A Caribbean Heiress in Paris--A Historical Romance by Adriana Herrera

Author:Adriana Herrera
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HQN Books
Published: 2022-03-04T14:53:53+00:00

* * *

Luz felt like she was in a dream. A fevered, hot, dizzying dream. She knew this was not smart. That it was likely a huge mistake to do this now, but she was crawling out of her skin with need. The way he touched her. He made her feel sated and ravenous all at once.

She wanted more of him, always. Constantly more. Maybe if they did this, if she had him, she’d feel more under control.

Evan made quick work of her clothes with the practiced expertise of a man who’d disrobed his fair share of women. He was quiet as he unbuttoned first her skirts, then smoothly pulled back her bodice. He kissed the back of her neck as he reached around and undid the last hooks of her corset. Luz couldn’t hold in the sigh of relief that escaped her when she was finally free from the blasted thing.

“Better?” he asked so quietly she almost missed the question. It was hard to focus with his hands on her like that.

“I hate those things.”

He shook his head, causing his beard to graze her cheek. It was a toe-curling, electric sensation with her skin oversensitized like this. She shivered at the thought of that scruff on her belly, between her thighs.

“Poor darlings,” he crooned as he palmed her breasts and kneaded them gently. “I’ll have to tend to them later.” Every word out of the man’s mouth seemed to be directly connected to whatever it was that held one’s joints together.

He walked around her until he was facing her, impossibly large. It was a massive room, with high ceilings and furniture scaled to accommodate a man of Evan’s size, but he still seemed to occupy the entire space. He was fully dressed still, slightly disheveled, but composed as he gracefully went down to his knees in front of her. Luz could not say that she’d ever given much thought to the circumstances of her first time with a man.

As a girl, she’d dreamed of having a soul mate who loved her like her parents did each other. But then her mother had died and she’d witnessed the desolate, unending despair of her father’s grief, and that illusion had lost a little bit of its luster. Then she’d lost him too, and the dreams she’d had for herself had been set aside. Only her responsibilities and her obligations propelled her forward.

Clarita’s future, Caña Brava, the cordials, Scotland—all of it was hers, yes, but also her family’s. Even this marriage was for them. The arrangement that would permit her to fulfill the dream that her mother and grandfather had started. But this man on his knees for her. His clever hands, his hot, hungry mouth giving her pleasure she scarcely knew was possible... This was just hers.

“Put your hands on my shoulders, m’eudail,” he asked as he unlaced her kid boots.

“Step out.” She did so, smiling at how thick his brogue was now, making the out sound like oot. Once the

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