Page 10 of A Talent for Temptation
He’d never spoken of his heart before. It made her yearn and burn and want what she knew she shouldn’t—Quinn . . . and everything he represented: a happy,regularlife where she didn’t have to creep around like a ghost at parties and worry about being caught—or having her husband caught. Where the only secrets she had to keep were her own. And his, of course.
What if shecouldhave a regular life with him? Wouldn’t that be worth whatever difficulties there might be? If he didn’t care about her past, should she?
As if he sensed the direction of her thoughts, he kissed her mouth. Hard. Brazenly. Thoroughly. And as always, her bones turned to jelly. His hands moved over her neck and shoulders, stroking a curve here, a sensitive expanse of skin there, setting her aflame with each caress.
The heat from the fireplace was nothing compared to the heat from his hands. It was all she could do not to strip her clothes off and let him have his way with her right there. The man had a decided talent for temptation.
Oh, what if she could have a regular life withthisas part of it? Him taking her in his arms and making her feel special for reasons beyond the information she could glean.
Did she dare try? And if she did, would Gregory ever forgive her?
“I want to make love to you,” Quinn whispered. “Here. Now. I want to show you how it could be between us.”
A thrill coursed through her. “Are you sure? You’re hurt.”
His laugh was free and full. “I’d walk through the fires of hell to have you, my darling. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”
She was beginning to. And the thought of it made her as giddy as a child in a sweets shop. “Then take whatever you want of me,” she said, looping her arms about his neck. “Just make sure you lock the door first.”
Three
Quinn strode for the parlor door with his blood aflame. He burned to make her his, to have her in his bed, his arms, hislife, at last.
If she would let him make love to her, surely she would agree to marry him. She’d already admitted that she was attracted to him, that she preferred him to Fulkham because . . .
You’re exactly what you seem—a decent man devoid of schemes.
Hell and be damned. Well, she’d never find out about his foolish plan if he kept quiet about it. His servant was entirely loyal to him.
As he turned the key in the lock, he thrust those small misgivings aside and headed back to her. Then he froze. She had her skirts hitched up to her waist and was unfastening her drawers.
“What are you doing?” he asked as he approached her.
Two bright spots of red stained her cheeks. “I thought we were . . . I mean—”
“We are.” He gently tugged her skirts from her hands. “But I’m not going to toss up your skirts and ravish you like some doxy. I’ve been waiting months for this.” His voice thickened. “I want to undress you, to see you laid bare one delectable piece at a time.”
He took her hair down, and the rich cascade of golden curls nearly brought him to his knees. Twining a hank of it around his hand, he took in her scent, which mingled soap and almonds in heady measures. God, how he loved the smell of her.
Turning her around, he unbuttoned her gown and slid it off, then went to work on her petticoats. “I want to kiss and caress every part,tasteevery part. I mean to take my time making love to you.”I mean to convince you that marriage to me will have benefits you haven’t yet fathomed.
Ifhe could hold out that long. His cock was already as hard as the fireplace poker.
He ran his hand down the soft contours of her bared arms, and she trembled. “I thought men . . . liked this to be quick.”
“Some men, I suppose.” Smoothing her hair away from her neck, he kissed the nape, exulting when her breath sped up. “Why? Was your husband like that?”
“John was always in a . . . hurry with everything. It was in his nature.”
“Well, it’s not in mine,” he said, praying that he could make good on that just now. “Anticipation is part of the pleasure.”
He undid her corset and slipped it off before filling his hands with her ample breasts through her shift. She gasped, then pressed into his caress. As he thumbed her nipples, they hardened into cherry stones, making him hunger to do more than just touch them.
Drawing her around to face him, he removed her shift so he could see what he’d been caressing. A blush spread down her chest as he surveyed her bounty. His mouth went dry. Her breasts were heavy, topped with luscious, shell-pink nipples he wanted to lick and nibble and suck.
So he did, bending to take one breast in his mouth as he fondled the other with his hand.
“Oh,Lord,” she whispered, leaning into him. “You do that . . . very well.” She clutched his head to her chest, and he obliged her by laving and kneading her until he had her panting.
