Page 83 of Lord Ashley's Beautiful Alibi
She giggled.
He glared, his outrage pure fluff as he yanked away her little ribboned hat and fisted the wealth of her hair. “You are a tease.”
She brushed her lips on his. “You like me, though.”
He lifted his hips and her, then put her down on him in a manner that told her he was more at ease and more erect than a moment before. With a nip to her lower lip, he whispered, “I like you, though.”
“How much?” She circled an arm around his massive shoulders.
“More than you know, wife.” His stare could melt her down here and now, as if she were his golden trophy.
“Show me,” she mouthed.
He had kissed her before. In desire and in the dark, he had taken her mouth and taught her that the beginning of want continued with the satisfaction of mindless tastes of lips and tongues and endless enchantments. But here, she now his to do with as he wanted, and he hers to do with as she had only imagined, the way he kissed her was as if she were his prize. His infinitely priceless treasure.
She broke away. “We’re going home, I hope.”
“We are,” he said, and crushed her up against him. “Home to bed.”
“Oh, thank heaven.” She closed her eyes, feeling the press of his lips to the line of her bodice, his hot palms searing one breast, her nipples rising to the occasion of her own ravishment. “I thought you’d never ask.”
He chuckled against the hollow between her breasts. “Should I ask for permission in the future?”
“Never.”
“Such a good wife you are, my darling,” he said, and took her lips once more.
The coach rumbled to a stop.
“Nooo,” she objected to the interruption, and burrowed her face in his shoulder.
“We’re home. Come now, wife. Smile to the servants.”
She swallowed hard and sat up. “I want you here.”
He put her to her bench. “Trust me. You’ll like better what I have for you.”
Her eyes flicked down to the juncture of his impressive assets. “I already do.”
“If you do not move quickly when this door opens, you will have me coming before you can enjoy me. Then you will have to wait.”
She thrust up a hand as the footman opened the door. “I’m leaving already.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
She took thestairs like a queen leaving her audience, and Kane followed, his eyes blind to all but her.
Corsini had pulled open the front doors the moment Gus set foot on the stones. The footman, one of Corsini’s best, had stared only at the drive. Kane had knitted his brows in mirth. He’d ordered the staff’s discretion for their return to his house, but this display was exceptional. He’d praise Corsini later. The other servants, as per his strict orders, had disappeared like ghosts.
At the landing to the third floor, Kane circled Gus and took the lead. Grasping her hand, he tipped his head. “This way.”
In a trice, he had the door to his suite open, her inside, the door closed, and she against the wood.
“I’m impressed,” she managed to get out before he kissed her again, lavishly this time.
“I hope not half as much as you are about to be.” He ran his hands up her hips to her ribs and her luscious breasts.
“I’m interested in all your proofs,” she said as her fingers grazed the buttons of his flies.
