“For yer personal use?”
He’d meant it as teasing, but even as he uttered the words, he knew they’d fallen flat.
But her lips curled upward, wickedly. He noticed because he couldn’t look away.
“I was thinking I could use it as a sort of study guide. Did you know that your sister recently acquired a manuscript calledA Harlot’s Guide to the Forbidden and Delightful Arts? It would have been written around the time those embroideries were being done—perhaps they are related somehow. I have been considering trying to convince LadyAthena to allow me a limited print run of such a scandalous work, but…”
Bonnie took a deep breath, and her tongue darted across her lower lip. “But I am not prepared for that yet. So yes, thiswouldbe for personal use. Do you think you could do the fellatio one for me?”
That was it.
That was his breaking point.
Her words—clever innuendo that they were—and the image of Bonnie lying in her bed, studying the sketchhe’dmade of the woman with her lips around a man’s cock…?
Well, Lyon was already damned, and this sent him well over the edge.
With a groan, he used his hold on her hands to pull her closer, and his lips claimed hers.
As soon as they did, he was overcome by a multitude of emotions. Joy, because she tasted of everythinggoodin the world…but also fear and shame and guilt. He shouldn’t have touched her, not without her approval, but he couldn’t stop himself now, not when she whimpered slightly against his lips and opened her own.
He froze, wondering how he was going to gain the strength to pull away, but three things happened at once.
One: Her tongue darted between her lips to caress his, which told him she was very much interested in this kiss, if a bit unsure how to go about it.
Her first kiss, remember.
Two: Her arms came up to wrap around his neck, holding him in place, and pressing her glorious breasts against him. Beneath his kilt, his cock swelled against her belly, and he groaned with need.
Three: He knew with absolute certainty that Bonnie Oliphant would be trouble. Now that he’d tasted her, now that he’d experienced life with her, now that he’d pictured her sitting in his library, laughing at something she’d read or debating theory with him…how could he possibly afford to let her go?
How could he possibly affordnotto?
When his palm clamped around her breast, she moaned and arched against him, allowing his lips to trail down her jawline. She was panting as hard as he was, and when she gyrated her hips against his hardness, he knew she was ready for his lessons.
Lyon’s mouth never left hers as his fingers went to work on her bodice. When it loosened, he tugged it down, baring her shoulders, then the swell of her breasts.
Bonnie was gasping now, her fingers tangled in his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp as if she couldn’t decide whether to pull him closer or push him away. But there was no resistance in her body—only heat, only need.
“I want to kiss ye everywhere,” he murmured against her jaw, his voice rough with restraint.
Her answer was a broken gasp. “Yes.”
He didn’t hesitate.
His mouth trailed down her throat, tasting the sweetness of her skin—she’d been bathing with his soap these lastfew nights—and the flutter of her pulse beneath his tongue. When he reached the delicate lace edging her corset, he reached inside and lifted free one breast, then the other. They were full, heavy in his palms, the nipples already tight with arousal. He groaned at the sight of them, at the way they darkened further when he rolled the peaks between his thumb and forefinger.
Bonnie jerked beneath his touch, a sharp inhale hissing between her teeth. He didn’t give her time to adjust—just lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the stiff bud before drawing it between his lips with a slow, deliberate suck.
“Lyon—!”
Her back arched, pressing her breast deeper into his mouth, and he rewarded her with a flick of his tongue, then the graze of his teeth. She whimpered, her fingers clenching in his hair, her hips shifting restlessly against him. He imagined he could feel the damp heat of her through the layers of her skirts, could smell the musk of her arousal, and it drove him mad.
His free hand slid down her body, palm flattening over the junction of her thighs. Even through the fabric, he could feel how swollen she was, how wet. He pressed his fingers against her, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp, her thighs trembling.
“Bonnie—” His voice was a growl, his control fraying. “Can I touch?—?”
“Oh, God,please, Lyon!”
