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With a growl he suddenly yanked her upward, his cock leaving her, and she slid her hand around his shaft, pressing him hard along her throbbing folds. A groan shook his chest, the sound of it tapping into something deep and visceral in her gut, forcing her orgasm to contract hard just as he came.
Saints.
How in the hell had he done that?
Why?
Even with the viscount, she’d scraped together crumbs of pleasure only after he’d spent himself. She’d spent her whole adult life making sure men were pleasured first.
But this—this scared her. That Evan could make her come like that—extract from her every ounce of control she had—she couldn’t allow that.
Not again.
Control was the only thing that kept her sane.
And she wasn’t about to lose control to this man, no matter how vicious he made her body roil in pleasure.
{ Chapter 9 }
The tickle of Juliet’s heated breath brushed across his neck, the warmth of her body long against him.
Hell.He hadn’t meant for it to come to this, to take her in a bloody carriage of all things. But the draw of this woman was brutal. Her body. Her words. Her mind. A creature unlike any he’d ever known.
He damn well liked her, and he hadn’t even considered when he’d hired her the possibility that he might enjoy her company. She was an actress hired to do a job. That was all.
Except she was quickly becoming more.
It didn’t help that every time he looked at her his mind would wander to this very thing. His cock buried deep within her. His nose lost in the thick of her citrus-scented hair. He’d talked—more than he ever had—this pastweek just to keep her eyes centered on him. Set a smile on her face if he could. Almost every waking moment with her and he still wanted more.
Ridiculous. He was near to acting like a besotted young whelp.
The line between what they actually were to each other and what he wanted from her had blurred. It didn’t help that over the last week he’d begun to think of her as his.
Instinct had him protecting her as if she truly was his future wife. And when he’d seen that fop that had cornered her outside the carriage, he’d had a hard time not smashing the cull’s head in.
Disturbing, as he always had a tight rein on his reactions. A tight rein on his power. A tight rein on what he would or would not let enter his life—a woman.
All those reins had snapped when he’d seen that dandy grab Juliet. Set his hands on her. Set fear into her face. Made her pull a damned blade to protect herself.
His eyes closed, trying to dissolve the image of it from his mind.
“You’re good at this.” The murmur of her soft voice caressed his skin.
Evan chuckled as he turned his face to her. “Did you expect me to be bad?”
She pulled slightly away from him, her right hand slipping down along his left arm. Her fingers wrapped around his hand and she pulled it between them, holding it up. “Your hands are so big. How is it that they are not clumsy?”
His fingers stretched wide, wrapping into a fist, and then spread wide again. “I maybe know a tick more about women than you were giving me credit for?”
She grinned as a glow invaded her dark blue eyes, the raging storm usually in her irises now a sea quelled to gentle waves. A smile that was so different than the usual one she concocted on her face. This was a real smile, and the difference was remarkable, golden drops of the sun lighting her up from within. “I will strive to avoid assuming anything about you in the future.”
Leaning back slightly, she looked down between them and her fingertips went to a long scar that ran along his left ribcage. “You are battle worn.” Her fingers drifted across his bare chest, stopping at the many thin ridges of white puckered skin. “So many scars.”
His shoulders lifted. “Just buffoonery of youth.”
Her eyebrows lifted and she met his look. “These are buffoonery? I would hate to see what someone trying to actually injure you would leave behind.”
“There was no one to tell us to be careful growing up. So we oft times took things too far.”
