Page 61 of To Resist a Scandalous Rogue
He propelled himself to his feet, and his arms wound around her waist, clutching her to him until her body melded to his. She mewled in protest when his lips left hers, but when they set a scorching path across her jaw and down her neck she positively purred in encouragement.
For a split second, her wanton response sent a jolt of shame shooting through her, and her cheeks flamed in embarrassment. But before she could rein in her response, Finlay nipped at the skin between her neck and shoulder and growled, “Lud, I’ve replayed that sound in my head every night for the last year.” He pressed a kiss to her collarbone, his tongue coming out to flick across the sensitive skin. “Countless times I’ve taken myself in hand to the memory of that sound.”
Liquid heat pooled between her legs, and Charlotte was certain she would have melted into a puddle if not for Finlay’s arms secured tightly about her. Swallowing to ease her dry throat, she asked on a rasp, “What sound?”
With a nudge of his chin, she dropped her head to the side. Finlay ran his nose up her neck, pausing only to nip at her earlobe. A low moan slipped from her lips, and he chuckled, his laugh teasing the fine hairs at the base of her neck. “That sound.”
She pushed back from him, meeting his teasing gaze with a faux grimace. But she couldn’t keep up her pretense of disgruntlement for long because Finlay smiled a lopsided grin that made her heart lurch out of rhythm. She attempted a return smile of her own as she grabbed his hand and led him to her bed.
She didn’t meet his gaze, afraid she’d lose her nerve as she slowly peeled his coat off his broad shoulders, unwound his crisp cravat, or untied the drawstring on his shirt before helping him lift it over his head. But when she went to grasp the placket of his breeches, he blocked her hand.
“Charlotte, love, why will you not look at me?”
“I am looking at you,” she murmured, running her fingertips down his chest, twirling them in the soft blond hair that grew there.
He caught her chin and lifted it until their gazes collided. “We don’t have to do this. I didn’t come here for this. I just want to be near you. I don’t expect anything from you aside from your company, if you’re willing to share it.”
“I know.” She licked her lips and forced herself to hold his gaze. “And that’s why I want you. So much.”
Without another word, he brought his mouth down on hers.
And how was it, Charlotte pondered in the recesses of her mind, that every kiss with him felt like the first time. Why did it continue to feel like sparks ignited where their lips touched? Why, even now, did her brain grow numb to every other sensation but the feel, the taste, and the smell of Finlay Swinton?
As their tongues danced together, Finlay reached behind her and quickly, and deftly, undid the buttons that lined the back of her dress. Before she knew it, her gown pooled at her feet. Next her stays and then her chemise joined it, until all she wore were her stockings and garters. When Finlay made no move to remove them, Charlotte reached down to slip them off when he halted her.
“Leave them,” he said, his voice a gruff rumble as he took a step back and allowed his hot gaze to rake over her. “There’s something unbearably intoxicating about you in nothing but your stockings.”
A flush swept up from her feet to the roots of her hair, but Charlotte did nothing to shield herself from his stare. He made her feel beautiful and desirable, and she’d carry the memory of his appreciative look with her long after she wished him goodbye. Opening her arms, she beckoned him close, and he walked into her embrace. With awoosh, they fell back onto the bed, Finlay bracing himself to spare her his full weight, but she widened her legs and welcomed him into the cradle of her body.
As he trailed kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, before dipping to nuzzle her breast with his nose, he said, “My God, Charlotte, you are more exquisite than my memories.”
“That’s because we were deep in our cups last time we did this.” She arched her back to present herself to him. She so desperately wanted his mouth on her. “I’m surprised you remember anything about our time together.”
Finlay paused and slowly raised his head, his eyebrows drawn low over his beautiful green eyes as they latched on to hers. “A case full of my grandfather’s finest whisky would be incapable of erasing the memories I hold of that night. I remember every sight. Every sound. Every touch.” He cupped her breast in his hand and, with an aching slowness, ran his tongue across her nipple. “And every taste.”
Charlotte dragged her fingers through his hair and held him close as he suckled first one breast and then the other. When he finally pulled his head up, she was writhing in pleasure so intense she’d surely burst into flames.
“Please Fin, I can’t wait,” she pleaded, desperate for him.All of him.
As he swirled his tongue along her navel, he glanced up at her with fierce eyes. “I’m not nearly done yet,” he said, before settling his broad shoulders between her thighs and dipping his head.
Chapter Twenty-One
Finlay was drowning.
Yet, instead of feeling panicked, he felt euphoric. Weightless. Completely swamped with sensations. The silky feel of Charlotte’s skin under his hands was sublime. The taste of her essence dancing across his tongue made his eyes roll back into his head. The scent of her: sun-ripened apples, woman, and arousal all coalesced until he felt drugged.
The soft mewling sounds she emitted at intervals timed with the flicks of his tongue were making it hard for him to hold on to the reins of his self-control. But after a year of heated memories, he was determined to provide Charlotte with as much gratification as possible. He found he experienced more pleasure giving her pleasure than he did by simply focusing on himself.
“Faith,” she cried suddenly, her nails scouring his scalp and bringing a smile to his lips. “Please don’t stop! I’m so close.”
And he knew she was. Even foxed, Finlay had been able to interpret Charlotte’s passionate responses as if they were written across her skin in a language only he could read.
As she squirmed under his hands, he tightened his grip on her hips, pressing his arms down on her thighs as he held his tongue exactly where she needed it. Her soft keen and subsequent shivers heralded a potent rush of victory. Without hesitation, he climbed up her sated and prone body, trailing kisses from her jaw to her temple. “May I?”
Her blue eyes snapped open. “Lud, yes.”
Charlotte wrapped her legs around his thighs as he guided himself into her welcoming core. She arched into his thrusts, her arms twined around his neck, bringing their bodies flush together. Finlay groaned at the sweet friction it created.
