Baron of Blasphemy (Lords of Scandal 12)

Vanity gave a stiff nod, mussing his hair again. “I might need to borrow your carriage.”

Chapter Fourteen

Abigail watched as Chad climbed into the carriage, his face set in hard lines. “What’s happening?”

“I’m not entirely certain,” he answered, capturing her lips before he sat.

“Is he going to save Gabriella?”

“Yes,” Chad answered, settling not across from her but next to her, tucking her against his large frame.

“Is she going to come stay with us?” Abigail studied his profile as a gentle grin played at his lips.

“Would it worry you if she did?”

She huffed, not liking the way he’d just answered a question with another question. “It likely should.”

With a quick move, he pulled her into his lap. “Should it?”

She huffed, even as he started to kiss a trail down her neck. “Your questions are getting annoying.”

He grinned against her collarbone. “What will you do to me?”

“Is spanking out of the question?” She pushed off his chest to glare down at him, but instead, his eyes darkened in a way that made her whole body aware of every place she touched him.

“No. It isn’t.” He tightened his grip around her waist even as he leaned forward to take her lips with his. “And you shouldn’t worry about any other women. All I can think about is you.”

Satisfaction slithered down her spine. “I’m glad to hear it. I know the passion between us won’t always be so…”

“Who says?”

“You’re asking questions again,” she murmured, but he was kissing the sensitive spot behind her ear and she found her head tilting to give him better access. “But it’s my turn. Why do you usually tire of a woman?”

He stilled. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” He pressed his forehead to hers, looking into her eyes. “I wasn’t married to any of them.”

She shrugged then. Those weren’t the words she’d hoped to hear. “Lots of men who are married have roving eyes.”

He frowned then, his gaze still locked with hers. “I bet those wives don’t smell as good as you.”

She shook her head. “My smell?”

“When we get home, we’re going straight upstairs. If we even make it to the bed chamber.”

Her body throbbed at the suggestion, but she attempted to clear her head. “Honestly. My smell is the reason you’ll be faithful?”

He made a sound, deep in his throat. So masculine, she forgot to breathe. “Your taste too. The pink of your nipples, the feel of your skin. No woman has ever driven me this mad. I—”

Now that was pleasing. She kissed him this time, sliding her tongue against his lips.

She’d yet to take the lead like this, but it seemed to drive him to the brink of lust. His hands were all over her back, his tongue meeting hers thrust for thrust.

He slid his palm up her neck and she heard her pins scatter to the floor as he thrust his hand in her hair. “And your damn hair,” he gritted out against her lips. “I dream

about it at night.”