surely more than a few magistrates. How vain she’d been to think she could see through his words. “What did you think about me?”
“A lot of very naughty thoughts. Would you like to hear them?”
“No!”
“I think you would.” His dimple winked, and she saw his chest move as he visibly relaxed. “Why don’t you undress me while I tell you?”
It was as though an entirely different man had taken possession of this beautiful, broad body. Even his voice had changed—it had been a gruff growl when he’d admitted to thinking about her. Now it was a deep, sensual purr, as though he’d relaxed into the role of unrepentant rake.
She made no move to obey and strip him. He took a step forward, and his sheer size forced her to take one back. The door had only just clicked shut behind him when he sank to his knees in front of her.
Frank, yet playful, his dancing blue eyes teased. “I thought about this—about lifting your skirts in a public place, a place I should never dare take such a liberty.”
“This is not a public place. Not exactly.”
“In June, her ladyship used to hold an al fresco luncheon, an annual tradition. Imagine we are there. Imagine that I found you there, and I turned your chair away from the table, much to the shock of all the gentle guests. Without a word I drop to my knees on the soft grass and I lift your skirts to your hips, just like this—”
Winking, he grasped her hems and pushed up the weight of her sturdy wool skirts and the white petticoats beneath. Cool air brushed her thighs, a sharp and exciting contrast to the heat of her body.
“The whole world is going to know how much I desire you, how damned tempting you are.”
“I wouldn’t—” She was caught up in imagining, until she thought of all the guests looking as condescending and judgmental and angry as Prudence. “Of course you could do that. You are a highwayman—and a man—so you can get away with anything.”
“And with me as your champion so could you, Grace.” He bent and touched his mouth to her drawers, letting his tongue touch the fabric and his hot breath slide through. He opened the lace-trimmed slit and buried his face there, and she almost jumped. His tongue slicked all over her quim, bathing her with pleasure, tasting her most intimate flavors.
“I would sit you up on the table like the sweet, sumptuous dessert you are, and eat you this way. And all I would care about is tasting you and pleasing you. And all you would want is to come on my face.”
He flicked her clitoris with his tongue and sensation streaked through her. Her legs shook, her muscles straining, and she drove her fingers into his hard, wide shoulders. Wet, hot, so shockingly intimate, his tongue circled, stroking the side; then he twirled its tip against the very top of her clitoris and she screamed, “Mr. Sharpe!”
“Devlin,” he murmured against her sticky nether lips. Then his lips played on the swollen, throbbing nub, his teeth grazed it, and she pumped against his mouth and sobbed.
He stopped again and she suddenly found her fists punching his shoulders. “Oh don’t…don’t.”
Feasting on her cunny had mussed his hair, and the dark honey-colored locks tumbled over his eyes. Eyes that gleamed with delight at her desperate plea. “I want to learn what delights you, what thrills you, what you fear to try…I want to learn how to make you come.”
Learn? He spoke as though it took a long time. As though there were lessons. She would be going away today. This was her last time with him…her last chance to look into his mesmerizing eyes and share sighs and moans and laughter.
There was nothing to learn about her. She would be gone.
With a low chuckle, he teased her nether lips with his tongue and gently touched his finger to her juicy entrance. She was so wet his fingers filled her. He thrust them in and out and she moaned over and over. Whimpered when he moved his fingers away.
His big hands closed on her derriere and pulled her to his face. He rocked her and she found her rhythm, stroking her clit against his hot, raspy tongue over and over. Stars burst behind her lids and she could barely suck in breath for moaning.
She was grinding on him, but he worked his mouth against her and she gave her body to the tension coiling inside—
He drew back and she surged forward. He wanted to leave her there, on the brink, but she couldn’t—
Even as his mouth drew back, her orgasm burst inside. She couldn’t stop it. Her body seemed to melt into a puddle of molten cream, and she flowed all over his face, crying his name. Sobbing with thrilling delight. Moaning and moaning until her lungs were empty, her throat was dry, and she was certain that if she spread her arms, she’d fly.
She collapsed but he was there, lowering her into his embrace. Her salty, ripe, erotic taste teased her lips as he kissed her. He kissed her hard and passionately, and she was a boneless, silken, languorous puddle held in his arms.
“Grace, love—” Husky, raw, his voice washed over her.
“I thought,” Grace whispered. “I thought I wanted memories that would keep me happy when I went to bed alone—”
Devlin felt Grace change in his arms from a melting, well-pleasured woman to a stiff and awkward lady in an instant. Brushing back unruly strands of her pure gold hair with a jerky motion of her pretty hand, she gazed up at him.
Rigid, thick, swollen to the limits of its skin, his cock was pulsing, and desire and lust and need nagged in his head, harder to ignore than cannon fire. Her head had dipped and he licked his lips, savoring the taste of her wet, hot, fragrant quim. He doubted his selfish half brother had done that to her.
He