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“I was thinking…” Hunter reached out to uncurl her fingers from about the top of the towel. “That this needs to be disposed of.” He held her gaze as he dropped the item to the floor between them. “This way, I will have easy access to your delicious arse for spanking.”
The slowness of his words and the clashing of their gazes held Evie transfixed long enough for Hunter to bend down and place an arm firmly behind her thighs before tossing her over his shoulder.
She began to struggle as he strode across the room, but not soon enough to dislodge his arm or prevent his other hand from landing in warning against the bare flesh of her bottom.
She seemed to freeze for a few seconds, no doubt in shock. Whatever the reason, it was long enough for Hunter to sit on the side of the bed and throw her across his thighs. He used one arm to hold her down and began to smack her in earnest with the other hand. He believed her screams of protest might possibly be heard as far away as London.
They were certainly loud enough for the door to open seconds later. “Lincoln—”
“Out.” He looked up long enough to fiercely instruct an obviously concerned Lady Margaret. “And do not enter this room again until you are given permission to do so.”
* * *
Evie’s struggles and screeches of indignation ceased only long enough for her to note Lady Margaret’s presence before that lady, after a regretful glance, hastily closed the door of the bedchamber behind her as she left.
Evie’s head dropped in defeat. Nor could she be cross with the elderly lady for her inability to help her. Not when she knew Lady Margaret was as beholden to the Duke of Lincoln for providing her with a home as she was.
Which had absolutely no bearing on Evie’s determination to continue protesting this indignity.
She turned to glare over her shoulder at Lincoln. “You are nothing more than a barbaric brute!” She deliberately called him the name Lady Margaret had warned her not to.
He gave what looked to be an unconcerned smile. As if she had complimented rather than insulted him.
Her eyes narrowed. “I hate you!”
“Do you?” He stilled, holding her gaze as his hand no longer landed painfully against her bared flesh, but instead caressed lightly along and then between her thighs.
“What are you doing?” Evie hated the revealing high note of concern in her tone as much as she did constantly having to ask this man that same question.
Perhaps she would not need to do so if he were not constantly behaving out of character for a man she had believed to be cold and indifferent. To her as much as to his fellow men, but most especially to her.
She gasped, unable to look away from him even as her arms wrapped instinctively about Lincoln’s calves the moment she felt his probing fingersbetweenher thighs, where she knew she was once again wet and swollen.
“This does not feel as if you hate me,” he murmured approvingly as his digits stroked along and in that wetness, until they reached the swollen nubbin between her folds and the source of the throbbing ache. “No, this does not feel like hate at all.” He continued to hold her mesmerized gaze as he lifted his glistening fingers to his lips before slowly and deliberately licking along their length. “This looks, and tastes, like arousal. Your arousal.”
Evie had never known… Never thought… “What does arousal taste like?” Lincoln’s expression was one of such pleasure, Evie could contain her curiosity no longer.
His green eyes were dark and heavy with lust. “Yours is sweet and spicy. A delicious combination of both those things. Here.” His fingers once again dipped between her thighs, then held them up in front of her. “Lick them,” he instructed gruffly.
Her tongue slid cautiously between her lips before lapping up a small amount of her own juices. She groaned low in her throat as the first taste of the nectar exploded on her tongue.
“Good?” Lincoln prompted huskily.
Evie stilled, mortified at the realization she had engaged in such an intimate act, let alone found such pleasure in doing so. She began to struggle again.
“No, damn it.” Lincoln’s arm across her back once again held her in place as his fingers returned to caressing between her thighs. “I have not had nearly enough of the taste of you.”
“You…” Evie’s plea for him to stop froze in her throat.
Pleasure coursed through her as his long and lithe fingers began to stroke and press against that nubbin hidden amongst her folds.
Such pleasure and a thrill of sensation Evie had never known existed, let alone experienced.
She groaned as those fingers continued to caress, hard and then soft, against her nubbin. She could feel something building inside her, an ache, an ecstasy she sensed was just beyond her reach. “Help me,” she groaned. “Please, Hunter, help me!”
* * *
It was the first time Hunter remembered Evie addressing him by his given name, and it filled him with added warmth to hear her do so now. “Please what, Evie?” he prompted softly.
