him.
When she opened her mouth, he let his instincts take control. A kiss was just what he needed, but it served the purpose of hiding her face from view.
Their lips touched and he almost lost his mind. He’d been dreaming of that warm, soft mouth since he’d kissed it before. Her pink lips moistened, her mouth open—it had been too much.
The tang of cheap wine nudged his taste buds and then was gone, replaced by her heat and her special flavor. He wanted to sample every part of her. The delicate skin at the back of her knees would taste different than her navel. He badly wanted to claim the sweet, dark heart of her for himself.
His cock rose to her command, even though she would not know it. He’d had the forethought to sit next to her and not haul her into his lap, as he longed to do.
Most of the doxies were thus occupied, even the two fawning over his quarry sitting on the other side of the fire.
Hell and damnation, what was he thinking? He wasn’t here to kiss a woman, however tempting she happened to be, but to watch the man he’d been following all night. Although he hadn’t planned to enter the house, but wait until the man emerged, when Lady Claudia entered he’d followed her in. Spies and traitors came in both sexes.
He couldn’t believe Claudia was a traitor. For one thing, she belonged to a family adamantly and publicly opposed to the Cause. For another, she wasn’t. He didn’t believe it.
Her lips tasted sweet, of wine and raspberries, or some sharp fruit. Delicious, but leaving him wanting more. With an effort of will he pulled away, but not too far. “What the hell are you doing here?” he murmured next to her mouth. Lovers’ talk of a very different nature, but he kept smiling.
“I could ask you the same thing,” she mumbled breathlessly.
He’d done that to her, made her bosom heave and the heat rise to her face. The notion made him absurdly proud. “I am on business.”
She pulled away sharply, almost tumbling off the end of the short bench they sat on. Automatically he reached out and pulled her back, keeping hold of her arm. When she tried to shake it off, he kept hold. He was hard-put not to bruise her because she made a concerted effort to get away.
“Sir, can I ’elp you?”
The bawd stood over them, glaring at him.
“We’re quite all right, madam.” He narrowed his eyes, assessing her. Yes, she knew who Claudia was. Didn’t the girl have any sense of self-preservation? The madam had extortion material for the rest of the season, if not longer. “I’ve come to retrieve her. I’m her…betrothed.”
“I see. Well, call if you want anything.”
He had to get Claudia out of this room before someone recognized her. He’d been so close, too. His plan thrown completely awry, he accepted he’d have to wait until another night to trap the man. Damn the woman.
Yet he couldn’t blame Claudia as wholeheartedly as he perhaps should. She’d created a pile of trouble he’d have difficulty recovering from. It would take time he didn’t want to spend on the problem. When he’d tracked the Pretender down, he hadn’t quite believed his luck until he realized the damned man had the intention of flaunting himself over half London. If he’d stood in front of Kensington Palace waving his arms and yelling, “Arrest me!” he could hardly have been more obvious.
When Claudia tried to speak he kissed her again and then stood, dragging her to her feet. “Come with me, sweeting. We’ll find somewhere a little more private.” He flashed her a message with his eyes, opening them wide and then shaking his head slightly.
She looked a little stunned, but put her hand in his and let him draw her to her feet. He glanced at the table and took her wineglass too.
Madam Finch showed them the way to the stairs. “Any door that’s open upstairs, sir.” She nodded when he handed her a few gold coins. She bit every one before she handed him a candlestick and allowed them to climb the rickety flight of stairs.
Every tread was an adventure, wobbling underfoot or uneven enough to throw a man off his balance. He trod carefully, memorizing the characteristics of each stair. Very few failed to make some kind of sound.
Upstairs, three doors out of the five were wide open. He kept going until he reached the one at the end, away from the two closed ones. He put the candlestick and wine glass on the table set just inside.
The door slammed behind him, probably the result of the worn nature of the timbers making it tilt. She jumped and then stumbled, and he was forced to catch her before she fell. Not that it was a hardship. Warm and ripe, she filled his arms beautifully and he would have had to be made of stone not to kiss her.
Part of him did feel as if it were made of stone. His low groan vibrated against her impossibly soft skin, and she opened her lips on a sigh.
Taking advantage, he tasted her, but took care, afraid she would pull away if he thrust his tongue deep, as he wanted to do. Instead, he touched her lips gently. Exaltation surged through him when she responded by opening her mouth wider. He slid the tip of his tongue along her teeth, and then deeper, caressing her tongue with his. He held her as tightly as possible, but not tightly enough. His instincts drove him to grind his erection against her warm body, but he couldn’t get close enough. Yards and yards of fabric were sandwiched between them, cushioning his reaction to her.
She’d granted him access to her mouth. He shouldn’t be so greedy. Avid possession swept through him. A primitive rhythm began deep inside him, a beat as old as time, his pulse drumming in his ears and around his body. Tearing at the strings of her mask, he got it off her and tossed it aside. She didn’t protest, and he didn’t stop kissing her.
He delved deep, working hard to keep his kiss within civilized levels. When she leaned into him, as if trusting him to hold her steady, he lost his mind.
This woman would be the death of him. How he could react so strongly beat his understanding, but he did, and he responded to the lust roaring through him.
Supporting the back of her head with his hand, he feasted.
He lifted his mouth to adjust their position and seal their mouths together more securely. She spluttered a word against his mouth, but he was too far into this to stop now. With one hand around her waist cinching her tightly he held her, directed her as he wanted her.
She went limp and moaned against his mouth. He kissed her mouth, her cheeks, and then down her neck. All the places he’d wondered about. He wanted the rest, but a soupçon of sense remained, nagging at the back of his mind. He dismissed it because he wanted one more thing, just one, with a desperation he couldn’t control.
He touched the upper slopes of her breast, grazed his fingertips along the wonderfully silky, soft skin. Her delicate shiver gave him tacit permission to carry on. Only a few seconds to ease her breast from the deep décolletage of her gown, and then it was in his hand.
“Beautiful,” he said, his voice barely above a breath.
Her nipple crinkled and the tip grew more prominent, changing from its original rose pink to a duskier shade. He wanted to taste it more than he wanted to take another breath. He sucked it into his mouth. Claudia followed her choked-off cry with pressure on the back of his head as she pressed him closer. She smelled of sweet, hot femininity, her delicate taste a compliment to her lovely skin.
Letting her nipple go, he closed his eyes, breathing deeply.
“You are bad for my self-control, my lady,” he murmured, his lips touching her skin with every word. “We cannot continue, or I will take you further than either of us wish to go.”
“What you’re doing… It feels so good.”
Her soft, dreamy tones gave him a jolt, and brought him back to reality.
Tugging at his head, she murmured, “There’s a bed over there.”
That brought him right back