Raven (Gentlemen of the Order 2)

Finlay yanked open the door, the light in the corridor causing momentary blindness. “Leave. And get your foppish friends out of my box.”

The lord scurried past them in his shiny buckled shoes, his face as pale as his white stockings.

An unladylike growl left Sophia’s lips. “That devil needs horsewhipping.” She slammed the door closed, immersing them in darkness. “Oh! I forgot we were in the broom cupboard.”

Suddenly, it didn’t seem like a room for plates and brooms, but a private place where a couple might indulge their desires. A place for a passionate encounter. A place where a man might forget anything existed beyond these walls.

While Finlay’s eyes grew accustomed to the lack of light, his other senses sharpened. The alluring scent of violets teased his nostrils. But it was the natural scent of this woman that hardened his cock. She exhaled, the seductive sigh sending blood surging to his loins.

“I can’t seem to find the door handle,” she said, groping the air and then his arm.

Desire trickled through him like the finest claret—warm, intoxicating. He needed to delve into her mouth, part her soft thighs, feel her inner muscles hugging his cock so tightly he’d never feel alone again.

Throwing caution to the wind, he reached for the handle and turned the key in the lock. “Perhaps we should wait in here a while. Calm our tempers, lest we do something wild and reckless.”

The hitch in her breath said she had heard his veiled plea. “Recklessness is in the air, I fear. At times like these, one might speak with abandon. One might have an urge to live in the moment. Take risks.”

“Take what they desperately crave.”

“Yes,” she said. “To satisfy a curiosity.”

“Hmm. Then I’m curious to know if you feel as good as I imagine. I need you, Sophia. If only for tonight.” It would have to be enough. He could no longer ignore the hunger, no longer fight these forceful impulses. “I cannot leave this world, cannot leave this room without knowing your body. What harm can it do?” he said, echoing her reasoning.

Sophia closed the gap between them and came up on her tiptoes. She leant closer, squashing her breasts against his chest, feathering her lips lightly across his. “No harm at all.”

Chapter 11

During those moments when she fantasised about making love to Finlay Cole—and there were many—a cupboard in the English Opera House was not her preferred location. A giant bed with views over an exotic landscape was one such indulgence. A place too hot for clothes. A meadow of wildflowers or a luxurious bath filled with aromatic oils set a seductive scene.

And yet never had she felt a desire so compelling she could barely catch her breath. Never had her sex ached so intensely.

This would not be a slow, sensual joining of bodies and souls. He would not strip off his clothes so she might feel every carved contour, devour every inch of his bronzed skin. They would not explore those wicked positions she’d seen in erotic books. It would be quick, hard, wild—and she didn’t give a damn.

“You want to make love here, Finlay?” She ran her hands over his chest. Oh, touching him brought immeasurable pleasure.

“Need outweighs rationale.” The husky tone of his voice said he was unlikely to change his mind. “I’ve thought of little else all night. I know it’s not ideal. I know it’s reckless.”

“Finlay, I thought I’d never know your touch. I thought I’d spend my entire life wishing, wanting.” Starved. “I don’t care where we are as long as I feel close to you.”

He slipped his arm around her waist. His musky scent surrounded her, seeping through her skin to soothe, to tease, to tantalise. Her sex throbbed. Burned. Was it possible to reach one’s climax through anticipation alone?

He glanced around the dark room. “Perhaps I ask too much.”

He could ask for her heart, and she would rip it from her chest and place it into his outstretched hands.

“You think too much.” And so it was best to distract his mind and tend to the needs of his body. “Let me soothe away your doubts.”

She reached down between their bodies and stroked his solid manhood.

A pleasurable hum resonated in his throat before his mouth came crashing down on hers. They had passed the point of gentle nips and the chaste melding of mouths. They were too ravenous, too desperate, too needy. They had waited too long to show any restraint.

With wild abandon, Finlay thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. Tasting. Exploring.

That’s it, my love, don’t fight it, she whispered silently.

She met him with equal urgency, cupping his neck and tugging his hair as their tongues tangled together. Everything around her evaporated until there was nothing but their hot writhing bodies, nothing but their breathless pants filling the air.

His hands were everywhere, whipping her into a vortex of desire. He stroked her back, massaged her buttocks. Clothes were a hindrance, but knowing she couldn’t strip him naked heightened her arousal.