Twelve Nights of Scandal by Lomax Carrie

Author:Lomax, Carrie [Lomax, Carrie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2019-11-30T16:00:00+00:00

8

Amity laughed. “The devil you will.”

“Amity,” Finn groaned against her mouth. “If I can’t convince you with words, let me show you with kisses.”

She was tired of resisting him. For days, she had kept clear of Finlay in hopes that she and Holly could resolve their differences. It hadn’t worked. Each hour had deepened the trench between them until Amity feared they had crossed into outright enmity. She deserved a little joy this holiday. More than just at Christmas—Amity deserved the warm happiness that had helped Mother survive devastating loss.

She couldn’t stand to be a secondary consideration in her cousin’s ambitions. Holly wanted Finlay, but he no longer wanted her in return. Finn had chosen her. Amity. The knowledge lifted a heavy weight within her.

Alone, at least for a brief while, she could reach for the future she wanted but dared not grasp. Amity stretched up on tiptoe to close the distance between them. Her lips met his in an ardent embrace. Amity’s legs turned rubbery. If this was to be the only time they had together, she resolved to enjoy every moment. She shimmied out of the confines of her quilt to wrap both arms around his neck.

“I thought I could be noble,” she gasped between kisses. “I thought I could surrender you to Holly. But I can’t. I want to keep you for myself.”

“Shh. Do not summon your cousin,” Finn whispered.

Amity’s mouth gaped as his hand skimmed up her ribs. Finn’s thumb traced the underside of her breast. Amity’s back arched instinctively, seeking more. “Yes,” she hissed.

Finn sucked her lower lip, which sent a ripple of pleasure through Amity’s body. Time fell away. Past became present. Amity shuddered at his touch. The future dimmed. Perhaps it had never been very bright. Amity could not mourn a future that asked her to tie herself bodily to a man she did not desire. Her soul refused to concede—she would have pleasure, or she would have nothing. She could only hope her sisters would understand why she had wasted her mother’s gift.

He wants to marry you. But wasn’t that what all men said before they took advantage of a woman?

Amity’s hunger had her leaning into Finlay’s touch like a purring barn cat. Finn palmed her breast. His erect cock jutted against her stomach through layers of clothing. He wanted her in return. The knowledge thrilled her.

“Do that, more,” she gasped. Finlay obliged. He dropped both hands to her waist and leaned back to lift her against his chest. The scratch of wool and rough glide of linen over the tops of her breasts sent liquid heat streaking through her veins. Amity tried to wrap her legs around his waist but was thwarted by the narrow cut of her dress. The skirt trapped her legs closed.

“Finn,” Amity half-groaned, “Set me down.”

“Fine,” he grunted between desperate kisses. He perched her on the edge of the window seat and stood back, panting, his hair mussed, his cravat wrinkled and his jacket askew. Finlay half glowered at her, his angular features echoing all the emotions Amity didn’t know how to express.

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