Page 43 of How to Tempt an Earl

“I already said it took place in a garden.”

“No,” Ian said, suddenly furious. “Where were you kissed?”

She raised a finger to trace her full bottom lip. “On the mouth.”

“Jesus.”

“Your kisses made me feel strange and shivery and his—”

There was only so much a man could take. He pulled her into his arms and took her mouth. She tasted like fine wine, heady and tantalizing. She kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his, stealing his breath, his reason. She sighed into the kiss, clutched his shirt, and urged him to deepen it. His tightly leashed control snapped at the intoxicating essence of the woman in his arms. His tongue plundered her mouth, and when she eagerly met each thrust with her own, he growled in approval and tightened his hold. Her breasts brushed his chest and he wanted to lift her skirts, plunge inside her, and take her on the vestibule floor. He was determined to erase the thought of any other man’s kiss that might be in her mind. He struggled with his need to mark her, possess her, make her his.

He picked her up and pressed her against the wall by the door. She didn’t protest but squirmed against him to get closer. His hand found the folds in her cloak and slipped inside to cup a breast. Soft, plump, it filled his palm perfectly. His fingers grazed over the crest, and he felt her nipple harden beneath the silk.

She moaned then, a sexy little sound that fueled his lust even more. “Oh, yes. Definitely different.” She sighed against his lips.

He raised his head. “Better?” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Much.”

Their breath mingled for a heartbeat before he lowered his head to recapture her lips. She met him halfway.

Her whimpers were driving him wild. Never before had he ached so badly to possess a woman. He lowered his head, nipped her ear, and trailed kisses down her throat. She tilted her head to the side to give him better access. He kept going, kissing the swell of her breasts above her tight bodice. He worked his fingers inside the fabric, slowly delving until the tip of his finger grazed a nipple. It hardened beneath his touch, and she gasped.

“Oh, yes,” she moaned.

He grew harder in his trousers.

Just then, the door opened all the way and a woman’s voice pierced his haze of desire.

“Ian!”

Ian’s head snapped up to see his mother and another woman standing in the doorway. Good God. If he hadn’t been so consumed with lust by the enticing woman in his arms he would have heard their approach. He pushed Grace behind him and hoped she didn’t stumble to the floor. He knew she’d come to her senses when she gasped and clutched a fistful of his coat from behind.

“Mother. What are you doing here?”

“Our carriage broke down on our way home from Lady Jersey’s ball. Lady Taddlesworth is accompanying me. I thought it good luck we were stranded in front of your home, Ian. But perhaps I caught you at an inappropriate time.”

Lady Taddlesworth’s face was grim as she took in the scene, and Ian experienced a disquieting alarm.

“Is that Miss Ashton behind you? What are you doing here, young lady, in a bachelor’s home in the middle of the night?” the older woman asked.

Grace stepped from behind Ian. Her cloak was undone, her hair disheveled, and her lips moist and swollen from his kisses.

Ian’s mother looked at him pointedly. “A word alone, Ian. Now.”

…

She was going to be sick.

“The carriage will take you home, Grace.”

Seated stiffly on the bench, Grace’s stomach roiled with anxiety. Ian stood outside the carriage, a frown marring his features as he looked at her. His mother and Lady Taddlesworth were waiting in the drawing room for Ian to return.

Of all the rotten luck. One minute she was in Ian’s arms, blissfully aware of the sensual feelings he was arousing in her, and the next it felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head.

“Perhaps I should be present while you speak with—”

“No. I’ll take care of this.”