A Most Sinful Proposal (The Husband Hunters Club 2)

He took a step, caught her in his arms, and drew her clumsily against him. Her skirts caught in the long grass and she fell forward. He caught her, losing his own balance, and sat down hard on the ground, narrowly missing some scattered pieces of Montfitchet Castle. Marissa sprawled in his lap.

He gave a gasp of laughter. “Not quite with my old finesse,” he said, his heart thumping. But at least she was where he wanted her.

However it seemed she wasn’t where she wanted to be. Marissa climbed awkwardly to her knees, tugging her skirts out of the way, straddling his thighs and kneeling above him. She touched his cheek, the gentlest of touches. Her hat was crooked, barely attached to her hair, and he reached up and removed it, bowling it through the long grass. Heavy strands of her hair, dark as midnight, tumbled down.

“Marissa,” he said, “may I kiss you?”

Her dark eyes were serious. “Yes, Valentine. You may.”

He leaned forward. Nothing mattered but the here and now, and any control he’d imagined he still had was shattered to bits as he took the warm soft wonder of her mouth with his.

Chapter 8

He was kissing her. Marissa was aware of how soft his lips were and yet how firm, as they moved over hers. He seemed to know what he was doing and she wound her arms around his neck. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, her fingers tugged at the wiry curls of hair that grew at his nape. He bent his head and began to press his open mouth to her throat, making her hot and trembly, and when her head fell back helplessly, he kissed the scant bit of bare flesh that showed above her bodice.

Pleasure brought goose bumps to her skin, and when he rested one hand in the hollow of her waist she was certain she could feel his touch burning like a hot coal through her clothing. His other hand was gathering up her tangled locks of hair and when he buried his face in the heavy mass, groaning with pleasure, she felt a tremor of passion ripple through her.

He lifted his head slightly, and she saw that his eyes were closed. She bent to kiss his eyelids, and then his lips, feeling his breath mingling with hers. It was like a dream, except it was too vividly real to be part of a dream. Mari

ssa felt as if she was taking her first steps in some unexplored Amazonian jungle, a place no one had ever been before, and she was full of trepidation and excitement, but she had no intention of stopping or turning back.

Now he was kissing her more deeply, his arms tightening their grip about her body. She made a sound but it wasn’t a protest, and then she was pressing closer to him, too. She couldn’t seem to get enough of him. Her hands slid over his shoulder blades, down to the moving muscles of his back. Her nails were long enough to scrape gently against his skin, and he gasped, nuzzling against her throat.

He lifted his head and looked at her, his eyes so brilliant she felt like blinking.

“I want…” he began, but then couldn’t seem to finish it.

“What do you want?” she said shakily.

He reached up and rested his fingers on the tiny pearl buttons that ran down the front of her bodice, holding it modestly in place. Marissa could feel a tingle in her breasts; they felt almost painful. She nodded her head jerkily, eagerly, and watched, holding her breath, as he began to unfasten the tiny buttons, one by one.

Her tight corset cut in under her bosom and had the effect of pushing her breasts up, while her chemise covered her to the neckline of her riding jacket. Once he had opened her bodice to the waist, he slid his fingers under one of the chemise straps and tugged it down over her shoulder. The swell of her breast was exposed to his gaze, her nipple peaking dark red and swollen. He took his time looking while she waited, hardly able to bear it. And then he stroked his finger over her, down, down, brushing over her hard nipple, and back again.

Marissa jumped at the contact on such a sensitive point, but she made no move to stop him. He smiled, and swooping forward, took her in his mouth.

She cried out. She couldn’t help it. The hot wetness of his tongue and his mouth against her aching breast was pleasure almost beyond bearing. She cupped his head in her hands, unconsciously holding him to her.

Perhaps you should stop him now, said a voice in her head. But the voice was faint, and easily ignored.

He was exploring her other breast, and giving it the same treatment. The ache in her breasts was intense, but so was the throbbing between her legs. And it was worse because although she knew a little of what it meant to have connection with a man, she didn’t know the full details. Or perhaps it was just as well she didn’t know, because then she might throw him back on the ground and put her knowledge into practice.

She squirmed on his lap, trying to relieve the need growing inside her, and felt him hard against her stockinged thigh, like a rod of iron. Was this the bulge she’d seen in his breeches earlier? Surprised, curious, she reached down beneath the folds of her skirts and closed her hand about him.

He jerked like a man shot and she felt the rod in her hand twitch. She tightened her grip and he caught his breath, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. He reached down, fumbling his way through her skirts, and covered her hand with his.

“Valentine?” she whispered, confused, afraid she’d done something wrong.

He seemed to recognize her emotions. “Your hand on me makes me feel good,” he said bluntly. “Too good.”

She wasn’t certain what he meant, but she understood enough. She loosened her grip but did not let go entirely.

“May I touch you there, Valentine?” she said seriously.

He gave a shaken laugh. “Not right now, Marissa. But I am going to touch you, because I think you want me to, don’t you?”

“I—”

“I promise if you don’t like it then I’ll stop.”