A Rake's Midnight Kiss (Sons of Sin 2)

He wouldn’t last. He knew he wouldn’t. The threat of leaving her unsatisfied beat like a curse. But he couldn’t stop. Then as blackness smashed against the back of his eyes, she gave a sharp cry and convulsed.

He braced every muscle against his deepest instincts and prepared to pull out. Through the thunder in his head and the agony in his balls, he knew that he couldn’t risk a child as he had so recklessly last night. He straightened his arms to rigidity and inhaled roughly, swearing he wouldn’t lose himself, he wouldn’t lose himself.

She tilted her head back and opened her eyes, staring at him with such joy that his heart cramped. She clenched around him in a burst of heat, fingers clawing at his shoulders, bare breasts straining above her bodice. Her lips parted, revealing small white teeth and the mysterious interior of her mouth.

Her generosity sliced through his scruples like a knife through butter. He groaned in self-loathing, then again in endless satisfaction as he ceded the battle and flooded her with his essence.

He rolled onto his back, still inside her. With a sigh of repletion, he encircled her with his arms. Briefly he basked in the illusion that nothing could part them. Her breasts flattened into his chest and her hair flowed around him like tangled silk. Sunbeams through the rafters highlighted the rich color. She was a golden girl, gold to the bone. More precious than the tawdry jewel that had lured him here. She felt as fragile and graceful as a reed, as strong and brave as a lioness.

He closed his eyes and waited for his heart’s headlong gallop to slow. Making love to Genevieve was an all-encompassing experience. She left no atom of body or soul untouched.

She stirred, disturbing his blissful doze. He firmed his grip. He didn’t want her to move. He didn’t want her to talk. Not when she was sure to remind him of the barriers separating them, rather than how sweet it was to lie together. He held the woman he loved while the unknowing world went on its way, unaware that this loft encompassed paradise.

The unknowing world…

What was he doing? He ought to be bloody horsewhipped.

“Sweetheart, wake up,” he hissed, shifting to his side. He missed the connection the instant it was broken.

“What?” she asked huskily, brushing her hair away from her face with a sensual gesture that made the rake inside him want to tumble her back into the hay. “What is it?”

“We’re in your father’s barn,” he whispered urgently.

“I know we are.” She frowned as though questioning his sanity.

“What if someone comes in? Or heard us?” A horrible presentiment struck him. “Where the hell is Williams?”

She rose on one elbow to study him. Her faint smile hinted that she discovered more of his secrets than he wanted her to. He’d also rather she pulled her bodice into place. Otherwise she risked another swiving, Williams or no Williams.

“He’s teaching George to ride,” she said calmly. “They’ll be outside at least until noon.”

That meant nothing to Richard. He’d woken, he’d seen Genevieve, and he’d lunged. He had no idea what time it was. Struggling to his feet, he closed his trousers with all the aplomb of a schoolboy.

Genevieve, what a wreck you make of this particular rake. And you don’t even know the power you wield.

Although another glance at her expression indicated that if she didn’t know yet, she would soon. The glint in her eyes looked discomfitingly like mockery. As if she found his flutterings and fussings deeply amusing. “Worried about your reputation, Sir Richard?”

“I’m worried about yours, my girl,” he snapped. He prowled across to the crumpled black rag that had once been his coat. His valet would have a fit if he saw what became of the exquisite tailoring.

&n

bsp; Richard picked up the coat and shrugged it across his shoulders, knowing he must look like a beggar. He tugged his watch from his pocket. Relief weakened his knees. It was only half past ten.

“How sweet,” she said softly.

“Sweet?” Growling, he swung toward her.

She sat up and, luckily for his self-control, restored her bodice. He told his stirring cock that under no circumstances would he tumble her again. Not when he risked an almighty scandal.

She still watched him with that quizzical expression that made him want to smash something. “Yes, sweet.”

He stalked across to her, hands opening and closing at his sides. “I’m many things, madam. Never sweet.”

“Stop scowling and kiss me.” She caught one painfully tight fist.

Bewildered he stared down, even as his tension ebbed. He didn’t understand what was happening, but one thing was clear—she didn’t hate him anymore. “You’re not angry.”

Her lips twisted. “I’m not sure I’d go that far.”