Scandalously Yours (Hellions of High Street 1)

More clothing came away, baring their bodies. Flesh against heated flesh. Now the only thing between them was the thin scrim of her lacy cotton drawers.

Olivia was a little shocked by the sensations sizzling through her core. Never had a man ignited such fire inside her. Not even that one time…

“Olivia,” he rasped. “I shouldn’t—”

“I’m not a virgin, John,” she whispered, savoring the sound of his name on her tongue. “You are not stealing my virtue.”

That had been lost several years ago, while on an expedition with her father to the isle of Crete. A handsome Frenchman had been part of the Royal Society’s team of expert scholars. He had been interesting—no, fascinating was perhaps a more accurate word. By the end of the first month he had convinced her to agree to a secret engagement. In order, he said, not to cause any distraction or dissent within the group. By the end of the following week he had seduced her into anticipating the marriage vows.

Ah, yes, silv

er-tongued Pierre. He had talked of undying love, only to decide a short while later that the idea of a permanent legshackle did not appeal to his sense of free-spirited adventure. He lost little time in taking his leave of the expedition, shrugging off the affair with casual nonchalance.

Angry at herself for being so naïve, Olivia had never told her father the truth of what had happened.

Not even her sisters knew. Some things were simply too private, too painful to speak of.

Tightening her hold on John’s sun-kissed body, she added, “If I wish to give myself to you, that should be my choice.”

In answer, he gave a rough growl. “If you are sure…”

I should not sin again, she thought. But something of her father’s radical ideas must have rubbed off on her after all, because somehow her body was responding to some primitive need pulsing deep within rather than listening to the Voice of Reason.

With a choked moan, she opened herself to his kiss. “I have never been more sure of anything.”

Her words seemed to unravel the last shred of John’s gentlemanly restraint. His palms slid up her thighs and eased them open.

Yes, yes. Then his long, lithe body, all hard muscle and heat-sparked desire, covered hers. Flesh on flesh—his weight and warmth felt unbearably wonderful. And yet, she wanted more.

More.

Arching up, Olivia wrapped her arms around his neck, tangled her hands in his hair. Its texture was like slubbed silk, rough and smooth, like John himself.

“John.” The intimate whisper of his name felt so right on her lips. She said it again.

John’s whole body shuddered in response, and the thudding of his heart quickened against her sweat-slickened skin.

“Olivia.” Their zephyr-soft voices entangled, entwined like physical caresses.

She felt his hand slip between their bodies, felt his fingertips glide through her downy curls and probe deeper. She arched again, purring with pleasure as he found her hidden pearl and began a gentle stroking.

“Yes, yes.” Urging him on with words, with touch, Olivia rocked her hips up, seeking more.

More.

As was he. A growl, deeply rough, deeply masculine, reverberated in her ear as John shifted and his arousal thrust into the honeyed slickness of her feminine folds. She heard herself cry out—a wordless plea that spoke clearly of her wanting, of her need.

John raised himself and thrust again. The head of his cock teased up against the entrance to her passageway. With a muffled groan, he eased back and then in one swift stroke he was inside her.

A pinch of pain. Her body clenched, taking a moment to adjust to him.

John went very still. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, no, it’s good,” replied Olivia. “It’s glorious.”

He kissed her slowly and softly, his lips feathering over hers as his hips resumed moving. Back and forth—ebb and flow—like the elemental rhythm of the oceans and the tides.

Olivia found herself submerged in a sea of indescribable sensations. His textures, his sounds, his scent swirled around her. Drowning, drowning, she gasped for breath, filling her lungs with a rush of cooling air. The rest of her was on fire, heat licking like a flame between her legs.