Page 23 of The Tantalizing of a Scandalous Rake

“What...”

He silenced her with a firm kiss and bunched her shift in both hands. He inched the fabric up, cool air whispering over her thighs. Only when he dropped to his knees did she realize his intention. No man had ever touched her there and most certainly not like that. But she’d run an inn long enough to understand the act, to know the intentions behind it.

With one hand, he inched open her thighs, and with the other, he gripped her rear. She watched him, powerless to do anything else. It seemed a selfish thing, to accept such pleasures and give nothing in return but she could not bring herself to deny him. She wanted to be selfish, to have Adam pleasure her in such a manner.

She felt his breath hot on her thighs then her most sensitive flesh. He ran his tongue along her in one bold movement that had her crying out. Then he repeated the movement, and she twined her fingers into his hair. His warm tongue danced across her flesh, swirling and licking, paying special attention to that one sensitive spot. The sensations were a far cry from her own rushed ministrations.

Her thighs trembled and she clenched her eyes shut, her attention focused entirely on the pleasure he wrought from her. She rocked into his mouth as he inched her closer and closer to release. He murmured something against her skin—words of encouragement perhaps—that proved to be the undoing of her.

Her peak broke over her, tremoring through her like an out-of-control carriage. She leaned back and gasped for air whilst he drew each little flutter of pleasure from her with a few more considered swirls of his tongue. Finally, the sensations ebbed and she lifted her head to glance down at his smug expression. He rose slowly and pressed her head against his chest.

“I should...” she managed to utter.

“You should do nothing, Rosie,” he said firmly. “Seeing you reach your peak is about the most pleasurable thing I have ever done.”

Exhausted, she let herself sag against him while he rubbed his hands up and down her back. She could not be certain of what she expected of Adam but he had proved himself to be farther and farther from the rake she first suspected him to be.

Which made this dalliance all the more dangerous.

Chapter Nine

If his brothers could see him now...

Well, they’d likely think Adam had caught a fever from his wound and was addled. He was far from lazy but few people of the nobility rose with the dawn.

He rubbed a hand over his face, smothered a yawn and ambled downstairs. His reasons for rising so early were twofold. One, he’d seen how busy Rosie was in the mornings, preparing for the day alone, and two...

Two was the biggest reason, he guessed. He couldn’t sleep anyway for thinking of yesterday. He did not think his previous lovers would claim him to be selfish but never before had he gained such pleasure from the simple act of giving.

Pausing in the doorway to the taproom, he smirked to himself. He supposed there had been nothing simple about what occurred between them. Tasting her, giving her pleasure had left him coiled like an Adder waiting to strike. And he knew where he wanted to sink his teeth.

If only this blasted stab wound would heal quicker. If only he’d been able to take her to bed and not let her go. At least then he’d know how she was this morning. Whether she regretted last night, he had yet to find out.

Raised voices prevented him from moving into the room. He waited a few moments and peered around the corner to spy two men at the rear door by the stables. He could not make out their expressions but their words were aggravated enough. Rosie remained in front of them, hands to her hips while she held her ground.

“There’s not a thing wrong with it!” one of the men protested.

“I am getting complaints.” Rosie’s posture offered a tension that radiated toward Adam, making him want to curl a fist. “You are watering down the ale.”

“That’s a strong accusation, lady,” the other man said.

“I do not make it lightly.”

The first man stepped closer to Rosie, his height forcing her to crane her neck. “If you don’t take these barrels, there will be trouble.”

Adam spied his menacing expression and shook his head to himself. He’d had enough. Striding forward, he came to Rosie’s side. He didn’t look to see if she was aggravated or relieved by his interruption but he did not much care. Let her be annoyed at him. He wasn’t going to tolerate anyone speaking to her so.

“Your ale needs work,” Adam said firmly, stepping in between Rosie and the taller man. A recessed chin speckled with pale whiskers gave him a rattish appearance. Adam reckoned the man to be at least twenty years his senior but hard living might have aged him quicker. His companion, though shorter, was wide through the shoulders and scars upon his face hinted at a rough past. Or perhaps present. Adam only hoped he did not have to fight either of them. He’d win if he had to, but it would likely come at the cost of his recovery.

“We have a contract,” the tall man said tightly. “And we have the barrels.” He gestured to the cart in the courtyard, stacked high with wooden barrels. “The lady owes us for them.”

Adam glanced around him and shook his head. “She is not paying for that swill.”

“We have been supplying this inn for nearly twenty years,” the man bit out, his cheeks reddening, revealing broken blood vessels that indicated the man to be a drinker.

“No,” Rosie said. “Your uncle did, Gerald, and he created fine ale that my patrons enjoyed. I shall say it again, you are watering down your ale.”

“That is slander.” Gerald’s lips tightened.

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