Bitten by Desire. Marguerite Kaye

She allowed him his way because she must. She took pleasure because he left her no option. The lack of choice excited her. Steel and velvet. Lethally opulent.

      His hands cupped her breasts, his cool touch rousing her nipples from pale pink buds to hard blushing peaks. His mouth—soft but insistent—sucked and tugged, first one then the other, kindling a flame from an ember buried deep in her, eliciting a spark between his hands and his mouth and her nipples and her sex, which was beginning to tighten and throb. Her restlessness became a determined seeking, entreating for more of this thing building and climbing inside her like a tower made of heat.

      Vaelen looked up, gazing deep into her eyes, his own lambent with desire. He kissed her, a drugging kiss so deep it made her toes curl, as if he was dragging something up from the depths of her being. Then he kissed her again, thoroughly, covering her body with his, the cloth and fastenings of his coat rough on her sensitised skin. She could feel his erection pressing into her through his breeches, but he made no move to disrobe. He kissed her again, retracing the path down her throat, her breasts, lifting up her gown to reveal the soft curve of her belly, pulling her over to the edge of the bed as he kissed, kneeling on the floor between her legs, his breath whispering over her curls to the soft skin of her inner thighs.