The image of her sweet mouth wrapped around his rod nearly drove him beyond the brink. He shook his head, his hair tickling his shoulders.

“I would not last if you did.”

“Later, then,” she whispered, and pressed another kiss to the swollen head. He titled his head back, throat working.

Her hands ran up his body, from his groin to his abdomen to his chest, winding at last around his back. Her nipples dragged across his chest, her belly pressed against his erection.

“Touch me,” she groaned against his throat. He was more than happy to comply.

Starting at her hips, he indulged his fingers in the direction they wanted to travel, upward toward her breasts. His hands closed over the sweet, soft mounds, lightly flicking over their erect tips. She pressed against him, smiling as he touched her.

“Like that,” she whispered, rubbing her hips against his.

Something in his lust-filled brain snapped, and he stopped thinking. He acted.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he directed. Once she obeyed, he cupped her buttocks and lifted. Obligingly, she wrapped her thighs around his waist. He nearly wept when her slick mound made contact with his erection.

He moved backward and sat on the bed, leaving her straddling his lap. In this position, it was easy to lean forward and capture one of her beautiful nipples in his mouth.

She tangled her fingers in his hair as he sucked, his tongue flicking against the bud, his teeth grazing it. Her hips writhed against him, bathing his hardness in her sweet slickness. It would be so easy to slip inside her this way, to claim her as his. But he wanted to make this last.

He moved to her other breast as her hands roamed his body. He forgot all his bruises, forgot all the reasons why they should not be doing this. None of that mattered when her hands wrapped around him again, moving up and down in a rhythmic motion that drove him mad.

“Leah,” he whispered after releasing her nipple from his mouth with a soft pop, “I cannot last much longer if you persist in that.”

“I can’t last much longer either.” She seemed winded, her eyes dark and lips swollen. “Feel me, Avery. See what you do to me.”

She slipped from his lap and stretched full-length on the bed.

Could there be anything so beautiful on earth?

“Please touch me, Avery.” She’d fisted her hands into his sheets, and her breath was coming much quicker. “The way you’re looking at me is driving me crazy.”

“How am I looking at you?” He could not resist asking the question, though he could empathize with her desperation.

“Like you want to devour me.” Her breath came in gasps as her eyes darkened.

He did. He wanted to taste her. Kneeling between her legs, he parted her folds and lowered his head to her. The scent was intoxicating, sweet and musky and womanly. He could breathe her in forever, but if he did that, he’d never know her taste. And that was a pleasure he’d not forgo.

He licked the lower part of her folds and moved his way up as her hips writhed against him. When his lips closed around that swollen nub at the apex of her mound, she gave a mewling cry.

“There! Oh my God, right there, Avery.” The sheets twisted in her grip.

“As you wish,” he breathed against her hot, wet flesh, and then complied.

Twenty-Two

Avery seemed determined to coax her to heaven with his mouth alone. But she wanted much more than his mouth.

She got a portion of her wish when his finger slid inside her. Her muscles spasmed around it involuntarily, and she let out a long, low moan.

“Are you trying to drive me crazy?” she panted.

He gave her a wicked smile as he inserted another finger. “Perhaps.”

“Please, Avery,” she whispered as she pinched her own nipples, wishing he was close enough to kiss. “Don’t make me wait.”

She lifted her arms to him and he stretched full-length atop her. Their mouths and hands were suddenly everywhere. They rolled and tangled, tasting, touching, licking, and sucking. Leah wrapped her legs around his hips and bit his shoulder.

“Now,” she said, tangling her hands in his long hair. “I need you inside me.”

He lifted himself above her, a fine sheen of sweat coating them both in the candlelight. “Are you sure?”

She gripped him and guided him to her entrance. “Yes, Avery.”

They moaned together as he slid slowly, inexorably home. Leah’s eyes flew open as he began a rhythm that tapped the deepest places within her.

She dug her nails into his hips as he drove into her. His deep breaths, mingled with almost animalistic growls, filled her with a deep sense of pride, want, and something else she couldn’t name.

He looked down at her for a moment, then their mouths connected. Leah took his tongue into her mouth, sucking it in time with his thrusts. His hands cupped her ass, bringing her higher and tighter, forcing his thrusts deeper into her.

“Avery,” she gasped against his mouth.

He buried his head beside hers and continued the rhythm that would either make her come or kill her with desire, and at this point, Leah didn’t really care which. He’d made her feel like a goddess, and now his thick heat lay hard in her channel, so deep she thought he touched her womb.

He reached between them and pressed against her clit.

She bit back her scream as her world exploded. Her inner walls gripped him as she kissed him, hard, trying like hell to make the moment last forever.

This was her man.

This was the one she’d been sent to find.

* * *

His body felt light, almost as if he could float away with no cares at all.

He was still sheathed within her heat. She held him so tightly, arms and legs wrapped around him as if she’d never let him go.

He held her tightly, bracing himself on his forearms so as not to crush her. He never wanted to let her go either.

“As much as I hate to make you move, I think maybe you’d better.” Her voice was thick, slurred against his chest. She pressed a kiss there before he lifted free.

“My apologies,” he said, running a hand down her leg. She was softer than linen, warmer than summertime. And she’d shared herself with him.

Before he could voice any of this, she reached out and traced a particularly deep bruise on his ribs.

“I don’t want to kill the mood, but I need to know.” She looked into his eyes, concern threading her words. “How did you get all these bruises?”

He looked down at his hands, knuckles scarred and callused. She’d shared her all with him. Could he deny her similar intimate knowledge of his own life? He slammed his eyes shut. Even now, after what they’d shared, he could spare her the pain of association with him. If she loved the duke, she’d be safe.

“Before I tell you, I must know.” He gripped her hands fervently. “What are your feelings for the duke?”

Her jaw went slack, her eyes wide.

“I cannot believe those words just came out of your mouth!”

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, a flag of golden hair trailing behind her as she went.

“Well, I have a right to know,” he said, rising from the bed as he tried to tamp his anger. “Do you still intend to let him court you?”

She stilled, holding her petticoat in front of her like a shield. “You don’t really know me at all, Avery Russell.” She resumed her dressing, furious.

He had to stop her. He had to tell her. But would she spurn him?

In the end, it would not matter. He could no more have her than he could have the throne of England.

His words hurtled free like a bird escaping a cage. “I fight.”

Her movement ceased again. “What?”

“Pugilistic tournaments. Boxing, if you’d rather.” His palms were suddenly drenched with sweat. It was only when he tried to dry them on his breeches that he realized he was wearing none.

“But why?” She crossed to him, pressing her palm against his chest. “Don’t valets make enough money? Is it for kicks, like a hobby?”

He looked down into her wide blue eyes. Despite her bravado and knowledge of a world so foreign to him, she was really quite innocent of the harsh realities of his life.

“The medicine for my aunt,” he began, but a sharp rap on the door interrupted him.

Leah’s face lit with alarm.

“Behind the bureau,” he mouthed at her, motioning as he grabbed his breeches. “Quickly.”

She flew on silent feet, disappearing as a voice called out with another knock. “Russell?”

He lowered his brows as he opened the door. “Henrietta? Whatever are you doing here?”

She looked past him into the room, greedy eyes searching for something. “I was going to the kitchens for a light. Our fire had gone out.” She turned to him, a knowing smile on her face. “But I heard voices coming from somewheres over here. You wouldn’t know about that, would you, Russell?”

“You must be mistaken,” he said. “You know female maids are not allowed in this part of the house. Now please remove yourself from my chambers.”

Henrietta tried to push past him and enter his room, but he blocked her way with his body.

She delivered the killing blow with innocent aplomb. “I merely wished to greet my dear old friend Ramsey.”

His stomach sank, but he fought to keep his face neutral. “You are incorrect. Do not spread your lies further.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he shut the door in her face.

He fought the urge to slump against it. He must get Miss Ramsey away before Henrietta’s suspicions became convictions. Thomas Prachett was sure to have a spy hidden amongst the Granville House servants. With his ear pressed against the door, he sighed in relief as Henrietta’s footsteps disappeared down the hallway.