The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London 4)

“You know I will,” she panted.

With a wild, sinful look in his eyes,

he stared at her while unbuttoning his breeches. “Loving you has never been a problem for me. Trusting you, on the other hand, has proved infinitely more difficult.”

“I understand.”

With an arrogant grin, he pushed his breeches off his hips to reveal his solid shaft. Heavens above. Her nipples ached at the sight. The pulses in her intimate place grew more profound.

“Then you will answer the next question honestly. But first, believe me when I tell you that you’re the only woman I have pleasured these last two years.” He took her hands and brought her to her feet. “You’re the only woman I will pleasure until the day you say you no longer want me.”

“That will never happen.”

After removing her cloak, Ross turned her around and unthreaded the ties on her dress. Once undone, his hands settled on her shoulders, and he pushed the garment free until it fell to the floor. He did the same with her petticoat.

She wore front-fastening stays and so he would need to turn her back to face him. Instead, he stood behind her, the heat of his body penetrating the thin fabric. His hands traced the curve of her hips and the fullness of her breasts as he pressed his erection against her buttocks.

“Do you like that, Estelle?”

“Yes.” Her body ached for him, craved that which she had been denied for so long.

“Later, you can tell me what my father did to make you doubt me,” Ross said, pressing his lips to her neck, nipping the sensitive spot with his teeth, gently sucking. “You can tell me the reason you felt you couldn’t speak to me.”

Ross drew her round to face him, proceeded to work on her stays, tugging at the ties, pulling them free, watching her with a hot, intense gaze that made her knees weak. Her breasts jiggled as he continued with his ministrations. The sensual curve of his lips forced her to swallow hard.

Once he’d freed her of her stays, he stepped back. “Remove your chemise.”

She wasn’t sure she had the strength to lift the flimsy garment.

“Do it slowly. Tease me, Estelle. Reveal yourself to me in such a way that I can barely contain my excitement.”

Oh, heavens!

Not knowing how to tempt a man, all she could do was listen to the demands of her body, embrace the fierce passion flaming within. She closed her eyes briefly and let lust take her.

“Do you want me, Ross?” she whispered, reaching up and removing the pins from her hair. Raven black locks tumbled down over her shoulders.

“Good God, I want you so badly, I’m struggling to stand.”

His reply bolstered her confidence.

She skimmed her hands down the front of her chemise intending to reach for the hem. But her aching nipples relished the light brushing, and so she cupped her breasts and fondled them as she wanted him to do.

Ross blinked, gulped, his breathing grew heavy, and she found she rather liked playing the temptress.

“Minx,” he said.

Excited by his response, she ran her hands over her hips, dared to venture to the intimate place that throbbed for his touch. When her fingers skimmed down between the apex of her thighs, a pleasurable moan left her lips.

His hard shaft jerked in response, and he took himself in hand and stroked back and forth as if it eased the pressure building inside. Gripping the hem, she slid the material up inch by inch, aware that he was biting down on his bottom lip, that a hum resonated in his throat when she exposed her breasts.

“I knew you would be beyond beautiful,” he said, his heated gaze devouring every inch of her body as she dropped her chemise on the floor. “I cannot tell you how many times I have imagined it in my mind. But still you take my breath away.”

“I too have thought of you many times. I have stared out at sea and dreamed that a wave would come and scoop me up and carry me back home to you.”

He closed the gap between them, bent his head and kissed the brown birthmark he’d last looked upon with disdain. “You are home now. This is where you are supposed to be.” His arm snaked around her back as his tongue traced the outline of her nipple, teasing her, tempting her.

She pushed her hands into his hair, inhaled the intoxicating scent of bergamot, of something unique, totally masculine. “Tell me how it would have been on our wedding night.”