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“Mina,” he groaned. “I’ve been dying to kiss you again.”
“Yes,” she said simply. “Give me more.”
She wanted him never to stop, and at the same time she wanted to end this because it was too much, it felt too good, and her desire almost frightened her.
She wasn’t scared of anything. She was bold, brave Mina. Newly wild and newly free.
She knew what he looked like under these respectable clothes, the powerful chest, narrow hips, and strong thighs.
She’d watched him pleasure himself. She’d wanted him to touch her, to awaken her senses to passionate awareness.
The time for new sensations, new discoveries had arrived.
“Touch me,” she whispered.
“Where?” he asked, his breathing labored. “Tell me where.”
“Where you touched me before.”
“Your breasts?” he asked.
“Yes.” She arched her back, thrusting her bosom into prominence.
“Yes, please,” he growled.
“Yes.” She felt wicked. Bad. Up against a tree, begging for him to touch her. Panting. “Please.”
He pulled her bodice and chemise down, exposing her breasts to the night air and to his eyes.
“So lovely.” He cupped her with both of his hands, his thumbs grazing her nipples, and she nearly fainted from the pleasure of it.
He lowered his head and took her nipples into his mouth, teasing them to aching awareness with his tongue.
Every other reason for being in London coalesced into this one purpose: prolong this sensation.
Find an antidote to the restlessness coursing through her body.
His thigh was lodged between her legs. Tentatively, she rubbed against him, welcoming the friction. Tender and swollen. Her lips... the peaks of her breasts... the sensitive place between her thighs.
Her heart.
Waiting made everything sweeter. Everything worth having was worth waiting for. But now was not the time for discretion or denial.
“Don’t stop kissing me. Don’t stop,” she commanded, fully aware that she was begging and not at all concerned about it. He made her wanton and she was going to dive in and not worry about whether she would ever resurface.
He caught her wrists with one of his large hands and moved them over her head, trapping her against the tree trunk. She thrust her hips forward to feel him, to connect with him.
“Mina.” He kissed her neck, murmuring in her ear. “You smell like roses. You’re so sweet. I want to eat you up.” He nibbled at her earlobe and she shivered.
He pushed her hair away from her neck and bit her, softly, gently.
She bent her neck to the side inviting his lips and his teeth to claim her.
It felt heavenly. She moaned. Low and throaty. “Devour me.”
Soft nips with his teeth along her neck and his body, long and hard, covering her, pressing her back against the tree.
Night air against her cheeks. Breeze playing over her nipples.
