Scandalously Yours (Hellions of High Street 1)
“More than nice,” she gasped as the air slowly leached from her lungs.
“Ah. Does that mean if I do this”—her left was suddenly afire—“it would be twice as nice?”
“You do have a way with words,” she replied, arching into his touch.
“I’ve a good deal more to say on the subject,” he murmured, his voice growing a little ragged, as if he had imbibed a bottle of brandy in one gulp. “However, I think for now I shall keep it short and simple.”
No, no, no. She wanted it to go on forever.
“I love you, Olivia,” said John.
She met his gaze and in that instant, she knew it was true. His dark eyes were alight with molten fire.
Joy swelled inside her until she feared she might burst apart into a thousand little pieces.
“Have I rendered The Beacon speechless?”
“I’m not The Beacon with you,” she said. “No fancy rhetoric, no fiery monikers—I am just Olivia.
“Who is, my love, wondrous beyond words.”
Olivia let out a squeak, but only because he suddenly spun her around and thrust her up against one of the carved bookshelves lining the alcove.
“I don’t think—” she began.
“That’s right. Don’t think.” He nudged his knee between her legs. “Just feel.”
She gasped as John propped a booted foot on the acanthus leaf rail, lifting her off the parquet floor in a frothing of skirts. She was now sitting astride his thigh, with the heat of him pressing against her most feminine spot. His hard possessive kiss rocked her back. Her own eager response slid her forward.
Oh. Oh. Oh. The sensations pulsing through her body were unbearably wonderful.
He laughed, a low, rough-edged rumble redolent of smoke and shared secrets. A wicked gleam danced in his eyes.
Looking down, Olivia saw her skirts were now ruched up over her knees.
“We shouldn’t—we mustn’t—be doing this,” she protested feebly. “It’s against every rule of civilized behavior.”
“To the Devil with rules. From the very beginning there has been nothing remotely conventional about our relationship. Why change now?”
Why, indeed?
John’s kisses now seemed to be everywhere at once—on her jaw, on her throat, on the “V” of flesh dipping down between her breasts. “There is something to be said for giving in to primal urges from time to time.”
Hitching closer, she found the fastenings of his shirt and slipped her hand inside, her fingers slowly tickling through the course curls peppering his chest. She heard his breath catch in his throat and smiled. That she could bring such a look of desire to his face was as heady as drinking a goblet of the finest champagne.
Excitement bubbled through her blood.
He nipped her earlobe. “You make me want to cast caution and common sense to the wind. It’s…”
“Exquisitely exciting,” she murmured. “Enticingly erotic.” She paused for breath reveling in the male textures of his body. “But that may be because I’m not thinking very clearly.”
“Yes, I’m finding it hard to think, too. Especially when I am touching you here.” A rustle of silk. “And here.”
Olivia was finding it difficult too. Pleasure was pulsing through her veins, tingling over her skin, hazing her brain. “This,” she heard herself say, “is really very naughty of us.” Her lips found his again. “Your sister would be shocked if she knew.”
A whisper of mirth quivered against her mouth. “I have an inkling my sister knows exactly what is going on in here. And heartily approves. So…” A delicious warmth was now sliding up the inside of her thighs. “…Don’t stop what you are doing.”
“Oh, well, in that case…” Emboldened by the note of need in John’s voice, Olivia let her hands rove from the slabbed planes of his chest down over his ribs and around to the long, lean line of muscles surrounding his spine. She wanted to know every fiber and sinew, every subtle shape and contour of his beautiful body and how they responded to her.