What you Propose by Adele Clee

Author:Adele Clee [Clee, Adele]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-04-08T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Anna could tell from his rich, seductive tone what he intended to do. Still, she'd had no time to protest, no time to plan how best to proceed. Not that she wanted to protest. She had thought of nothing other than his soft lips all night.

Marcus Danbury oozed masculine charm. The earthy scent of his skin, the way his lips curved into a seductive smile, and his strong muscular thighs, all posed an intoxicating combination. She wondered if she felt the potent thrum of passion more strongly because she had never desired a man before. Now, she understood what kept the randy lords of the ton up all night.

"I want you so badly." He practically growled the words as he sucked in a breath and pressed her back against the stone wall.

She panted, but excitement and anticipation prevented her from forming a single word.

As Marcus' mouth ravaged hers again, all rational thought left her. Lenard's men were not about to pounce on them.

They were alone in an isolated cave.

They were alone in the dark.

The warmth of his mouth inflamed her body. There was nothing slow or measured about the way he kissed her. Like a true pirate, he took what he wanted, plundering hard and deep with his tongue until she clutched at his shoulders.

In the cave, it was cold and damp, but the heat from the hard body pressed against her penetrated the thin layers of clothing. While his mouth moved over hers, his hands were everywhere — frantic, desperate touches that left the hairs at her nape tingling.

"Holy hell," he groaned as his hands settled on her buttocks to draw her against the evidence of his arousal. "I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you." Desire shot through her as he rained kisses down her neck. "Tell me you want me, too."

"I do." The words tumbled from her lips. She felt dizzy, her head so light and free. A deep, clawing need settled between her thighs, the beating pulse growing in intensity.

He must have sensed her desperation as his hand drifted up her bare leg, his fingers rubbing against her most sensitive spot.

"Forget everything I said about wearing breeches," he panted, stroking her back and forth until she gasped for breath. "I was wrong."

"Marcus … wait … I …"

In the dark, all other senses were heightened. His musky scent filled her head. His hot, wet tongue stimulated every fibre of her being as it danced and tangled with hers. She could feel a pleasurable tension building within. A desperate ache. Each motion of his fingers brought her closer to the place where she would cry out his name.

"Don't stop," she gasped.

"I don't intend to. But let me hear your thoughts. Tell me how it feels for me to touch you."

He kept up the rhythmical motion until her body tingled, until the muscles in her core gave way to faint, sporadic contractions.

"It feels divine," she whispered as he had taken her far beyond the need for modesty.

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