Page 73 of The Smuggler’s Escape

Richard’s mouth twitched. He trailed a finger under the bodice of the silk nightdress, and licked it. “I like how you quiver and melt when I touch you.”

Why couldn’t she resist him? It wasn’t fair! She swung at him, but he dodged the blow. He lifted her easily and tossed her onto the bed. She rolled away from him to make for the door, but he grabbed her foot and hauled her back. She kicked at him with her free foot, and he twisted away, laughing. “I like it when you fight me.”

She stilled.

“And I like it when you don’t.”

She slumped. It was hopeless. She couldn’t resist him. Worse, she didn’t even want to.

He began to unbutton his breeches. “It’s time to take off our clothes.”

Anguish crashed over Noelle. The end, the inevitable end was so near. But she mustn’t let him see her distress, so she merely untied her wrapper, slipped it down her arms, and laid it over his coat on the back of the chair.

Then she sat on the edge of the bed. She couldn’t bring herself to shuck the flimsy nightdress. Why, she wondered again, did Richard have any reason to be nervous?

Richard’s breeches fell to the floor. His manhood, which she had glimpsed only briefly two years ago, sprang free. “Ridiculous, isn’t it? I don’t think we’re meant to walk with this thing waving about.”

No, not ridiculous. It was as beautiful as the rest of him. An odd wish to kiss it possessed her mind, and she wondered if perhaps licking wine from it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

He pushed her down on the bed, shoving the silk up past her knees, almost to her waist. His hot hands grasped her thighs, spreading them, and his manhood probed gently.

Noelle tensed, waiting.

“Not yet,” Richard said. He gripped her derriere, pushed her farther onto the bed, and crawled up after her.

Ah, mon Dieu. Noelle closed her eyes and prayed. Let this be over with soon.

Richard’s lips settled on hers.

Let this never be over.

~ ~ ~

At least she still likes kissing me, Richard thought. The plan to seduce Noelle back into his arms, to insinuate himself into her heart again, had gone so far awry as to be unrecognizable. His intention, if he had been unable to gauge her degree of arousal, her readiness to succumb completely to pleasure, had been to ask her what pleased her, then to play with her until he knew for sure.

But she wasn’t talking to him. She’d hardly said a word since they’d arrived. He would have to do it all by feel.

He had no objection to feeling Noelle.

His Noelle, who was all passion and fire.

He wanted her far too badly. How could he think clearly enough to calculate every move?

He didn’t want to work so hard at having fun, but as he kissed her and she quivered beneath him, he knew he had no choice. He would fight this battle, and he would win.

He restrained his eagerness—nay, desperation—to enter her, to claim her again, and set himself to exploring every inch of her with hands and mouth.

~ ~ ~

Noelle wound her hands into Richard’s hair and kissed him back. Through his kiss, she felt his smile, his laughter, his abandonment to pleasure. Even if it killed her in the end, she would enjoy it, too.

When he broke their kiss, his eyes gleamed with devilry. “I intend to consume you,” he said. “Every delectable inch. And you will delight in every second of it.”

It was so kind, so loving of him to tend to her pleasure. A mistress would surely treasure such a man. But she didn’t want to be pleased, for the more she enjoyed him, the more it hurt. Why couldn’t he just get it over with?

“Feeling shy? I’ll undress you and taste you bit by bit, so you can get used to it.” He kissed his way up one thigh, caressed with his thumbs that sensitive juncture where hip joined thigh, and blew softly on her mound of hair.

Ah, mon Dieu.