Page 32 of How to Tempt an Earl

“Oh my.”

He was treading on forbidden ground. He needed her to tutor him, but at the moment, his stronger need was to claim her mouth. The time spent in his bedchamber sitting like a statue as she tormented him with her touch had made him stiff in his breeches and his chest ache until it felt as if it would burst.

Her head pressed back on the padded squabs, and her eyes slipped to his lips.

It was an irresistible invitation.

Lowering his head, his lips brushed hers, once…twice. Unlike the first time, he was infinitely gentle. She sighed and parted her lips for him. He slipped his tongue in and slowly stroked hers. She came alive and kissed him back, clutching his shoulders. He pulled her closer, groaning into the kiss and slanting his mouth over hers to deepen it. Her lips were warm and sweet, and her soft mewls of pleasure drove him onward. Her corseted breasts brushed his chest and left him burning with a desire to possess.

His hands explored the hollows of her back, rose to graze the sides of her breasts, until his finger brushed her nipple. She gasped and squirmed beneath him. The peak hardened beneath the silk, and he grew harder in his trousers as he imagined suckling her there. He fully cupped her breast, and she cried out in pleasure. If he didn’t touch her flesh, he’d go mad.

He reached for the tiny buttons on the back of her gown just as he became aware of the slowing of the carriage.

If she realized they had arrived in the back of her father’s home, she showed no response. Rather, she continued to kiss him, her tongue tangling with his. He was worldly experienced, yet she was driving him to distraction.

With great effort, he pulled back. “We’re here,” he said, his voice hoarse with need.

Her eyes flew open. “Oh,” she said, then scooted across the bench and smoothed her hair. When she met his gaze, her cheeks were flushed and her lips glistened from their kissing.

“Enjoy your ball, Grace. I shall expect you promptly the night after tomorrow.”

…

“I like her,” Brooks said.

Ian reached for the crystal decanter and refilled his tumbler with expensive whisky. After he’d safely seen Grace home, he’d gone straight to his library. Brooks had followed him and poured his own drink.

“I said I like her,” Brooks repeated, a bit more loudly this time.

So did Ian. A lot.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Ian ground out.

“You like her, too.” Brooks grinned, revealing a chipped front tooth, a hazard of guarding the front door of the Raven Club. Brooks had been with Ian from the beginning, and it wasn’t beyond him to provoke Ian when he thought provocation was deserved.

“She’s a comely female. What red-blooded male wouldn’t desire her?” Ian responded.

“I’m not speaking solely of her appearance. She has a fiery nature.”

Fiery. She’d come alive in his arms. Their shared heated kiss would haunt him when he lay in bed tonight.

Brooks raised his glass. “She’s not like the women at the Raven Club. She won’t avidly pursue you, my friend.”

The comparison of the masked ladies that roamed his club to Grace was like comparing night to day. Grace may have first approached him at his club, but no, she was nothing like them. She was infinitely more interesting.

“I’m not seeking a liaison or tryst with the chit, remember?” Ian ground out.

Brooks raised his glass in mock salute. “Therein lies the problem.”

Ian glowered at him. “You’re speaking in riddles. If you have something to say, then spit it out, man.”

“You want her, but you cannot have her.”

Ian knew Brooks was goading him, but he had the strong urge to smash his friend in the mouth. He set his empty glass on a table instead. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re tense.”

“So?”