A Gentleman's Curse (Avenging Lords 4)

Hudson snorted as he clasped hold of her wrist and pulled her into an embrace. “With you, I can rise to the occasion in seconds.” He brushed a soft kiss across her lips. “My blood simmers constantly, just waiting for that glazed look, that coy smile that tells me you want me.”

Claudia blinked. Her blood simmered, too, though she wasn’t aware she made any notable expressions when dreaming of caressing his naked body.

“Make love to me, Hudson.” The words left her lips in a seductive whisper.

Make love to me as if I were your wife.

In all likelihood, she would never marry. Indeed, she could not envisage having any other man as her husband. Anxiety about what would happen on

ce the week was out threatened to ruin the moment.

Refusing to surrender to her fears, Claudia came up on tiptoes and kissed him in the brazen, open-mouthed way that sent shockwaves to the intimate place between her thighs. Desire thrummed in her veins. Snaking her hand up to cup his neck, she deepened the kiss, slipping her tongue in his mouth to tease, to taste, to tempt him to respond.

A husky groan in his throat signalled the shift from slow and sensuous to desperate and depraved. He tugged on the ribbons of her cloak, pushed the garment off her shoulders to pool on the floor.

“You’re wet,” she gasped against his mouth as he crushed her to his chest.

“Isn’t that my line?”

The comment threatened to remind her they were actors playing roles until he clasped her cheeks and kissed her again—the illicit kiss of a man keen to drain every drop of pleasure from the experience.

“Take off your shirt,” she breathed.

He wasted no time in agreeing to her demand. He dragged the linen over his head, unbuttoned his breeches and pushed them low on his hips. It was then that he took a moment to notice her dress.

“I’ve missed that ugly thing,” he said, trailing his fingers across the high neckline of her brown striped bodice, down over the swell of her breasts.

Claudia sucked in a sharp breath. “I’ve nothing on beneath it. No chemise. No stays or petticoat.” She had dressed in a hurry. Intuition told her to do away with restrictions tonight.

Hudson’s tongue swept over his bottom lip. “You certainly know how to tease your husband.”

“A wife must find ways to titillate if she wishes to hold her husband’s attention.”

“You’ve had my attention since that first night in the cottage when you brought supper and tripped over the step.”

The embarrassing image came flooding back. “How fortunate you were there to offer a strong arm of support.” The memory of those large hands on her waist had kept her awake most of the night.

“By now, you must know I would use any excuse to touch you.” He captured her hand and placed her palm on his chest. “I would give anything to feel your gentle caress.”

The invitation to explore proved too tempting to resist. She ached for something. Touching him brought temporary relief.

Claudia splayed her hands over the solid muscles. His bronzed skin was damp, cool from the rain, as soft as silk though it sheathed a body as hard as marble. Rippling muscles in his abdomen drew her gaze down to the trail of dark hair that always teased a reaction. She caressed the solid planes, felt the thump of his heartbeat. Her fingers itched to delve lower, and she could not resist stroking the downy line leading to the waistband of his breeches.

Hudson’s breath hissed between his teeth.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the skin growing hotter with each graze of her fingers. He smelt of the rain, of the spicy incense and woody notes of his cologne. She inhaled his unique scent, too, the one that marked him as a hot, virile man.

Without warning, his hand slid round to cup her neck and he drew her to his mouth. The kiss was deep and long and passionate. It seared her soul, branded her body, marked her as his.

Despite the biting cold outside, inside she burned. The need to undress, to press her flesh to his flesh, proved overwhelming. But she would savour every second of this time with him.

“Wait,” she breathed when his kisses grew more rampant. She stepped back. “Remove my dress.” The tiny buttons were already undone, the consequence of rushing, of not wanting to call for a maid. “And don’t worry about the cold.”

“Oh, I’m not worried.” The hypnotic timbre of his voice made her shiver. “I know of a few ways to warm your blood.”

Without further comment, he gathered the hem of her skirt and slithered it up to her waist. His hands stroked the curve of her hips as he raised the garment up over her head. After draping it over the chaise, he took a moment to stare, to drink in the sight of her naked body as he had done the day she slipped into the bathtub.

“I’ll try to be gentle,” he said, the heat in his eyes scorching her skin, “but the hunger in my veins makes me want to thrust deep, makes me want to devour and claim and ride you hard until you cry my name.”