His Lordship's True Lady (True Gentlemen Book 4) by Grace Burrowes

Author:Grace Burrowes [Burrowes, Grace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grace Burrowes Publishing
Published: 2017-06-12T18:00:00+00:00

Lily’s gaze was distraught as she stabbed Hessian’s cravat pin into the mattress near the top corner of the bed.

He hadn’t the patience to wait for her to undo his linen, for he’d tarried too long admiring her breasts, wallowing in the taste and scent and feel of her. Soft, soft skin. Luscious, subtle fragrances. Curves and hollows and wonders beyond his imaginings.

He gathered her in his arms, thanking heaven for stolen moments, and cursing all the modistes in Mayfair for skirts, petticoats, chemises, and every other frustration made out of fabric.

Lily raised her knees, which got matters somewhat organized, then she bit Hessian’s ear.

“I’m trying not to rush,” he muttered. “Do that again, and I won’t answer for the consequences.”

She sucked the spot she’d bitten, and Hessian retaliated by sliding her skirts up, up, and up, which he might have thought to do—had he been able to think—before falling on her like a beast.

Lily lifted her hips, so male hardness met female heat, though fourteen thousand froths and billows prevented any actual touching.

Hessian’s palm connected with a smooth, muscular thigh, and he nearly shouted with rejoicing. No drawers. I am saved.

And he’d managed not to say that out loud.

Lily got him by the hair and tilted his head so she could kiss him. Her kiss tasted of determination and passion, certainly, but Hessian detected desperation as well. He wanted to believe he sensed desperate desire, though the setting was wrong, the timing was wrong, the very bed was all wrong.

Clearly, he had no instinct for casting off the dictates of convention. What manner of romance could flourish in a bare, cramped—?

Lily kissed him again, softly. “I have dreamed of you like this.” She smiled at him as if he’d laid her on a bower of rose petals, not a glorified cot in a gloomy corner of his conservatory.

“You dreamed of linen sheets, sunbeams, a long afternoon, surely.” He’d give her that, many times over. Along with champagne, French chocolate drops, and erotic poetry.

“No, Hessian. I dreamed of you, close and soon to be closer. Only you.”

He laid his cheek against hers, and bless her for all time, she tugged skirts and petticoats and all that other whatnot aside, until no barriers remained. She arched up, he settled in, and they were skin to skin where it mattered.

“Kiss me,” she whispered. “Kiss me forever.”

He positioned himself intimately, and as the kissing resumed, the joining began.

Lily was snug and ready and heavenly. “Tell me if—”

She moved, and heaven became an understatement. All the hesitation and doubts fell away, all the questions. This was right. This was perfect. This was what every man hoped to find waiting for him at the end of every journey.

“When you do that,” she whispered as Hessian found a slow, deep rhythm. “It’s exquisite. It’s good. I feel….”

“As do I.” Glorious, grateful, aroused as hell.

A bird fluttered in through the window and back out, and that was right too. Hessian found the self-restraint to love Lily gently, but another time—many other times—he’d let passion soar and show her more dramatic pleasures.

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