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Drat. Pippa wanted to win that wager. Staring at him, she suddenly chortled.
He arched a brow. “What is it?”
“I figured out how to beat you.”
That arrogant brow lifted once more. “Impossible, I say.”
At her smiling silence, he took the lure.
“How do you plan to?” he drawled. “Indulge my curiosity.”
“Why, I plan tocheat.”
“You dare say that so boldly?” he remarked beneath his breath.
“Of course,” she answered candidly.
His golden eyes snapped with outrage, and he keenly assessed the board for several seconds. “It is impossible for you to cheat and win.”
“Another wager?” she demanded cheekily. “Let me show you, my lord.”
And before the marquess could say any more, Pippa rose in her chair, leaned forward, and fitted her mouth perfectly to his. “This strategy of cheating,” she whispered against his lips. “is called ‘Luring the tiger down from the mountain.’”
CHAPTERELEVEN
Pippa might have overplayed her hand. That was the thought that dazedly flitted through her thoughts as a growl of arousal purred against her lips before the marquess dragged her onto his lap, scattering the chess pieces on the floor to ravish her mouth.
Oh, God. Honeyed heat washed over her senses, and she clasped his shoulders as her back pressed into the hard edge of the table. Distantly the clatter of plates reached her ear, but she was too caught up in the dizzying pleasure of being so thoroughly consumed by William.
Hot, urgent desire stirred inside Pippa, scaring her with its visceral intensity. His tongue claimed hers with possessive hunger, and she sighed helplessly into his kiss, the wicked sensation of wanting to crawl inside his skin claiming her. Pippa had never envisioned this would happen with her provocative teasing. She did not even truly understand what had pushed her to be so daring at that moment when she had previously resolved to keep a respectable distance between them. William’s hands coasted down her shoulders, over her ribcage and down to the front of her breeches.
Shocked arousal stuttered inside her chest when he tugged at the string tying her boy’s breeches closed. Without releasing her mouth from his drugging kisses, he eased her slightly off his thigh and wrenched her breeches and drawers down in one move, baring her buttocks to the chilled air in the cabin.
“William,” Pippa cried out, and he caught it in another kiss, barely giving her time to breathe or even think. His fingers delved between her thighs, and she opened her legs as far as the trousers would allow in instinctive want.
His finger slid through her curls which were already alarmingly wet. William tore his mouth from hers, and Pippa stared at him, aware of how flushed and wanton she must appear perched in his lap, her trousers and drawers pulled down to her thighs and his hand and finger cupping her sex.
William stared at her, his expression savagely carnal, his intent to ravish her clearly in his golden eyes. At this moment, Pippa knew she stared at the rogue that mothers warned their daughters about in hushed whispers, even as they hoped he would make one of them his marchioness.
His fingers moved, sliding through her folds ruthlessly rubbing against her clitoris. Pippa almost jackknifed from his lap as the twisting sensation bloomed from right where he touched, up to her belly and breasts. Pressure built in sharp, wicked spikes. Her entire body ached with the want for more, and she distantly realized she trembled in the cage of his arms.
“Look down,” he said, his tone rough with sensuality.
Blushing, she complied, becoming unbearably aroused at the stark contrast between their hardness and softness. The utter licentiousness of watching as he demanded her to watch. His hand looked so large between her legs. Now that she looked at his actions, he gently opened her wider so that she could see his fingers clearly on her sex.
Oh, God.
He had no care for her sensibilities, and Pippa was undecided if she wanted that tender care of her innocence or this raw, provocative pleasure that was almost intimidating. He pushed a finger inside her clenching sex, and a sob of need pulsed from her as his fingers slowly yet deeply stroked her to a fevered pitch.
“I want to be inside you so damn badly,” he said raggedly. “I want to splay you open and taste, Pippa.”
A wild, wanton sensation broke over her body without warning, an aching fullness low in her belly. The feel of him inside her body was strange but also necessary. Pippa tightened her fingers against his shoulders, afraid to be unmoored when she felt as if William consumed her. “Then open me and taste, William.” The words settled between them, heavy and fraught.
“Fucking hell.”
His curse echoed inside her body. But she was not repelled, far from it.
She touched his lips with trembling fingers. “I want to feel you tasting me. I am not afraid…I’ve seen the images in an erotic book before.”
