Page 76 of Make Mine a Marquess

She stepped inside and he shut the door. A lamp was lit, casting the room half in light and half in shadows. It was a masculine room, with a large mahogany bed and chest of drawers. Documents and ledgers crowded an escritoire. He must have been working.

She swallowed, knowing this was what she wanted, what she desired. She locked the door. The sound of the latch slipping into the lock was final. She turned and leaned against the wood, its surface cool beneath her thin night clothes.

She boldly met his glittering dark gaze. “One night. I want one night. No regrets.”

He watched her, his muscular body a foot from hers. “You are a gift, Phoebe. I will have none.”

Pushing away from the door, she stepped close and looked up at him. She slowly untied the bow of her wrap and let it flutter to the floor. She stood before him in a cotton nightgown that covered her from neck to ankle. He remained still and silent, and she sensed the unleashed power radiating from him.

She reached for the hem of her nightgown and lifted it over her head and tossed it aside. His nostrils flared as she stood naked beneath his heated gaze.

“God’s blood, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

A second later, she was in his arms. His lips captured hers in a searing kiss as he lifted her off her feet and pressed her against him. Her breasts crushed against his chest and her nipples pebbled. His hands explored the soft lines of her back, her waist, her hips. Then he cupped her naked buttocks and pressed her even closer against him. The hardness of his arousal low against her belly made her weak with desire.

Her fingers dug into the corded muscles of his neck, then climbed to sink into his thick hair. Her nails scratched his scalp, and he moaned against her lips.

“I want to see you, too.” She breathed.

He set her on her feet. “Who am I to refuse?”

She reached for his shirt, tugging it from the waist of his trousers. He aided her by lifting his arms and pulling it over his head. She bit her lower lip to keep from gasping as he tossed the shirt aside.

He was magnificently built with broad shoulders and muscled arms. A sprinkling of hair covered his chest, and his abdomen was corrugated muscle. A line of hair led into the waistband of his trousers. Ever since she’d seen him in the lake, she’d dreamed of him. She swallowed, wanting to see more.

She reached for the placket of his trousers.

His hand covered hers, his gaze meeting hers. “Are you sure?”

Her gaze flicked up to him. “About seeing you?”

“About this. About us.”

She had never been more certain. “Yes. Tonight is what I want.”

“I’ve longed for you to say this.” His hands dropped to his sides. She flipped open one button. Then a second. Her fingers brushed the crimson head of his penis. Muscles in his abdomen bunched, and he hissed.

Then his entire manhood was in her hand. Hot and heavy and large. She swallowed. Philip had not been as big. He’d looked like a boy compared to…compared to Landon. Her fingers wrapped around his length, and he groaned. Knowing she could affect such a dominant, virile man with a touch made her moist between her legs. Her body felt as if it were half ice and half flame.

“Phoebe,” he said, his voice hoarse, “you’re making me crazed.”

“Good. Then we are even.”

He kicked off his trousers, then swept her into his arms and carried her to his bed. He lay her gently in the center, the soft coverlet beneath her. Then he was on her, his hard body atop hers.

He spread her golden hair across the pillows. “I’ve wanted to touch your lovely hair from the moment I saw you.”

He lowered his head to kiss her, then his lips seared a path to the shell of her ear causing shivers of delight. He continued down her body. “Here, too,” he said, his hot breath brushing her breasts. “I’ve wanted to kiss and lick my fill.”

Her nipples hardened in anticipation, and she stifled a moan. Impatient, she pulled him to her. At last, she had what she wanted when he dipped his head and his tongue swirled around a pebbled nipple. Her emotions whirled and skidded. Pleasure radiated outward to her limbs, and to the already moist center between her thighs. She arched her back, seeking more, as he worshipped first one breast, then the other. She panted between parted lips and dug her nails into his scalp to pull him closer.

“Jesus,” he said. “You’re like fire.”

“Please, I—”

He picked up a lock of her hair, caressed it gently, then brushed his lips against hers. “I want to go slow. To savor you.”

She tossed her head on the pillow. “I don’t want slow. I want you.”