Marquess of Menace (Lords of Scandal 10)

He chuckled against her lips even as his thumb flicked over her nipple, causing it to pucker against the chemise she wore under her dress.

She wished there could be less clothing between them. She wanted to feel his hands on her skin.

He slid his hand further down to her waist and then over her hip, trailing down the length of her leg until he reached her ank

le.

He circled the slender part of her leg, giving a light squeeze before he skimmed his hand under her skirts and up her leg.

She gasped, the touch light and easy but somehow wreaking havoc with her senses. The higher he climbed the more desperate she became for…more.

“I haven’t been the purest man,” he whispered, trailing kisses behind her ear. “Like I said, I haven’t made the best choices. But there are some advantages to all that experience, and I intend to share one of those with you right now.”

“Yes,” she gasped, so ready, she felt as though…she might come undone if he didn’t touch her more.

And then his fingers reached her apex and he parted the fabric of her pantaloons giving her curls the lightest brush with his fingertips.

She jolted in sensation. How could something so small as that touch create such a strong reaction? A riot of feeling coursed through her body. She’d like to ask him, but he’d begun kissing her again, murmuring against her lips.

Then he slanted her mouth against hers, his tongue tangling with hers even as he touched her with more presser against her most intimate flesh.

She nearly broke apart and cried out, the intensity of the sensation taking her breath away.

“That’s it, love,” he crooned, starting a light rhythm that had her gripping his shoulders for support.

She wanted to cry out, she wanted to beg for more, she wanted…

But she lost the thought because suddenly her body spasmed, the intense pleasure shattering.

He smiled against her lips. “You are so beautiful, Eliza.”

Her breath caught as she continued to hold onto him. She realized his other arm had wrapped tightly around her back, securing her weight. She was cradled against him, supported. She’d given herself over to him entirely and he’d made her sing with pleasure. “That was…”

He shook his head as he kissed her lips again. “I understand.”

She blinked, realizing the carriage had come to a stop. “Where are we?”

“My home.” He wrapped on the front of the carriage. “I need to return to Devonhall’s,” he called out.

The carriage started again.

Eliza huffed out a breath but didn’t bother to sit up. She’d never been more comfortable. “But don’t I get to see my future home?”

He cocked a brow. “Home? Aren’t you going off on your adventures?”

There was something in his voice, the way it sounded. Hurt? She thought about going to America. That suddenly didn’t seem half as interesting as staying right here. In England. London. This carriage. His arms. “And leave you and Bash to solve this mystery on your own? I don’t think so.”

But suddenly all the topics she’d wished to discuss came flooding back. What would their marriage be like? How did he feel about her? A sick knot formed in her stomach. She’d wished she asked these questions before he’d touched her because now…she felt raw and vulnerable in his arms and she hated that feeling. It reminded her of how she’d been when her father had left.

She didn’t wish to be that person.

Not ever again.

Dylan sensed a shift in her. Not long ago, Eliza had been like pudding in his hands. Now, he felt her stiffen.

She didn’t like to be left out of anything.

“I would never dare solve it without you,” he answered against her temple. “I simply thought that going to America was your plan.” His eyes closed as she relaxed again. Not as fully but he was glad she’d stayed in his arms.