Marquess Under the Mistletoe by Jillian Eaton

Author:Jillian Eaton [Eaton, Jillian]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2019-12-09T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Jasper’s kiss was both soft and unexpectedly tender. Honora’s eyes fluttered closed. She leaned into the embrace, her palms pressing against his chest. She felt the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his skin, the rippling of his muscles as her fingers instinctively trailed down towards the flat plane of his abdomen.

The kiss deepened. He cupped her nape, his fingertips gently dissolving her tension as his tongue ran along the seam between her lips. She opened her mouth on a mewl of pleasure and he slipped inside to taste and explore in long, lazy, lingering sweeps. Time fell away until every second passed by like a small eternity and Honora didn’t know if it was morning or night.

The cold glass at her back helped temper the flames rising within her. On a sigh, her head fell back, and Jasper kissed the side of her neck, his bristly whispers scraping against sensitive flesh. His hand slid down her back, following the delicate line of her vertebrae until he encountered the rounded curve of her bottom. He squeezed her flesh and her eyes flew open, shocked at the idea of someone touching her in such a private place...and shocked by how much she enjoyed his forbidden touch.

“What are you doing?” she moaned.

“Ravishing you,” he replied without hesitation. “Do you like it?”

Her lashes grew heavy as his mouth once again found her earlobe. “If I say yes, will you hold it over my head?”

“Most definitely.”

“Then I’ve absolutely loathed every second.” She slumped against the windowsill, her legs too weary to hold her upright any longer. “Do you think you could do that thing with your tongue where you – ahh,” she said on a tiny hum of pleasure. “Yes, that’s it.”

Honora couldn’t say how much longer the ravishing went on. A minute, an hour, a day. All she knew was that it exceeded her wildest expectations, and she wondered why she hadn’t allowed herself to be ravished sooner.

Unfortunately, all good things had to come to an end, and at the sound of approaching footsteps and the faint chatter of voices, Jasper leapt back and straightened his cravat and waistcoat with remarkable spend and aplomb. After she’d quickly fixed her own appearance, Honora frowned at the marquess who did not have so much as a single hair out of place.

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” she asked suspiciously. “Kissed a woman in a solarium.”

“In a solarium?” He shook his head. “Not that I can recall. A drawing room, yes. Of course.”

Of course.

“As well as a parlor and a broom closet.” He ticked off his fingers one by one. “A music room, a library, a kitchen–”

“I think I have the idea,” she interrupted.

He grinned wolfishly. “Jealous, Lady Honora?”

Oh, so they were back to Lady Honora, were they?

The nerve.

“Absolutely not,” she lied with a toss of her head as Rebecca, accompanied by her husband and Lady Appleton, glided into the room.

“Honora,” her mother said, clearly surprised to see her. “I did not realize anyone had come down for breakfast yet.

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