Page 54 of Temptress in Disguise
“Be gentle,” she said, beckoning him closer. “Be patient.”
“I’ll not hurt you.” He’d kill anyone who harmed a hair on her head. “You must say if you want me to stop.”
When she nodded, he braced himself and eased into her slowly. She was warm and wet, so snug she sheathed him like a glove. He withdrew, rolled his hips and pushed a little deeper, steeling himself against the urge to pump hard.
Mother of all saints! She felt divine.
He’d never taken a woman like this. He never cared to look at them, always sought to remain detached. But Naomi insisted on tearing down his barriers. She was determined to stare into his soul and remove every barricade.
“Aramis,” she panted, clutching the coverlet in her small fists. “I—I need to touch you. If only for a moment.”
He gritted his teeth, aware he was about to become a captive of the fae. “Very well. When I’ve pushed past your maidenhead, I need to thrust hard. Hold on to me. Take all of me, love.”
Everything changed when she wrapped her arms and legs around him and held him close. He was twice her size, yet her embrace had the power to knock a man down in the first round.
He had suffered many unwelcome surprises in his life. Who knew a virgin who’d held him hostage at gunpoint would break his spell of bad luck?
He began moving again, driving slowly in and out of her, angling his hips to better the sensations, while his enchantress traced circles on his back. Her touch conjured strange thoughts and impossible dreams. No more nightmares—but glorious days and happy endings.
“Do it now, Aramis.” She cupped his cheek, encouraging him to watch her reaction as he thrust to the hilt.
His throat tightened as he sank deep. He expected to see her wince in pain, for a visible sign she disliked the intrusion. But the light of happiness danced in her eyes.
You belong to me, he wanted to say. “No court in the land would annul our marriage now.”
As always, she said something heartfelt, something special. “I’d not want to share this moment with anyone but you.”
Their mouths met with carnal urgency. Every deep slide into her proved exquisite. But as lust’s coil wound so tight he could barely breathe, and he spurted his seed over her belly, worrying thoughts entered his head.
A man could be a dangerous bastard when he had little to lose.
Now, the stakes were high.
What if the devil had marked him?
What if happiness was meant for other men, never for him?
ChapterTwelve
Tuttle’s Silversmith
Villiers Street
When Naomi entered the silversmith’s, she found Mr Tuttle sitting behind the counter, polishing the plates he’d removed from the bow window.
The white-haired man looked up from the tedious task, saw her and blinked in shock. “Miss Grant? I thought you were visiting relatives in Northwood. That’s what I told the gentleman who called last night. Evidently, I spoke in error.”
“What gentleman?” Though her heart galloped, she pasted a smile and avoided drawing attention to the landlord’s frequent lapse in memory. “I know few people here in town. Perhaps he meant to ask for my sister.”
Or Edwin Budworth heard she was a suspect in his brother’s murder and wished to know why she wasn’t locked in a dank cell in Newgate. Worse still, was her devious uncle on the prowl?
“He asked for you by name and wished to speak to you urgently. I told him you had joined your sister in Northwood. Forgive me. When you didn’t return home, I presumed my memory had failed me.”
She was at fault for lying about Lydia’s whereabouts.
“Did this gentleman leave a name or calling card?” Aramis moved to stand beside her, his broad frame casting the ageing man in shadow. “I shall need a detailed description.”
Mr Tuttle’s brows knitted in concentration. “He didn’t give a name, but he was tall, forty and of medium build. I’m certain he had brown hair, though he wore his hat pulled so low I could barely see his face.”
