“She wants Exeter.” A hint of cat whispered in her throat.

He pressed his mouth against her temple. “Good God, Mia, not here.”

Mia pushed away. “Then help me undress, for she is coming.”

Exeter quickly weighed his options. Bring her to climax or chance letting the panther loose to roam the catacombs. Both were inopportune choices, but one was also unthinkable. There were hundreds of miles of tunnel—layer upon layer of ancient limestone mine. If the cat emerged and darted off she could easily get lost. He might never find her again.

He backed her into a wall of crumbling rock, and held up his index finger. The tip sparkled with warm light. “A bit of potent energy—set on pulse.”

Chapter Twelve

“WHAT DO YOU PLAN TO DO WITH THAT FINGER?” Mia snarled as he pulled off her trousers and yanked down her pantalettes, She was so close . . . so close. She might shift any second. But she didn’t—instead, she let him tear at the lace edge of her camisole.

He plunged into her labia and she jumped from the sensation. His finger was warm, almost hot, and the tip vibrated against the place he called clitoris. She arched away from the wall as her eyes rolled back in her head. The sensation was so intense, she thought she might climax on the spot.

“Open to me—wider.” The panther’s tamer used his finger like a whip and chair. He roughly parted folds, exposing more of her to pleasure. Whimpers deepened into moans as her stomach fluttered with arousal. “Exeter,” she gasped, pushing against the finger that hummed and flicked, coaxing her raw need to the very edge. He reached under her camisole, rolling a nipple between his thumb and index finger.

Dropping to his knees, he hooked her leg over his shoulder. “Bloody gorgeous clitoris,” he groaned, and buried his face in her. She was completely exposed from the waist down—deliciously naked and vulnerable—and completely open to him. “Exactly the way I want you, Mia.” She rocked with each stroke of his tongue, urging him on as he licked his way around her swollen spot using that wickedly skillful, tormenting finger of his.

This was only their fourth intimacy—was she counting? Yes, she was. It was if he already knew the secrets of her pleasure. How to make her whimper and beg for more—grind into him like a wanton shameless hussy. He reached behind and cupped her buttocks, pressing her into his mouth as he flicked his tongue and sucked her throbbing clitoris.

On the verge of climax, he rolled back on his haunches. He was teasing her—leaving her pleading for one more stroke—the one that would send her over the edge. “Please, Exeter,” she begged. He shook his head, breathing hard. His beautiful eyes, slightly glazed—his mouth and chin wet from her arousal. She had done that to him.

“Lift your camisole above your breasts.” She did as she was told, as he angled the torchlight against a large rock—his lips moved from her glistening thighs and lingered on the hollow, trembling curve of her belly. He moved his hands higher, over her ribs to the peaks of each mound—he rubbed softly at first, and then harder—tweaking both nipples into hard points.

He rose to her chest and swirled a nipple into his mouth—he nipped and she cried out. The fingers of one hand raked through her hair—pressing her head back so he could kiss . . . the tip of her nose. “You are near paroxysm, Mia, and I will watch your pleasure.” Two fingers massaged a nipple, while his other hand—the one with the devilish, vibrating index finger—delved between her legs. He kept the magic finger on her clitoris, while two fingers stroked the length of her—toying at her entrance. Her virginity was still very much intact. He had not entered her yet, but she wanted him to.

“Look at me.” His whispered.

Her eyes locked with his golden green gaze. Eyes that had turned into burning embers. Her arousal was climbing in force, pounding through her, pooling in her womb. God, how she loved him for this—not just because he gave her such astounding pleasure, but because he risked relieving her here—in the middle of the catacombs.

“Exeter—Mia, are you down there?” Jersey’s voice filtered down from above.

His finger did not stop, but continued to pulse. “There’s another tunnel, lower down,” Exeter called up. Then he leaned close to her ear. “Come for me, Mia.”

Aroused to the point of climax, she drew in gulps of air as quietly as possible. “We’ve found a tunnel—be right there.”

There was a silence. “Is everything all right?”

“Answer him.” Exeter insisted, as his finger insisted she climax. With each stroke, the cat readied to make her leap—unless she held the great cat back. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, and tossed her head back. “We’re fine—I just want to get a bit closer.”

She glimpsed a hint of a grin on Exeter. “You couldn’t get any closer.”

“You wretched man—you’re enjoying this.” She thought about his penis as she crashed over the edge of her pleasure—the great length and width of him—the arousing fantasy of him inside her. As sheer bliss consumed her, she bit into the fabric of his coat to muffle a cry.

“You think you’re the only one this is hard on?” His words rushed past her ear, causing a second shudder. She reached down and found a rock-hard shaft straining at his trousers—proof of his discomfort. “Obviously not.” She stroked him lightly as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“You’re sure you don’t need me down there?” Jersey called again.

Exeter shoved her hand away and pushed back. He was a most inscrutable character, often hard to read, but tonight his breath was harsh, and he wore a look on his face that spoke of agony and ecstasy. If she could put words to his expression it would be “what did I ever do to deserve such torment?”

He helped her back into pantalettes and trousers. “Button yourself.” Exeter removed a pocket square from his coat and wiped his face. Stepping away, he brushed against the torchlight and it fell off the rock, illuminating something they’d missed—a good-sized hole in the wall of the pit. Mia could make out less and less in the dark as her panther vision faded—still, she sensed something at the far end of the passage. Their own shadows, perhaps?

“Exeter,” she whispered, nodding to the newly exposed hole in the ground. “There’s something moving beyond the end of this shaft.”

Jersey landed between them, with a thud. She was quite sure he paid particular attention to her. “Before I venture into that hole in the ground, please assure me the cat is sated.”

“For the time being,” she murmured, grateful for the cover of darkness, as a flush of color swept over her cheeks.

Exeter frowned. “How long were you up there?”

Jersey almost never smiled, and rarely laughed. But he released a dry, throaty scoff. “Since bloody gorgeous clit—”

“Never mind.” Exeter swept the flashlight off the ground. “Why don’t you fire up that sword and forge the way?”

They entered the hole in the ground single file, on hands and knees. At one point, the ceiling lowered, forcing them to crawl on their bellies. Mia balked, as a sudden sensation of panic nearly overwhelmed her. She tried to reverse gears and run—only she backed straight into Exeter, who sensed her alarm. “Your hysteria is temporary—you’re experiencing a bit of claustrophobia. Take slow breaths—rapid shallow breathing causes your heart to race. Slow down and push on, Mia.”

Mia managed to squeeze a look back at Exeter. He rubbed her leg. You’re doing fine.”

She exhaled and faced forward. Jersey had already cleared the passage. Up ahead she heard talking, she was sure of it—and something that sounded like a bit of backslapping. Overcome with curiosity, she ignored her anxiety and moved forward. Thankfully, the ceiling of the tunnel was also growing taller again.

“Hey—cheers in there.” A familiar voice greeted them.

“Is that you, Tim?” Up on all fours, she shuffled toward the voice at the end of the shaft.

Jersey reached in and pulled her out. It was Tim Noggy, all right—in all of his largeness. A wonderful sight, indeed. Mia dusted herself off as Exeter crawled out of the tunnel.

“Gadzooks, it’s good to find you all. My compass is broken.” Noggy pointed to a small device that flashed illuminated numbers and letters.

Exeter passed his compass over. “When the needle isn’t spinning it appears to point in the opposite direction.” Tim studied the dial as he pivoted in a circle. “Which would make sense if we were in the Outremer.”

“Is it possible we are in the Outremer?” Mia asked.

Tim shrugged a shoulder up and down. “I’m pretty sure I just came from there.” Their large inventor friend checked his portal device. “December eleven, eighteen eighty-nine.”

Exeter glanced at the date. “Have you any idea where Ping and the young ladies are?”

Tim shook his head. “I just got here, mate.”

“What about Prospero? Any sign of him?”

Tim’s gaze crinkled and his grin widened. “I’ve got some news on him, all right, but first let’s find the others.” From one of the many pockets in his greatcoat, the young inventor pulled out yet another contraption. “This will set off the bugs—they’ll find our missing party in no time.”

“No need to waste battery power.” They all whirled around to find Ping standing in the middle of the cavern. Valentine and America peeked around the corner of a passage that led south, that is, if south truly was . . . north. Good God, they really were down a rabbit hole.

“I do hope your tour of the catacombs was as interesting as ours.” America smiled, as she and Valentine joined them.