What You Desire (Anything for Love 1)

Her terrified gaze shot to his hand. Ruby-red rivulets of blood stained his fingers and trickled down from split knuckles. He caught her gaze and removed a handkerchief from his coat pocket, dabbed it on the torn skin and winced when he clenched his fist to admire the damage.

“Your hand,” she panted. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” he replied dismissively. “I have a rule about fleeing a scene without giving my pursuers an idea of what to expect should we ever meet again.” He flexed his fingers and she heard a bone crack. “I believe I caught one of them a little too hard on the jaw.”

He removed his hat and placed it on the seat next to him, threw the handkerchief inside and used his good hand to run his fingers through his thick hair. A damp lock fell over his brow. He was still slightly breathless and his eyes sparkled from the exhilaration.

It was possibly the most enthralling vision she had ever seen.

A rush of pure physical desire flooded her senses, making her catch her breath, making her skin tingle. All she could think about was the memory of his warm mouth moving against hers, a memory she was desperate to relive.

He glanced up at her through the shadows, evidently mistaking her heated look for one of anger. “It’s just a graze. It will heal,” he shrugged, his tone apologetic. “I was never in any —”

“When will we be home?” Sophie interrupted, trying her best not to stumble over the words. “I mean, how long will it take?”

He hesitated and then peered out of the window at their surroundings. “Five minutes, perhaps. Why?”

“Would you mind pulling down your blind?” she asked, her hands trembling as she unbuttoned her coat and shrugged it off her shoulders. She folded it into a neat package and placed it on the seat with her hat.

“Certainly, but you’ll be cold without your coat.” He leaned forward and pulled down the blind, plunging them into semi-darkness.

She almost laughed aloud. Was he feigning naiveté? Or was she so unskilled in the art of seduction, he was missing the signs? Sophie leaned forward and pulled down her blind, too.

“You cannot expect to sleep —”

“Hush,” she murmured in a soft, languorous tone. “I do not want to sleep, Dane. I do not want to think or talk.”

I want to live. I want to choose. I want to be free.

With all the courage she could muster, she reached across and placed her hands on his knees. The hard muscles flexed beneath her fingers and she heard his sharp intake of breath. Before rational thought took over, she slid across and tumbled into his lap. “I just want to feel,” she whispered in his ear.

He was silent for a moment and then he breathed deeply. “Then I am more than happy to oblige,” he murmured as she wrapped her arms around his neck and brushed her mouth softly against his.

She expected him to take control, but he did not.

Instead, he let her move her mouth across his in a slow, sensual assault that left her aching for something more. Desperate to feel the warmth of his body, she pressed herself against him letting her tongue skim lightly across the seam of his lips. Moving her hands to grip his shoulders, she turned in his lap, lifting one leg over to straddle him. His low, guttural groan of appreciation spurred her on and she claimed his mouth again, her tongue finding his in a desperate bid to stoke the flames of passion coursing through her body. She let her hands trail down over his broad chest, giddy at the feel of him, even through his clothes.

“You do want me?” she asked, doubt creeping in.

“I have never wanted anything more in my entire life.” His deep drawl sent her pulse racing and he placed his arm around her waist and shuffled them both to the edge of the seat. He felt hard beneath his breeches and as he pulled her closer, he rubbed against her most intimate place. “Is that not proof enough?”

The carriage rocked back and forth as it raced along the uneven road, the movement causing her to rub against him again and again, until she felt so drunk with desire she threw her head back and whispered his name.

“You’ve had your three minutes,” he panted. “Now it’s my turn.”

She lifted her head and gazed into sinful brown eyes. “That only leaves you with two minutes,” she teased.

“You will be amazed at what I can achieve in such a short time.”

He wasted no time at all.

Despite grazed knuckles, his nimble fingers undid the buttons on her waistcoat and he pulled her shirt up until it was free of her breeches. Placing a hand behind her neck he brought her mouth to his. He kissed her gently at first as he moved his free hand up inside the front of her shirt, his palm cupping her breast, his thumb brushing gently over her nipple.

“Oh, Dane,” she whispered against his mouth.

He reclined back against the seat and she followed him, her hands grabbing the lapels of his coat, clutching the material in her fists as he took her mouth in a frenzy of unadulterated passion.

His hands drifted down to her waist and pulled her against him, and she could feel the rigid length of his arousal.