Sinfully Yours (Hellions of High Street 2)

“You sell your artistic creations,” she guessed. “And then use the money to restore your family estate?”

“A Herculean task, but yes. That is the idea.” A sigh. “There, you know yet another sordid secret about me,” he added.

“It appears that your horns and cloven hooves are just a clever disguise,” she said, watching the amber depths of his gaze turn a little more molten.

“Don’t deceive yourself,” said Devlin a little roughly. “I am no angel.”

Anna felt a sudden flutter inside her. Something akin to a winged creature breaking free from its cage. Her hands came out of his coat and entangled in his long hair.

“I—I don’t think that I am either.”

He held himself very still. “Are you sure?”

She hovered for an instant between Heaven and Hell.

And then took the plunge. “Yes. Very sure.”

Devlin needed no further urging. With a low groan, he kissed her, a hard, demanding embrace that made her body feel boneless.

Slumping back against the wall, she twined her fingers in his silky strands and opened her mouth fully, reveling in his textures, his taste. His heat.

A honeyed warmth seemed to melt through her limbs. No wonder she had more than once heard a fleeting phrase whispered in the ballrooms of Mayfair.

Sweeter than Sin.

“Sin.” The sound stirred deep in her throat.

Devlin framed her face between his palms and moved his lips to the corner of her mouth. “Some would say so, sweeting,” he murmured. “But in truth, Sin is not so easy to define. It can have a multitude of meanings.”

“A philosopher? Again you surprise me,” replied Anna, running the back of her knuckles along line of his jaw. “You had better be careful or your reputation as a dissolute wastrel will be ruined.”

“Ruined.” His husky laugh tickled against her flesh. “Ah, now that’s another word open to interpretation. But as someone skilled in the nuances of language, you know that.”

“I—I would rather not talk about l-language,” stammered Anna. Speech was becoming increasingly difficult as he tilted up her chin and trailed a flutter of gossamer kisses down her neck.

“I agree.” His tongue dipped into the hollow of her throat. “No words, just sensations.”

A shiver skittered down her spine.

Devlin must have sensed her reaction. He laughed again, his breath a little like a puff of smoke, redolent with a hint of flames and fire.

Impelled by a need she didn’t try to name, Anna caught the tails of his cravat. A tug and the knot came undone. Another pull sent the length of linen floating down to the floor.

Devlin responded by untying the tapes of her gown. She felt the fabric slip from her shoulders. A lick of cool air tickled down her arms as he slid off her sleeves, allowing the garment to bunch around her waist.

His fingers slipped around to her back, and she felt them graze the lacing of her corset. “You ladies really do make things difficult for us ruthless savages. Luckily, I’m used to working with my hands.”

The delicate knot yielded to his deft touch. A series of tiny tugs loosened the silken strings. Anna sucked in a breath as the lace and whalebone stays pulled away from her skin.

“That’s better,” murmured Devlin. “You’re beautiful,” he added, gazing at her bared breasts. “Just like the Botticelli painting of Venus.”

“N-no fluted clamshell,” she stammered as a blush painted her flesh pink. She knew she ought to feel embarrassed, but the look in his eyes stirred a very different sentiment.

“Even better,” he rasped, shifting his stance. “It would only crack under my weight.

His words trailed off as his mouth closed over her right nipple.

Anna nearly fainted—not from shock but from pleasure. The wet warmth sent a shiver spiraling through her body. Releasing a moan, she twined her fingers in his hair, reveling in the texture of the dark strands.