“Who is running? Certainly not me. Certainly not now.” She leaned up to kiss his chin covered in stubble. “I need you.”
So much.
He stripped off his coat and spread it on the ground. A moment later, Rosilee was lifted into his arms and laid on the duke’s coat. She inhaled a deep breath, almost a gasp but not quite, when his big frame hovered over her before his lips captured her again.
“I want to touch you everywhere.”
She smiled up at him. “So, then touch me everywhere.”
And then his hands were on her, moving with purpose—firm but reverent—as though mapping every inch of her body was something he had been waiting his entire life to do. His lips trailed kisses from her cheek down her neck, leaving a burning trail of awareness in its wake.
“This . . . You . . .” His breath whispered against her collarbone, and she shivered.
It was more than the sensation of his lips or his hands—it was the way he inhaled deeply against her skin, as if he wanted to memorize her scent, to imprint the moment into his very soul. He was drinking her in, savoring her like a man starved.
She wanted to devour him, too.
Rosilee’s fingers curled around the soft fabric of his cravat that bothered him so much. Her fingers tugged with a teasing slowness until it loosened. He lifted his head to meet her gaze, and she grinned at him as she yanked his cravat free, her breath catching at the sight of his exposed neck. She tossed the silk aside without a second thought, her hand hovering in the space between them, before she slowly trailed a finger down his neck, stopping at the base. She wanted to feel him—his warmth, his heartbeat, his heavy breath against her skin. But more than that, she wanted the man behind the cool and calm.
She wanted the beast he claimed to be.
His eyes darkened.
She lifted her chin until the tip of her nose grazed his skin and inhaled deeply. His soapy scent filled her lungs, absolutely intoxicating. “I love how you smell.”
“Rosilee,” he said following a low groan, his voice thick, his lips so close to her ear now that his breath tickled her skin, “you make me come undone.”
“I quite enjoy this coming undone of yours,” she whispered.
“Christ, I want to go slow, but I don’t know if I can.”
She arched into him. “You have all of me.”
Now have all of me.
His hands dragged her skirts up, his fingers leaving a trail of fire even as the cool air chased the trail. Rosilee arched her neck back, offering him more of herself as his mouth continued his siege, hot and relentless against her skin.
Nothing had ever felt this right before.
She barely registered her drawers vanishing, only gasping when his fingers began to slowly, seductively, rub against the silken, and supremely sensitive part of her body.
Her world exploded with sensation.
Her fingers burrowed into his shirt, tugging it free from his trousers to hunt for the smooth frame of his back. Her nails dug in deep. He let out a soft groan before slipping a finger inside her.
Heavens.
Rosilee breathed out his name, and his lips were there to catch it. But then, perhaps it was simply...
Fate.
Divine intervention.
Call it what you will, she was here for it all.
She almost cursed when his fingers left her, but soon, something else filled her, something bigger, something harder, and Rosilee cried out at the sensation. It was a feeling like no other. It stung, but that pain also brought with it the spellbinding pleasure ofoneness. The most physical, and intimate way two people could become one with each other.
“How does that feel?” he asked gruffly, his temple lowering softly against hers.
