At Last the Rogue Returns (Avenging Lords 1)

“For as long as you want me.” The honest words fell from her lips before she could stop them.

“And what if that’s forever?” His hands followed the curve of her hips, up to cup the heavy swell of her breasts.

Lydia sucked in a breath and closed her eyes briefly. Her nipples ached, peaked and pressed against the fine lawn of his shirt. He stroked the pads of his thumbs back and forth over her nipples until she was panting and writhing on top of him.

Those magical hands came to rest on her bare thighs, edged higher and higher. The muscles in her core pulsed in anticipation. But his fingers only brushed against the hidden place crying out for his touch.

“Ah. You expected something else,” he said playfully as his hands settled on her buttocks and encouraged her to move in a tantalising rhythm over the bulge in his breeches.

“I—I don’t know what to expect.” Her head fell back as desire coursed through her body. And then he grasped the hem of the shirt and edged it higher.

Greystone inhaled deeply as he inched the garment up to her waist. “In a moment, I’m going to taste you,” he growled.

Taste her? Oh, she hoped so, for she loved nothing more than the feel of his tongue brushing against hers, nothing more than the movement of his wet mouth.

“Forgive me, I know you’re cold,” he said as he raised the shirt up over her breasts, over her head, leaving her naked. “But I promise you will soon be warm.”

Embarrassment flared.

Lydia drew her arms across her chest, but Greystone took hold of her hands and opened them wide. He looked ravenous again—and not for cherry pie.

“I can say with complete confidence that I have never seen anything more beautiful.”

Lydia felt the blush creep up her cheeks. “You say the nicest things when I am at my most vulnerable.”

“You think this is vulnerable?”

He released her hands, slid his arm around her waist and lowered her down to the bed. Greystone hovered above her. His hot gaze devoured every inch of her body, and then he bent his head and claimed her mouth in a passionate frenzy.

His kisses stole more than her breath. Like a silent thief in the night, Greystone crept into her heart and claimed that, too. A sudden rush of affection for him warmed her blood. Oh, she did not want this blissful night to end.

And then he was moving again … kissing her neck, her breasts, tracing circles around her navel with the tip of his tongue. Lust burst to the fore, hungry and lascivious.

Hooking one arm under each of her knees, he spread her legs wide.

Good Lord!

“Greystone … wait … don’t …”

“Hush, love.” The wicked glint in his eye warned of something sinful. “Do you trust me?”

“Trust you?” Lydia couldn’t think while lying there so exposed.

“Do you?”

“Yes,” she breathed with certainty. He had come to her aid on more than one occasion. She had never felt safer than when in his arms.

“Then allow me to pleasure you.”

Pushing aside her nerves, and not really knowing what he meant, Lydia nodded.

Greystone’s tongue swept over his lips. And the fire in his eyes—oh, my!

The first stroke of his tongue in her intimate place forced her to suck in a breath. This wasn’t what she imagined when she dreamt of sharing his bed. Still, every delicious lick and flick and circle sent her legs trembling, her heart racing.

“Greystone,” she panted, grabbing hold of his hair and arching her hips, eager to feel his mouth.

The devil looked up at her. “Shall I make you come like this?”