Slave to the Night (The Brotherhood 2)

I need you now, Grace.

The words echoed through her mind, and she shot round to face him. "I heard you. I heard your thought."

"I wondered if you might."

She could feel the raw masculine power emanating from him. The intoxicating energy infused her being. "What does that mean?"

He glanced over her shoulder, stepped back into the alcove and tried the door to find it open. "I'll show you what it means," he said as he pulled her inside.

Chapter 16

The heavy thrum of desire beat its potent rhythm, hard and powerful, and Elliot could no longer control his actions. As soon as the door reconnected with the jamb, he pulled her into an embrace, pushing her back against the wooden panel and claiming her mouth.

She threw her gloves to the floor, ran her hot palms up over his chest and clutched his shoulders. Frantic hands raced over his back, her bare fingers creeping up to run through his hair as his tongue thrust wildly against hers.

Grace arched her back and pressed her willing body into his.

The sensual movement caused Elliot to moan into her mouth.

The need to mate with her was the most intense feeling he had ever experienced. It went beyond a physical need.

There were no words to define it.

Her sweet taste fed his craving. The smell of her hair and skin flooded his senses to calm and excite at the same time.

While the guests in the packed ballroom were busy drinking and dancing, he imagined positioning himself between her cushioned thighs and pushing inside her core. The strokes would be long and slow and deep. Possessive. The moist sound coupled with her little pants and groans would be music to his ears. Her body would sing to his tune, the beautiful aria drifting out to express her pleasure, her appreciation.

Always for him.

Only for him.

As he tore his lips away in his eagerness to lock the door, he peered out into the dim room. The harp's shiny gilt frame caught his attention; the pianoforte took centre stage to the rows of chairs lined up ready for the recital.

At any moment, there could be a knock on the door. The elderly matrons eagerly forming a queue outside, keen to be the first to enter, keen to find a seat near the front. Their reproachful gazes would drift over Grace's mussed hair, over the shabby state of her clothing. The unmistakable scent of sated lust in the air would confirm their suspicions.

No one would give him a second glance.

In everyone's eyes, Grace would become the errant knight's cape: something relegated to the muddy gutter. Something to trample over. Something beneath them.

"We can't stay here," he suddenly said, though his solid cock jerked in protest. "We'll be discovered."

"Why?" She glanced around the room, the glassy lustre of desire fading from her eyes as she became aware of her surroundings. "Is there to be a concert tonight?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. But I will not take the chance. I'll not expose you to the degrading taunts and snide comments if we're caught."

It hit him then. With every other woman, every other time, he'd not giv

en a damn about the repercussions.

But he cared now.

He cared deeply.

Elliot sucked in a breath as he let the thought seep into his consciousness.

Grace smoothed her hands down the front of her gown, drawing his gaze to her full, sumptuous breasts waiting to be released from their silk prison, waiting for the feel of his fingers, for the flick of his tongue.

Bloody hell.