Page 58 of This Marquess of Mine

Chapter Eighteen

They shouldn’t be doing this. The thought snaked through Griffin’s mind, but he ignored it and deepened the kiss instead, gripping Olivia’s delectable hips as he swept his tongue into her mouth.

He’d hated watching her dance with other men tonight, hated even more hearing her with Paxton, knowing the fool had kissed her, touched her, and she had welcomed it. Even now he could still feel the knot of jealousy deep in his gut. It should be his mouth on hers, his hands on her body. He wanted to taste her everywhere, he wanted to own her, use her, surrender to her.

God, he must be losing his mind.

Olivia whimpered, her lips meeting his in desperate strokes, the eager slide of her tongue stiffening his cock until the ache was almost unbearable.

He widened his stance and slid his hands down to her arse, urging her closer until hips met hips and her breasts were flattened against his chest. There. He could feel her everywhere now, soft and warm and so bloody good he never wanted to let go.

Her arms looped around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair as she whispered his name.

Satisfaction flowed through him, a warm balm loosening the knot of jealousy in his belly. She’d allowed Paxton to kiss her, but she hadn’t asked for more. She hadn’t wanted more.

She wanted more from him, though, didn’t she?

“Come,” he whispered, easing her toward the bench. “Come with me.”

Her eyes met his, nearly black and drenched in desire, and Griffin’s breath caught in his throat. Olivia aroused was without a doubt the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

He pulled her down onto the bench until they were both sitting, with her straddling his lap. Their mouths met again, in hungry, wet kisses that seemed to heat the very air around them. Her sent invaded, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and lemonade and lust.

His hands found her hips and he tugged, a guttural groan rumbling in his throat as the heat of her settled directly, deliciously onto his straining cock. He kissed her harder, his lips ravenous as he filled his hands with her, squeezing her hips, shaping her waist, her back, her thighs.

Her breasts, plump and creamy, tantalized above the neckline of her gown, and he eased his mouth from hers so he could see her better.

“Christ, you’re lovely,” he said, brushing the pads of his thumbs along the swell of her breasts. “Your body...” He swallowed. “I hunger for it. I hunger for you.”

Heart thudding in his chest, he held her gaze as he hooked his thumbs beneath the edge of her bodice and tugged. Her breasts beckoned, her nipples pebbling beneath the thin cotton chemise, and he bent his head to take one in his mouth.

She hissed in a breath, her fingers threading in his hair as she arched into him, unintentionally bearing down on the hard ridge of his erection. He thrust against her warmth, drawing her nipple deeper into his mouth, his hands gripping her arse.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, yes...” She began to move her hips, grinding her wet heat against his cock in slow, rhythmic circles, her buttocks clenching beneath his palms with every thrust.

Griffin eased his head back to watch her.

“Yes, petal,” he urged, his gaze locked on her face, his hands gripping her hips. “Ride me. Ride my cock. Let me feel your pleasure.”

Her head fell back, and her lips parted, and he pressed his lips to her throat, tasting her, nipping her skin with his teeth. A gasp caught on a groan and then she stiffened, her hands clutching his shoulders as tremors wracked her body.

Her eyelids fluttered open a moment later and she lowered her head, meeting his gaze.

“Oh, my,” she whispered, her throat working as she swallowed. “That was...unexpected.”

He smiled and brushed his mouth over her heated cheek. “Will you admit now that my kiss is your best?”

She pressed her lips together, considering her answer. “Would you believe me if I said it wasn’t?”

“Not after that, no.”

She huffed out a laugh. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” Her gaze dipped to his throat, and he could almost hear her thoughts, the self-recrimination, the doubt. She was only seconds away from regretting what she’d done.

“Don’t,” he said softly. “Don’t be embarrassed.” He reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his body still thrumming, his erection still throbbing against her core. He ignored it.

“I can’t help it,” she said. “I seem to lose all sense of decorum with you. I…forget myself.”

Griffin trailed his thumb along her jaw and over her lips, cresting the tiny cleft in her chin. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her. “You make me forget myself, too,” he said softly. “When I take myself in hand, it is you I think of.”