What You Desire (Anything for Love 1)

“Just think what it will be like when we are naked … when I am pushing deep inside you,” he said as his mouth worked its way across her jaw and down her neck.

Sophie couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t think.

She felt hot, molten fire pulsing between her thighs, spreading through her body, building in heat and intensity. She could feel him, hard and solid through his breeches. Her skin tingled, her body trembled, desperate for something more.

Using both hands, he grasped her hips and began moving her back and forth in rapid strokes. Instinctively, as she rubbed against him, she arched her back, thrusting herself forward, giving access for his tongue to trace her nipple in circular motions through the fine fabric of her shirt. Then her breath came in short, sharp pants as she cried out, as her body convulsed with pure pleasure.

She collapsed in his arms and could have stayed there forever, her head on his shoulder, his strong arms clutching her close against his chest. But the carriage slowed and despite her slight embarrassment, she straightened. She was frightened to look at him, frightened she had disappointed him. After all, he had brought her pleasure and she had brought him none.

What if she wasn’t enough for him?

What would a mistress do that she hadn’t?

Feeling a surge of anger at her lack of confidence, she looked up to find his head lying back against the seat, his eyes closed, his breathing still ragged. She felt another burst of desire and could not help but lean down and kiss him softly on the mouth. His eyes shot open and he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.

The carriage rumbled to a halt, forcing her to pull away and she moved to the se

at opposite and straightened her clothes.

“If I’d known it was going to be like this,” she said with a coy smile, “I would have let you have the whole five minutes.”

His mouth curved up into a wicked grin. ‘‘It’s not even midnight. Perhaps you still have an appetite for dessert.”

Nerves threatened to push to the fore and she trampled them down. “I have suddenly developed a very large appetite,” she said, hardly recognising her own voice.

“Then you’re in luck because I believe we have only just sampled the first course.” His smile suddenly faded and he sighed. “But we need to discuss what I discovered at Labelles.”

She had spent the last six years preparing for this moment: for a chance to make her own choices, for a chance to prove she was more than a match for any woman. They would deal with her brother’s problem in the morning. A few hours would not make any difference.

“What did you discover?” she asked playfully. “That two gentlemen can desire one another?”

“Trust me, you are no gentleman. Your body is too soft, too deliciously round in all the right places.”

She gave a feigned gasp. “How very bold of you, my lord.”

“Oh, I’m no longer a lord. I’m a prince hoping to be ravaged by a tiger.”

Chapter 15

He was going to marry Sophie Beaufort.

There, he had said it. Well, perhaps not aloud and not directly to the lady herself, but he had formed the words nonetheless.

He glanced at the lady in question as she sauntered up the stone steps, her hips swaying in the tight breeches as she carried her coat over her arm. In fact, he was so damn smitten the words may as well have been carved into his forehead.

Besides, he would not be able to bed her without placating his conscience. And by God, he would bury himself deep inside her even if he spent the rest of his life paying for the pleasure.

It would not be a sacrifice; he was going to have to marry eventually. Why not Sophie Beaufort? He liked her, found her intriguing, interesting, and her passionate nature was more than a match for his own.

The memory of her examining Madame Labelle’s erotic engravings, of her panting and writhing in his lap, caused another stab of lustful desire. Of course, he expected such feelings to fade once his insatiable thirst for her had been quenched.

Mrs. Cox rushed to greet them in the hall, straightening her apron and cap as though she had just woken from a nap. “Will you be wanting anything from the kitchen, my lord?” she asked failing to suppress a yawn.

“Nothing for me, Mrs. Cox,” he replied, presenting her with his usual charming smile. The feel of Miss Beaufort’s soft thighs wrapped around him was the only thing he needed. “I believe I am in desperate need of my bed. What about you, Miss Beaufort? Can Mrs. Cox be of service or are you as eager as I to get to bed?”

Miss Beaufort smiled and her raised brow, showing amusement at his mischievous remarks. “If it is not too much trouble, I would love a glass of syllabub.” She stepped closer and touched Mrs. Cox affectionately on the arm. “But would you mind if I took it up to my room? You see, like Lord Danesfield, I too can think of nothing other than tumbling into bed. Yet, the thought of tasting something sweet is just too tempting an offer to pass.”

My God. For a woman of little experience, she was extremely skilled in the art of titillation, Sebastian thought. Had it not been for Mrs. Cox, he’d have said he would like to taste something sweet in his mouth too, and it wouldn’t be syllabub.