His Black Sheep Bride (Aristocratic Grooms 1)

Heaven.

He reached out and drew the pad of his forefinger over her nipple.

She gasped, and he hoped the sensation was as exquisite as she gave every evidence of it being.

Her eyes flashed. “Looking for some novelty, Sawyer? A shag with someone who’s not your usual type?”

“With someone who’s my wife.”

“In name only!”

“Labels are only as meaningful as we allow them to be.”

She bent to snatch up the towel, but he was just as fast…bending with her and dragging her into the shelter of his arms as his mouth fastened on hers.

Lips locked together, they rose slowly.

He folded her close, and her arms inched around his neck. The wetness that still clung to her skin dampened them both, joining them, as his arousal settled against her.

Ever since their first kiss, the attraction between them had been combustible, and now it seemed they were both powerless as it flamed to life again.

His hand slipped down her back, rubbed over her derriere and back up again. She felt so good.

He moved his mouth from hers, trailing kisses across her cheek and down to her throat.

“You’re a moth to the flame, aren’t you, Sawyer?” she taunted softly.

He lifted his head, and looked into her green eyes, bright with desire and provocation.

“Does it get boring for you buttoned-down types?” Tamara asked.

“Never when you’re around.”

A hint of vulnerability flashed across her face, but it was quickly gone. “Is that a compliment?”

“A promise.”

She opened her mouth, but he swallowed her response with his, breathing in the scent of jasmine that lingered lightly on her skin.

He slid his hand over her thigh, lifting it and wrapping it around him.

He let his hands dance over her body, plying her with pleasure until he felt her relax. Only then did he bend over her, cupping and nuzzling her br**sts.

He laved one nipple and then the other, heard her moan, and then fastened his mouth over one breast.

Her hands tangled in his hair, and her moan fueled his ardor.

He lifted his mouth to move to the other breast. “You’re so responsive.”

“We unconventional types usually are.”

Her reply made him smile.

“Show me,” he urged, planting a quick nip on the rose tattoo that always drew him.

She was obviously set on reminding him how different she was from his usual type, because she thought he was after a quick coupling with novelty value.

Instead he… Well, he would love to demonstrate to her just how novel an experience theirs could be. There was so much passion between them that he couldn’t wait to explore.

But then he thought unexpectedly of that hint of vulnerability he’d seen earlier.

Damnation.

He wanted her. But if he took her, she’d think it was because she was the flavor of the day.

The movement of her hand cut into his thoughts. He felt the flutter of a caress along his arousal, and then another, and bit back a groan.

Her hand slid up and down along the length of him through his pajama bottoms, again and again.

Hot and heady sensation coursed through him. His breath became more labored and he felt his muscles bunch, readying his body for release. He needed to be inside her. Except he couldn’t.

Hell and damn.

He turned his head and growled next to her ear, “You, too.”

Then he cupped her intimately, his hand delving into the damp curls at the juncture of her thighs, interrupting her hand in its steady motion on him.

After a moment, he slipped a finger inside her and felt her body clasp around him, pulling tight as a bow.

They both groaned with satisfaction.

He moved his thumb, finding the nub hidden in her curls with unerring accuracy, and pressed.

She gasped, and then her hand reached up to grasp his arm. “Sawyer…”

“Yes, say my name,” he replied thickly.

He pressed forward, feeling her tremble with anticipation.

And in the next instant, she shattered, shaking and crying out, her body racked with waves of pleasure that seeped from her skin to his.

He held her, and moments later, feeling her heart still pounding, he moved damp hair back from her face and brushed his lips across hers.

A promise.

“Sawyer,” she said scratchily.

But he wasn’t done.

He knelt and cupped her bottom, bringing her against his mouth. He gave her an intimate kiss, one that had her body rising up to meet him while the breath seemed to leave her lungs in a whoosh.

Soon, she came apart again, this time against his mouth, and his palms smoothed down her legs, easing the tremor that signaled her release.

When he finally rose, his eyes locked on hers. Her face was flushed, her lips full and red, and her eyes wide and glazed.

He stifled an oath. His body still hurt with his unspent release. But in her eyes, there was still that vulnerability, reminding him how easily she could be hurt by what he did.

He bent and handed her the fallen towel, though many of the droplets that had clung to her skin had evaporated—no doubt due to their steamy encounter.

Then silently, he turned and walked from the room before he gave in to temptation.

Ten

With experienced precision, Tamara used the tweezers to set the opal in place, and then sat back and sighed.

She removed her visor, whose attached magnifying glass she had previously turned up, and rubbed the back of her neck.

She stared out at the majestic English countryside beckoning to her from between the damask drapes of her sitting room. It was early, before eight, but soon she’d have no choice but to face Sawyer again.

After having slept badly, she’d resorted to one of her better relaxation techniques. There was something soothing, almost tranquilizing, about jewelry-making. Like knitting, it kept the hands busy while allowing the mind to wander.

She always traveled with a jewelry project or two, just so she’d have something to turn to if necessary—and with Sawyer around, it was proving very necessary.

Methodically, she put away her implements, placing pliers and tweezers back in their carrying cases. She closed the box holding semiprecious gemstones, and put away her portable metal-working kit.

She hadn’t heard any movement in the earl’s suite next door, so Sawyer was either sleeping soundly or had woken up before she’d gotten out of bed.

For her part, she had tossed and turned last night, willing herself to sleep.

Despite having had not one, but two, orgasms in Sawyer’s arms, she’d gone to bed alone and feeling frustrated and out of sorts.