Page 87 of The Pleasures of Passion
“God help me,” he murmured. “I’d swear you have the most supple breasts in all England.” Then, growling her name, he swept her up in his arms and tumbled her onto the rumpled bedcovers with a low cry of exultation before covering her body with his.
And it wasglorious, like being consumed by a magnificent beast. Which was precisely what he was, her reckless rakehell. With all the ferociousness of a Bengal tiger, he devoured her mouth while his hands fondled her breasts through her nightdress.
She plucked at his clothes, desperate to touch bare skin and hard muscle, and that seemed to give him pause. “Aren’t you worried your aunt will hear us?”
“She sleeps like the dead, trust me.”
That was aslightexaggeration, but she didn’t care. Niall was her fiancé. What was Aunt Agatha going to do—force him to marry her? At this point, even that sounded appealing.
“Besides,” she went on, “I want you.”
“Do you?” He stared down at her a long moment. “Well then, who am I to protest?”
He rose to dispense with his clothes as she watched in avid anticipation. Their hurried lovemaking against trees hadn’t allowed her a chance to see him naked, so when he started to climb back into bed, she whispered, “Wait. I want to look at you.”
His eyes glinted in the light of the fire. “Does this mean that my Lady Rebel is making an appearance?”
“Apparently.” In the morning, she would undoubtedly rethink her rebellion, but right now she delighted in it. She wanted him in her arms and in her bed.Now.
“Then I want tit for tat. Literally.” He crossed his arms over a chest that was as broad as it was sculpted. In the firelight the hair dusting it glimmered golden, making her want to smooth her hands over every inch. He must have realized it, for he cast her a cocky grin. “Take off your nightgown, sweeting.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. She’d never been fully naked for anyone, even her husband. Yet her answer was decisive. “All right.” She rose up on the bed just enough to tug her nightdress over her head and toss it to the floor.
It left her totally exposed before his hot perusal, which ought to have made her nervous. Yet somehow Niall’s ravening gaze, touching on her breasts, her belly, her thighs . . . her privates, only aroused her further. Niall had experienced all of her body in furtive touches, but this blatant conquering with his eyes was so much more intimate. Erotic.Thrilling.
With her blood pounding in her ears, she surveyed every inch of his male beauty. Lord, but he was fine. He was taut where Reynold had been soft, lean where Reynold had run to fat. He was as different from her late husband as a wolf from an overfed dog. Heaven help her, but that made her desire him all the more.
She held out her hands. “Come to bed, my wild rogue.”
He approached, but didn’t join her. “Is that how you see me still?”
“Do you mind?” she asked, surprised by the disappointment in his voice.
“Not at present,” he said, utterly serious. “But I may in the morning.”
“Then we’ll deal with it in the morning. For tonight, however, can you just be my wild rogue?”
He reached up to stroke her hair, then wrapped a hank of it lightly around his hand so he could then draw it over her nipple repeatedly, until she was gasping at the tantalizing caress.
Firelight caught his smile. “I can do anything, if it means having you. Like this, aching for me, gasping for me. Wanting me as much as I want you. Say it again. That you want me.”
“When you look at me like that, I want you more than you can ever dream.”
“I doubt that,” he said, running his hands down her sides to her waist. “I have pretty vast dreams of you wanting me, sweeting.”
She drew his hand between her legs. “So do I.”
With a sharp intake of breath, he cupped her down there, then took her mouth with a fierceness bordering on savagery. Next thing she knew, he was pressing her back onto the bed so he could lie on top of her. The feel of him surrounding her was so exquisite that she arched up against him, hungry for more.
“Ah, my lovely, wanton girl,” he murmured.
“Take me, Niall,” she whispered against his throat. “The way you do in your dreams.”
“This is ten times better than any dream,” he said hoarsely. Then he filled her with his flesh in one sleek stroke.
She’d have expected such haste to make their joining unsatisfying, but instead it was ferocious and exotic and absolutely wonderful. He drove into her and she felt every thrust to the depths of her soul. She fondled him, and he moaned with each touch as if she’d caught the essence of him.
With silent caresses, they made the sweetest love she could imagine, and she relished every moment.Thiswas what she’d expected of marriage, this union of bodies and pleasure and passion and . . . oh, everything.
