Page 66 of Seduced By a Scoundrel

Chapter Sixteen

Sybil was not entirely sure that she was not imagining Keir’s beautifully filthy words—at least until she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips. He barely shifted, catching her easily. His glass-green eyes were swallowed by dark pupils, watching her with a kind of stunned and vicious joy. She was so desperate for him, swollen and throbbing, that she might find her release just by shifting her position slightly against his hardness. She could lose herself, right here and right now.

Instead, she eased back slightly but did not let go.

Eyes open.

“What about Lady Violetta?” Sybil asked quietly. She didn’t want to ask. She wanted to pretend that his answer did not matter. That nothing mattered but this moment. Nothing but the thread between them tightening, tightening. But that was not the way the world worked. She already knew it was not the way he worked, despite evidence to the contrary.

“What of her?”

“You’re courting her,” she reminded him even as she wished she could just keep her mouth shut for once in her blessed life. “I am sure she would not care for this, even if you are not officially betrothed.” She had always known they would end.

“We are not betrothed,” he said. She nodded. She did not know what else to do. She wanted that to be enough. “And I am not courting her.”

“I underst—” Sybil broke off. “I’m sorry, did you…?”

She must have heard him wrong. She was not prone to hallucinations, but she supposed anyone might succumb when wrapped around a burly Scotsman who looked as if it was taking every ounce of his strength not to devour her.

“I spoke to Lady Violetta after the horse race.”

“You… did?”

“Yes. It seemed the only decent thing to do.”

And so it was. For him. Her very dutiful and honorable marquess to the core. That was why his sudden cut direct by the front door of his house and the ensuing silence at the garden fence had hurt so much all of those years ago. Because he always strove to do what was right. And she was wrong for him, for what he wanted from his life. But tonight, she refused to let any of that matter.

“I cannot possibly court another woman when I cannot keep my hands off you. I was a fool to think I could.”

“Was she very upset?”

“No,” he replied drily. “She was not the least bit fazed. Her mother, however, howled.”

“I am sure she did.”

“Loudly. It startled the cat.”

She would have this night.

And then she would carry on.

Sybil knew how to carry on.

“Let me love you, Sybil,” he said roughly. “There’s no one to stop us now.”

There was all of Society and all of his very beloved rules to stop them.

But again, not tonight.

Not tonight.

When she kissed him, it was slow and deep. Heat swelled, as it always did, but they struggled to stretch the moment. Not to hurry because someone might find them, but because they might start thinking clearly again. He cradled her bottom, pulling her legs wider around him, dragging her center over his hardness, again and again. Teasing her, tormenting her, whetting her appetite for him until she made soft, mewling noises in her throat. He chased them with his mouth and his teeth, dragging sucking kisses along her neck. She shivered in his arms, digging her fingers into his hair.

He crossed the room in two great strides, and the muscles of his shoulders worked under her fingertips. She wanted to see them, wanted to run her tongue along his skin. Wanted to bite them. She plucked at his cravat as he set her down on the edge of the bed, chuckling even as he continued to kiss her. He sounded happy. Not tortured.

She threw the cravat on the floor and watched as he made quick work of his waistcoat and tugged his lawn shirt over his head. The firelight played over the soft pelt of hair, the thickness of his torso, all ridges and strength and padding of warm flesh over muscle. His dark hair was tousled from her hands; his green eyes gleamed like sea glass.

She didn’t know where to look because she wanted to see everything all at once. She had never really had the opportunity before. They had not allowed it of themselves. Of each other.