Page 86 of Make Mine a Marquess

Wasting no time, his hands spanned her waist, and he picked her up and laid her on the white coverlet.

“I’ve fantasized about you day and night. Of your fair limbs and golden hair spread across the sheets.”

He kissed her like a man starved, then gently nipped the shell of her ear, causing her to shiver. His lips traveled to her neck, then lingered at her breasts. He kissed and sucked and teased each breast as she clutched his head and held him to her.

He worshipped his way down her flat abdomen, the curve of her hip, until he came to the golden curls between her thighs where she desperately ached for him. If his skilled fingers didn’t touch her soon, she’d die. But then he nudged her thighs apart and his hot breath brushed against her right there.

Shocked, she lifted her head and met his gaze. “Robert, I—”

Desire blazed in his black eyes. “Let me love you like I’ve wanted for so long.”

She didn’t fully understand. “I—”

At the first touch of his lips against her sensitive flesh, her head fell back. Nothing had prepared her for the pleasure, and she abandoned all inhibitions. He was eager to please and to touch and to taste. Her whimpers and gasps seemed to fuel his ardor, and she succumbed to the wicked ecstasy. Mindless, she dug her heels into the mattress and arched upward. The writhing of her hips and the scrape of her nails on his scalp drove him on. He was merciless as he drew out her orgasm, prolonging every little quiver, until she peaked in ecstasy and reached the stars.

He climbed above her and captured her gaze. “I’ll never forget how you look at this moment. Beautiful and flushed with pleasure.”

She opened her arms. “Come to me.”

He shook his head. “Tonight is about you. It’s all I need.”

At his selfless words, her heart swelled with a frightening and thrilling emotion she knew could only be love. She loved him. And with that truth, she could never marry another man, let alone Willard, while her heart ached just looking at the marquess. Even if there was no future between them—he did not yet seek a wife—she could not walk down the aisle herself.

Not now. Maybe not ever.

She buried her face in his neck, then whispered in his ear, “I don’t think that’s very fair. Do you?” Her fingers touched his chest.

He placed his hand upon hers. “Phoebe, darling. I surprised you.”

“Yes, you did. But a lady can seize an opportunity.”

Her fingers followed the trail of hair that led down his chest and disappeared into the waistband of his trousers where a bulge appeared. A large bulge.

Her already flushed skin grew hot.

“I want to see you. To touch you. Will you deny me?”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. I want to.” She pushed him to his back.

He groaned. “I’d be a fool to refuse you.”

She smiled coyly and then worked the buttons on the placket of his trousers. Standing swiftly, he removed his boots and his trousers, then joined her on the bed. “I promise to make it good for you,” he said.

Her smile was full of self-confidence. “I don’t doubt it.”

…

“Teach me how to pleasure you.” Her fingers, light and teasing, traveled down his chest to touch his groin. His skin tightened. His cock took notice.

She was a dream come true. A gift. The notion she’d been meant for another…for his cousin…was unfathomable. Thank goodness she’d come to the realization and she’d break off the betrothal herself.

His hand covered hers. “Phoebe…”

“Show me,” she urged.

Her fingers cupped his balls then traveled up his cock to tease its head. Then miraculously, she dipped her head beneath the sheets and her tongue teased his cockhead.