“I have this fantasy about you on a couch,” he breathed against her skin.
“There’s no couch here.”
“Let’s go inside.”
He pulled back slightly and searched her face. Phaedra knew if she agreed, she’d be agreeing to a lot more than merely entering his home. But this was what she wanted. To explore Deerhurst. Explore the connection she could not shake.
She said yes.
Phaedra laughed when he seized her wrist and dragged her to the house. Her heart pounded so hard she was afraid she might run out of breath.
The warmth of the house sent a delicious ripple down her spine. Dark and quiet, the only sound seemed to come from their hurried footsteps, impatient to find each other’s embrace again. He pulled her into his study and shut the door. A moment later she found herself pressed up against the door with his mouth claiming hers once more.
Phaedra almost sighed in relief.
“No other man will do for you,” he paused to breathe with utter confidence.
“Such arrogance.”
“You are here withme.” His heated gaze found hers. “There is no gentleman that can quench your thirst.”
Tiny prickles coated her skin as she held his gaze. She caught the thread of thought in the depth of his eyes. He was saying to her no other woman would do for him.He was here with her.No other woman could quench his thirst.
He was right about her too, and she told him so by kissing him back, her fingers finding their favorite spot in his hair, and she felt unspeakable satisfaction when he shuddered at her touch. If she could, she would crawl inside of him, his heart, his, mind, his soul, for he had surely crawled into hers.
His hands swept over her buttocks, and he pressed her up against the swell of his arousal. She gasped, her thoughts returning to that one little word—carnal. A moment later, she felt the sleeves of her chemise pull over her shoulders.
Oh, Lord.
Phaedra had expected desire to burn slowly and ignite into a burning passion. Not so. Desire came hard and swift. It stole the breath from her lungs, had her heart pounding in her ears, and sent all sorts of tingles down to the core of her womanhood.
He lifted her off the ground and carried her to the sofa, following her down as he gently, yet provocatively, lowered her to the couch without breaking their kiss.
She pushed at his white linen shirt, desperate to feel his flesh beneath her fingers. He drew back just enough to draw the shirt over his head, his gaze glowing with fire right before it dropped to her breasts.
Too much.
His gaze. His body. Phaedra didn’t know where to lock her attention. In the end, his body won. Hard muscles bunched as he moved to draw down the rest of her nightgown, practically yanked, her breasts spilling for him as he drew the dress off her shoulders even more.
Heaven save her.
Was he replicating the scene they’d witnessed in the drawing room? Phaedra found the very idea beyond erotic.
He lowered his head to stroke his tongue over her nipple. She had thought his stare heated, but that was nothing compared to the fire that seared through her blood at his touch.
She reached out to touch his shoulder, or to hold on, she wasn’t sure, and his flesh burned hot under her hands. The entire encounter reminded Phaedra of a turbulent volcano, ready to erupt any second, destroying everything in its vicinity.
He gathered the hem of her chemise and drew it past her knees, then farther up to expose her thighs.
“I need to touch you.”
She couldn’t get a word out but managed to nod. She needed him to touch her too. He tugged at the drawers she wore, and before she could blink, maneuvered them off her and tossed them aside. She gasped when his hand brushed her most private place.
“Tell me this is good,” he said hoarsely as his finger pressed inside of her.
“Yes. Oh, Lord, Marcus, yes.”
He kissed her jaw. “Touch me.”
