“Heaven help me, Lara, you drive me insane.” He rained kisses down the column of her throat, wrapped both arms around her waist, bent his head and drew his lips over the exposed swell of her breasts.
“Hugo.” She pushed her hands into his hair and gripped hard. Lord, her nipples ached for release from their restrictive confines. Her sex took command of her mind, begging for the pleasure she’d heard talk of so often. “Do something, something to ease this all-consuming longing.”
He raised his head, the sinful smile casting a devilish glint in his eyes. “If I’m to touch you so scandalously, Miss Bennett, then I must make you my wife.”
“Let us not talk of that now.” Passion confused the mind, stole one’s rationale. “I expect nothing other than the feel of your lips on mine.”
“That won’t ease the ache,” he said, although that didn’t stop him capturing her mouth in a kiss that was as confident and as self-assured as him.
He continued the sensual assault, delving so deep as to taste every inch of her mouth. When his large hand gathered up her skirts and edged up past her stocking to stroke her bare thigh, she couldn’t help but moan with anticipation.
It was the same lustful anticipation that saw her run her hands over his chest and thighs.
“Grip my lapels and don’t let go,” he said, dragging his mouth from hers. “I want to watch you when your body shudders with pleasure.”
“Lord Denham!” The salacious comment roused shock and excitement. “Whatever do you mean to do?”
“I mean to do this, Miss Bennett.” His fingers brushed over her sex to leave a scorching trail in their wake. “As many times as it takes for you to find your release.”
“Good Lord.” She closed her eyes. The slightest touch left her panting, wanting more. Indeed, he did not disappoint. He slid his fingers back and forth in an achingly sensual rhythm. The more he played her, the more the coil inside tightened. Like a wanton, she couldn’t help but jerk her hips and rub against his hand.
“Better than any form of enjoyment one might find in a parlour game?” he teased.
Lara gathered the strength to look at him. Oh, he seemed thoroughly pleased with himself, and so she drew her hand down his chest, down over the solid bulge in his breeches.
“Christ!” His eyes glazed, and he lost his rhythm for a moment. “This is about your climax, not mine.”
“Do you not seek pleasure, my lord?”
“Watching you gasp and writhe is pleasure enough.” His fingers grazed over her entrance. “Do you want to feel my fingers inside you, Lara?”
Heavens, a sudden rush of desire stole her breath.
“You must give your permission,” he continued, massaging and teasing her sex until she was panting. “You must speak honestly.”
If he wanted honesty, she would give it to him. “I want you, Hugo de Wold, and will take anything you’re willing to give.”
He hummed, deep and throaty, as he slipped one, then two fingers inside her. Mother of all saints. The feel of him stroking her sensitive skin was her undoing. The coil snapped, and she came apart in his hands, shaking and trembling as delicious waves of ecstasy flooded her body.
Aware that he watched her with intense fascination, she kissed him on the lips, drew on their mingled breath to refill her lungs.
“What can I do for you?” she said, trying to calm the rapid rise and fall of her chest. The realisation that she wanted this man in every conceivable way took root.
“Lara, that’s enough for tonight, else I fear I’ll cover your body in seconds and make love to you as I’ve wanted to since the first night we met.”
“And what if I need you to touch me again?” She loved teasing a reaction.
“Then all you need do is ask.” He cupped her nape and drew her into another kiss. This time, she felt an outpouring of emotion as their tongues tangled. “I could keep you here forever,” he whispered against her mouth, “but we must return to our respective rooms else Montague will use me for target practice.”
Lara straightened. She still felt a little giddy as she stepped out of his embrace. “You’ve yet to tell me the news about the viscount.”
From his ragged breathing, and the way he devoured her with his arresting eyes, the viscount was the last thing on his mind.
He sighed, pushed a lock of hair from his brow and said, “If Northcott’s shipping venture fails, he faces bankruptcy. And my mother’s lady’s maid witnessed Miss Venables at the gate the night Bertie was murdered.”
“Good Lord. Perhaps if you question her, she might confess and tell you all she knows. I speak of Miss Venables, not the maid.”
“We’ll discuss it at greater length tomorrow.” His gaze dipped to her décolletage. “Presently, the more time we spend alone in this room, the more I must fight the need to ravish you.”