“Raven?”
Dragging her gaze away, she glanced up at Kell. A cool smile played around his impossibly sensual mouth; he knew quite well how appealing she found his stark masculinity.
“Now my breeches.”
Her cheeks flushing at his knowing look, she took a deep breath and unbuttoned first the straining placket on his breeches, then his drawers. His rampant member sprang free, brushing her fingers. He was fully aroused, his erection as hard as marble.
Raven drew back as if she’d been burned. Merely touching him felt like playing with fire. Yet she wasn’t nearly as bold as he thought her. It was one thing to make love to a fantasy image, quite another to take the initiative with this beautiful, vital man.
She glanced up at him, hoping that her racing heart wasn’t obvious. “You are laboring under a misapprehension if you think I know how to pleasure you. I don’t have your prowess or experience.”
To her surprise, Kell didn’t pressure her. Instead he moved over to his desk and pulled out the chair, then settled in it.
“Come here, then.” He held out his right arm, indicating that she should sit on his lap. His blatantly rigid manhood jutted out from the opening in his breeches, beckoning as well.
His brazen arousal held her fascinated gaze as she crossed to him. But then she remembered his bullet wound and hesitated, eyeing his left leg. “Has your thigh healed?”
“Enough to allow me to perform, at least if I am careful.”
She sat gingerly on his right side, feeling the hard, lean muscles of his thigh flex beneath the tight-fitting satin breeches.
His arms encircled her loosely as he settled her more securely on his lap. His eyes had taken on a slumberous look, his black-velvet lashes hooding the dark intensity.
“With my body I thee worship,” he murmured, repeating a line from their marriage vows. “Do you intend to properly worship me, wife?”
Not answering, Raven held herself stiffly, despite the heat rising up in her at his suggestive words. She continued to remain immobile when he reached around her, his fingers expertly unfastening the hooks of her gown.
“Relax,” he said, evidently feeling her tension. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
Yet she couldn’t relax. His alien hardness was a hot brand against her thigh, and she could only think of what was to come, how it would feel to have that swollen length thrusting inside her, filling her…
He leaned forward and, with his tongue, touched the rapidly beating pulse in her throat. “Draw down your bodice for me.”
The heat of even that brief caress flared through her, setting fire to every nerve. After a short hesitation, she lowered the neckline of her blue velvet gown, leaving her bosom still covered by her chemise. When she looked down, she could see the rosy outline of her peaked nipples.
Bending, he kissed one through the thin fabric, his tongue finding the tip, drawing it against his teeth.
Raven shivered.
“Your shift, too. I want to see all of you.”
When she had difficulty freeing her arms, he aided her, unfastening the buttons at her back, then drawing off the sleeves and pulling down her garments till she was bare from the waist up. Everywhere his fingers touche
d, her skin seemed to burn.
His gaze was almost leisurely, appreciative and very male as he surveyed her naked flesh. “I keep forgetting how beautiful you are,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Your breasts are more lush than I anticipated, given your slenderness.”
Raven shifted restlessly in his lap, her breasts tingling for want of his caresses.
His gaze focused on her taut nipples, his eyes glittering with a heat that had nothing to do with his earlier anger. “Your nipples are hard and I haven’t even suckled them yet… Do you want me to suckle them?” He touched the sensitive tip teasingly with his mouth.
Raven closed her eyes, unable to deny her need. “Yes…” she breathed.
“Then offer your nipples up for me,” he ordered, his voice as smooth as velvet.
Her eyes flew open. Kell was watching her, challenge in his dark eyes. He was perfectly serious, Raven realized. He was demanding she act the wanton. But if he meant to intimidate her, he would not succeed.
“You aren’t very accommodating for a mistress,” he said, his voice a silken taunt. “Didn’t that journal of yours teach you anything?”