Dark Angel (Gentlemen of the Order 4)

Overcome by a sudden desire to live for the moment, she looked up at the man who had stolen her heart. “Alice said there are ways to make love without the risk of a child.”

He cupped her cheeks. “There’s always a risk, love, but I imagine she’s talking about sponges soaked in brandy or a gentleman withdrawing.”

In a move bolder than anything she had done before, Beatrice reached down and stroked his manhood. “Make love to me, Dante.”

He didn’t make love, she knew, but she had enough love for both of them.

“I’m not asking for a commitment.” She continued to fondle him. “But I need you to chase away the cold tonight.”

Dante looked conflicted. “One day you’ll marry and will want to give your husband—” His head fell back. “Hell, love, that’s so good.”

“Life is precarious. We both know that. I want you, Dante. Here. Now.”

It took less than a heartbeat for him to surrender.

His mouth came crashing down on hers with an urgency that stole her breath. The ties of self-restraint snapped, leaving them both consumed by a form of carnal madness. So much for slowing down. Their tongues filled each other’s mouths, but still, they could not get enough.

“Quickly, unbind me.”

Dante set to work on the strappings, unravelling her like an eagerly awaited gift, throwing the material to the dusty boards. He pressed her back against the bedpost, dropped to his knees, raised her chemise to her waist and rained kisses over her thighs.

“Let me worship you, love, like you deserve.”

“Yes,” she breathed, not really understanding what he meant.

With him distracted, and before she lost her mind completely, she dragged her chemise over her head and discarded it to join the rest of their clothes.

But he’d parted her sex, slipped his tongue between the folds.

Merciful Mary!

“Dante,” she managed to say before he hooked her leg over his shoulder.

She pushed her hands into his hair, held onto him as he continued to devour her intimate place. Like a wicked wanton, she couldn’t help but jerk her hips in response. The tension built, an urgency pulsing in her core. He’d once said he could read her like a book. He was right. Somehow he knew exactly when to slip his fingers inside her, knew she would splinter into a hundred pieces, knew her inner muscles would clench around him as she gasped, shuddered and called his name.

The devil looked smug as he met her gaze.

Slowly, he pushed to his feet. But not before kissing the softness of her belly, sucking her nipples, licking the mole on her breast.

“How was that, love?”

She couldn’t find the words.

“That good, eh?” He caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Come to bed.”

She gulped. “I’ll need instruction.”

“No, you won’t.” He offered his hand. “You know how to please me.”

Emboldened, she entwined her fingers with his, went with him. She would follow him anywhere.

He threw back the counterpane and sheets. “Are you sure you want to feel the weight of me pressing you into the mattress? Once

we start, I imagine we’ll both struggle for breath.”

A vision of her uncle flashed into her mind, but it left as quickly as it came.

“I’m not afraid of you, Dante.” She ran her hands over his chest, relishing the hardness beneath her fingers. She pushed up on tiptoes, kissed his neck, inhaled the uniquely masculine scent that was as calming as it was arousing.