The Venus and the Viscount: Second Chance Manor Book 4 by Scott Scarlett

Author:Scott, Scarlett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Happily Ever After Books, LLC
Published: 2021-07-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Charity held her breath as the big, masculine body atop hers stiffened. As Neville’s green gaze burned into hers. Neville. So personal, so intimate. She liked thinking of him that way. No more Wilty. Not now, not ever. What a misnomer she had mistakenly bestowed upon him. How had she ever thought him too proper, a bore?

There was nothing wilted about the man whose strong, delicious body was atop hers. And there most assuredly had been nothing wilted about the thick length of him she had inadvertently discovered in his trousers.

Her curiosity had made her bold.

It was making her bolder now as she awaited his response. The taste of him—shaving soap and salty male flesh—was still in her mouth from when she had nibbled on his whisker-stubbled flesh.

“You do not know what you are asking, Charity,” he said, his voice strained.

The tenseness in his jaw could not be denied. She wanted to kiss it away. So she did. She put her lips on that harsh angle. Kiss, kiss, kiss. All the way to his mouth. And she kissed him there, too. Their lips communicated more smoothly in a silent manner, she had discovered.

And she did know what she was asking. She had spent the entirety of the day thinking about him. Thinking about the way she felt about him. Thinking about what her friends had told her the day before. Trying to distract herself by reading a book.

The book had gone mostly unread, though she could not deny that Confessions of a Sinful Earl was as wicked as it was intriguing. Her heart, however, had not been in the prose. Then he had come.

As if she had wished him here.

She had never imagined a man like him would come to her in her own chamber. But he had, at once handsome and proper and uncertain of himself, his shoulders and bearing stiff, his emerald gaze vibrant, his mouth a wicked promise that had delivered.

Their tongues tangled. She kissed him with everything she had, aware of the barrier of her dressing gown, trapped between their bodies, keeping her from what she wanted most. Dropping her head against the counterpane—who knew what manner they were situated in upon the bed, for there was nary a pillow within reach, but she hardly cared—she looked up at him, meeting his gaze.

“I do know what I am asking,” she told him. “I want you.”

That much was true. She did want him. She wanted him desperately. As she had been agonizing over her future and what she wanted, Charity had settled upon a new course of action. She would experience passion with Wilton—Neville. Why not? She wanted him. If he proved amenable, she would experience lovemaking for the first time. She did not need to marry him.

Her friends may be in love, but that did not mean she was.

No, indeed.

She was in lust.

According to the naughty books she had devoured, there was only one way to assuage such an ailment. So doing, she would be free of the hold Neville had upon her.

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