Read Online The Mad Earl's Bride by Loretta Chase - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Loretta Chase
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could not help yearning for that purity and softness, and then he could not keep from reaching for her.
He clamped his needy mouth upon her soft, trembling one, and the clean, sweet taste of her made him shiver—in pleasure or despair, he couldn’t tell. For all he knew the chill was the emptiness inside him, ever-present, impossible to fill.
He should have stopped then, for his sanity’s sake, if nothing else. He knew it was hopeless. This innocent could never sate him. No woman, no matter how experienced and skilled, had ever done it.
But her lips were so soft, warming and yielding to the pressure of his. He had to draw her nearer, seeking the warmth of her young body while he savored the untutored surrender of her innocent mouth.
He pressed her close, greedy for her warmth and softness. He pressed her to his famished body while he deepened the kiss, seeking desperately, as always, for more.
He felt her shudder, but he couldn’t stop—not yet. He couldn’t keep his tongue from searching the mysteries of her mouth . . . feminine secrets, promising everything.
Lured by scent and taste and touch, he slipped into the darkness. He stroked over her back, heard silk whisper under his fingers, and felt her shift under his touch. Then he was truly lost because she moved into his caress as though she’d done it many times before, as though she belonged in his arms, had always belonged.
Warmth . . . softness . . . sinuous curves under whispering silk, melting against him . . . woman-scent, enveloping him . . . and her skin . . .
He trailed his lips over her satiny cheek, and she sighed. The soft sound ignited the too-quick inner fuse of desire. His fingers found a fastening . . .
“If you’re trying to scare me off,” came her foggy voice, her breath tickling his ear, “you’re going about it all wrong.”
His hands stilled.
He raised his head and looked at her. Her eyes opened, and slowly her hazy green gaze sharpened into focus. His own haze instantly dissipated under that penetrating study.
“I was taking a lunatic fit,” he said, aware that his thick tones told another story. He wrenched his gaze from the mesmerizing trap of hers and drew back.
Curling red tendrils had escaped their pins to tumble wildly about her flushed face and neck. Her gown was twisted askew.
He stepped back and looked at his hands, afraid to think where they’d been and what he might have done to an innocent, lusting oaf that he was.
“What is wrong with you?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you make me stop? Do you have any idea what I might have done?”
She tugged her gown back into place. “I have a very good idea,” she said. “I am familiar with the mechanics of human reproduction, as I told Mama. But she felt it was her maternal duty to explain it herself.”
She smoothed her bodice. “I must say, she did point out a few subtleties I was unaware of. And Genevieve, as you would expect, enlightened me further. It turned out to be not quite as simple as I thought.” She pushed a few pins back into her hair. “Which is not to say I haven’t experienced considerable enlightenment under your tutelage, my lord,” she added quickly. “It is one thing to be told about intimate kisses. Experiencing them is another matter altogether. What are you staring at?” She looked down at herself. “Have I missed something? Is anything undone?” She turned, presenting her slim back. “Do I need fastening?”
“No.” Thank God, he added silently.
She turned back and smiled.
Her mouth was overwide. He had noticed that before . . . and felt and tasted every luscious atom of it.
He could not remember seeing her smile before. If he had, he would not have forgotten, for it was a long, sweet curve that coiled about him like an enchantment.
He did not know how to resist its warm promise. He did not know how to fight her and himself simultaneously. He did not know how to drive her away, as he must, when she made
He clamped his needy mouth upon her soft, trembling one, and the clean, sweet taste of her made him shiver—in pleasure or despair, he couldn’t tell. For all he knew the chill was the emptiness inside him, ever-present, impossible to fill.
He should have stopped then, for his sanity’s sake, if nothing else. He knew it was hopeless. This innocent could never sate him. No woman, no matter how experienced and skilled, had ever done it.
But her lips were so soft, warming and yielding to the pressure of his. He had to draw her nearer, seeking the warmth of her young body while he savored the untutored surrender of her innocent mouth.
He pressed her close, greedy for her warmth and softness. He pressed her to his famished body while he deepened the kiss, seeking desperately, as always, for more.
He felt her shudder, but he couldn’t stop—not yet. He couldn’t keep his tongue from searching the mysteries of her mouth . . . feminine secrets, promising everything.
Lured by scent and taste and touch, he slipped into the darkness. He stroked over her back, heard silk whisper under his fingers, and felt her shift under his touch. Then he was truly lost because she moved into his caress as though she’d done it many times before, as though she belonged in his arms, had always belonged.
Warmth . . . softness . . . sinuous curves under whispering silk, melting against him . . . woman-scent, enveloping him . . . and her skin . . .
He trailed his lips over her satiny cheek, and she sighed. The soft sound ignited the too-quick inner fuse of desire. His fingers found a fastening . . .
“If you’re trying to scare me off,” came her foggy voice, her breath tickling his ear, “you’re going about it all wrong.”
His hands stilled.
He raised his head and looked at her. Her eyes opened, and slowly her hazy green gaze sharpened into focus. His own haze instantly dissipated under that penetrating study.
“I was taking a lunatic fit,” he said, aware that his thick tones told another story. He wrenched his gaze from the mesmerizing trap of hers and drew back.
Curling red tendrils had escaped their pins to tumble wildly about her flushed face and neck. Her gown was twisted askew.
He stepped back and looked at his hands, afraid to think where they’d been and what he might have done to an innocent, lusting oaf that he was.
“What is wrong with you?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you make me stop? Do you have any idea what I might have done?”
She tugged her gown back into place. “I have a very good idea,” she said. “I am familiar with the mechanics of human reproduction, as I told Mama. But she felt it was her maternal duty to explain it herself.”
She smoothed her bodice. “I must say, she did point out a few subtleties I was unaware of. And Genevieve, as you would expect, enlightened me further. It turned out to be not quite as simple as I thought.” She pushed a few pins back into her hair. “Which is not to say I haven’t experienced considerable enlightenment under your tutelage, my lord,” she added quickly. “It is one thing to be told about intimate kisses. Experiencing them is another matter altogether. What are you staring at?” She looked down at herself. “Have I missed something? Is anything undone?” She turned, presenting her slim back. “Do I need fastening?”
“No.” Thank God, he added silently.
She turned back and smiled.
Her mouth was overwide. He had noticed that before . . . and felt and tasted every luscious atom of it.
He could not remember seeing her smile before. If he had, he would not have forgotten, for it was a long, sweet curve that coiled about him like an enchantment.
He did not know how to resist its warm promise. He did not know how to fight her and himself simultaneously. He did not know how to drive her away, as he must, when she made
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