Page 70 of House of Thorns
He shifted lower, kissing a trail to her collar bone.
The moonlight filtering through the window lit her skin with a silvery glow, enough to contrast the flesh of her square collar line and the soft swells of her breasts pushing up, teasing him.
Then, her lips found his. He kissed her back. She was so willing and warm. She moaned, instinctively pressing against him.
Heat thrummed through him, the kind of heat that could end with her beneath him, a ribbon tied beneath her naked breasts. It was too soon, of course, but, by God, he’d enjoy straddling the line.
He traced his tongue under the seam of her lip, then drew back to graze her lips with his teeth.
She shivered, her breasts so soft against his chest. His hand lifted and caught the underside of that luscious curve. She arched against him, ever so slightly. Good God, she was a temptress. He drove his tongue into her mouth as he cupped his hand over her soft swell. This time, the moan was his. His cock hardened. It took every ounce of discipline he possessed to still his hips. How he ached to rock against her.
The piano played on, strains of a hauntingly beautiful melody, as she ran her hands up his chest. He shivered. She held him in the palm of her hand. Did she know just how much power she wielded?
He nuzzled the sensitive flesh beneath her ear and squeezed her breast as he dropped his free hand low over the base of her spine and down to the curve of her buttocks. She was so ripe. So luscious. His cock ached, straining his breeches. His blood began to pound. He needed more. He needed to taste her flesh, at least.
She moaned, shivering as he dropped a line of kisses over her collar bone. Then, he lifted his hand and pulled her gown down, over her shoulder.
Her hard nipple rolled against his palm.
She moaned, pressing against him.
He smiled, and dropped his head further, planting kisses over her soft flesh as he lifted her breast to his eager lips.
“Heavens,” she whispered as his mouth closed over her nipple.
As her hands threaded through his hair, he groaned with pleasure, drawing deep upon her.
“Nicholas,” she panted.
Her gown dropped off her other shoulder, baring both breasts to his touch, his mouth. He switched breasts, teasing her nipple with his teeth as he lightly pinched the one he’d just released.
She gasped and arched her hips against him.
His thinking slowed…was there even thinking involved, anymore?—beyond that of sliding his cock into the sweet heat between her legs? He nursed upon her, nipping and suckling as she dropped her head back, exposing the long line of her white, tender neck.
By God, he was tempted to take her, right there.
He kissed his way back up to her mouth, his cock hard, the buttons on his breeches threatening to burst.
Then, he noticed the piano had fallen silent and footsteps approached.
“Olivia?” her father’s voice called out.
With a quirk of his lips, he chuckled under his breath, stepped back, and quickly drew her gown over her shoulders.
She caught her breath and cast a look to the curtains.
“Tomorrow,” he whispered in her ear.
Tomorrow, he’d escort her to the Duke’s dinner…and after?
He smiled as he slipped out the front door, making his escape as her father entered the shop. He was halfway down the lane before he realized he’d left his hat behind.
