How to Marry an Earl (A Cinderella Society 1)

Something in his voice alerted her. “Y-yes.”

“Good.”

He was kissing her practically before she saw him move. He pressed her back against the cabinet, lips slanting over hers. The case behind her rattled. She pulled back, horrified. “The artifacts!”

He chuckled against her mouth, even as his hands encircled her waist and lifted her up, taking her weight. She clamped her legs around his hips and his hands skimmed lower, clasping her bottom. His kiss deepened and it had her head swimming, especially when he stalked away from the delicate exhibits and pressed her to the wall behind the ferns. They were alone. Frantic, heated. Desperate.

She’d never felt like this before. The juxtaposition of the press of his warm body against hers and the hard wall behind her was intoxicating. She kissed him back hungrily. He yanked at the ties to her dressing gown until it fell open and then he pulled away, enough to lower his head and suck her nipple into his mouth. She moaned. “Shh,” he said, sucking harder, then swirling his tongue around the tight bud until she tingled. “Someone will hear you.”

She tried to bite back the sounds, squirming against him until he groaned. They taunted each other, teasing, competing to draw out needy keening sounds, husky gasps, something that sounded suspiciously like a purr.

He skimmed his thumbs under her nightdress and along her folds, while sucking at her collarbone. She wasn’t just on fire, she was drowning too. She ran her hands down his sculpted chest, warm muscles contracting at her touch. She followed the trail of hair, dipping under the waistband of his trousers. She managed to undo the placard and his hardness sprang into her hands. “We should find a bed.” His breath was ragged. “Before I take you against a wall.”

“Do it,” she whispered, biting his earlobe, marveling at her own demands. “Now.”

He pulled back, eyes blazing into hers. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he must have found it. He ran the tip of his cock along her heat, then pushed into her, slowly. With such agonizing, delicious slowness that she clutched at his shoulders, gasping. “Conall.”

He withdrew, pushed forward. Heat gathered in her belly; a tingling softness washed up her thighs. “Conall.”

Her orgasm built, like the tide flooding through her, waves pushing deeper and deeper inside her until they crashed the shore and she fell apart. As her cries intensified, he put his palm across her mouth, muffling her. The pleasure sharpened, threatened to pull her under. She went willingly.

When she bit into the pad of his thumb, he followed. He pulled out, careful not to leave her with child, but it was a mere second’s work and he still came as if she had found a sudden secret switch. She felt powerful, pleased, desperate for more of the way he groaned against her. His muscles tightened, shoulders rigid, and his head dropped against her neck. His breath was warm, sated.

He grinned, lips tickling her skin. “I begin to see why you love these exhibits so much.”