Duke of Decadence (Lords of Scandal 9)

She squeezed his biceps. “What?”

“Isabella.” He looked down at her, giving her a gentle smile. “I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you and you were dressed as a man. It was…awkward.”

She laughed then. “You love me?”

“Very much,” he said, then began to unbutton her gown. “As to your items: We marry tomorrow. I’m having your uncle followed so that we might catch him in the act, and the smartest man I know, the Earl of Goldthwaite, is investigating our mystery man.”

“Oh. That is very efficient,” she said as she allowed him to take off her dress, the fabric sliding to the floor.

“Now,” he rumbled low and deep. “I am going to make love to you. And I’m not going to worry about keeping my distance because it was never really possible, was it?”

“No.” She blushed, heat infusing her cheeks. “But I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

“About the marriage, the plan, or making love?”

“All of them,” she replied and then she stepped back, loosening her braid and allowing the locks to fall about her shoulders.

“You’re all right with sharing my bed before marriage?” He pulled her close again, beginning to work on the strings of her corset.

“I offered to be your mistress,” she replied as the garment fell away. “I trusted you from the first.”

He yanked his shirt over his head and then pulled her close again.

Isabella ran her hands from his shoulders to his torso, exploring every line and dip of muscle on his exposed skin. “I love the way your skin feels,” she said as her hands slid over his flesh again.

In answer, he gathered her chemise and pulled the fabric up over her head. He cupped her cheeks, kissing her again, but soon his hands slid down her neck, to her chest, where he cupped a breast in each hand.

Sensation rocked through her as her nipples puckered under his touch. Her neck tipped back, and she arched into the touch.

But he kept moving his hands down and when he reached her waist, he untied her pantaloons and the silky fabric grazed down her thighs, pooling at her knees.

He gave her a naughty grin before he bent down to pull them the rest of the way down, kissing her belly as he did.

A pulsing need throbbed between her legs, which only intensified as his lips slid lower.

“Bash?” she asked as his fingers brushed through the curls at her apex.

Rather than answer, he dipped his fingers lower, sliding them along her most sensitive flesh, skimming her lower lips.

She let out a gasping moan, her body shivering at the sensation that ricocheted through her.

He stroked her again even as her fingers dug into his hair. But he wasn’t done. He dipped his head lower and his tongue repeated the path his fingers had just traversed.

She gasped, pulling at his hair as he repeated the touch.

“Bash,” she begged as his tongue began to move in a rhythm even as his finger slid further back, entering her channel.

Her eyes blurred and her legs shook as he relentlessly moved faster.

Her legs could barely hold her as his other arm wrapped just below her derriere, partially supporting her weight. Tension was building inside her as she pulled at his hair again, crying out his name.

And then she broke, pleasure shattering her insides.

She’d barely recovered when he stood and lifted her into his arms, crossing to his bed. He laid her down and tugged at his breeches, only getting them as far down as his knees when he was climbing up her body.

She felt like pudding, her muscles so relaxed they hardly wanted to work, but still she had to giggle. “Your boots are still on.”

He let out a growl, that started a hum of need inside her again. “I don’t have time to take them off.”