Page 69 of When the Scoundrel Sins

She gave a jerky nod. “Like how you…caressed me in the pond, except…”

“Except with this,” he finished, squeezing her fingers gently as they encircled his thick girth. “This part of me slides inside you.”

Belle knew she should have been embarrassed by that, but she wasn’t. She didn’t even blush. This was Quinn, and she would never be self-conscious with him. His patience with her, his willingness to put her at ease— Surely, there was some kind of caring behind that. Therehadto be. Because she certainly cared for him.

“I know,” she breathed, so softly that the sound was nearly lost against the silence of the night surrounding them. “I’ve read about it.”

He grinned at her. “Of course you did.”

“But the books were wrong.” They had to be. To dothatwhen he was so big— “I don’t think it’s possible.”

“Trust me,” he murmured. “It’s very possible.”

“But you’re huge!”

He laughed, a rich and throaty sound that filled her with warmth, as his arms went around her and hugged her to him. When he kissed her again, this time sucking softly at her bottom lip as he retreated, she suspected she’d said the best thing in the world to him…but she had no idea why that should please him so, when she’d only pointed out why they’d have to stop.

“It will hurt the first time,” he explained, tenderly stroking his fingertips over her cheek. “I can’t prevent that.”

She drew a deep breath and nodded, knowing that he would never intentionally hurt her.

“But I can prevent getting you with child.”

As he reached to retrieve something from his jacket breast pocket, she felt a stab of panic sweep through her. Getting with child? She hadn’t considered—but Quinn had, and she realized again how much she could trust him to protect her.

“It’s not as nice, I’ll admit.” He gently nudged her fingers away from him. In the shadows, she couldn’t see what he was doing, but when he brought her hand back to him, she felt a soft sheath covering his length, tied close to his body with a tiny ribbon. “But it’s necessary. All right?”

Another jerky nod, although she wasn’t certain exactly what she was agreeing to. But if Quinn thought it was needed…She sighed and trailed her fingers teasingly over his length just as she’d done earlier, careful not to knock the sheath from its place.

“Good,” he growled and swooped his head down to plunder her mouth, this kiss hot and openmouthed, hungry and full of wanton invitation. “Very good.” Her hand tightened around him, and he groaned. “And oh so wicked.”

“I’m not wicked,” she protested against his mouth.

“You are. A wicked angel.” With a smile against her lips, he rested his hands on her knees. “You’re a walking contradiction, Annabelle.”

His hands slid slowly upward, pulling her skirt carefully up along her thighs. With each little kiss he leaned in to take, he gently rocked her back and forth, freeing the material from beneath her until her dress lay bunched around her waist.

“An alluring, luscious contradiction…” He tenderly kissed her brow, and she closed her eyes with a soft sigh. “All independence and strength on the outside, so soft and sweet beneath.”

He gently parted her legs and stepped between her thighs. He stood so close now that the heat of his bare chest warmed her breasts, and the sprinkling of golden hair tickled at her nipples. Excitement and nervousness warred within her. Goose bumps sprouted across her skin with a shiver as his hands caressed up her inner thighs, stroking over the bare flesh above her stockings, higher and higher—

When he touched her folds, she jumped.

“Shh,” he whispered at her temple. “Relax, Belle.”

“I—I am r-relaxed.”

He chuckled, the deep sound rumbling into her. As one hand moved up to possessively cup her breast, he lightly stroked his fingers against her folds with the other. “You are so beautiful, yet you don’t realize how much,” he whispered. His words heated through her nearly as much as his fingers as he continued to stroke against her, and she bit her lip against the whimper of need that rose from her throat. “And you have no idea how very special this is for me, to be with you.”

She wasn’t naïve enough to believe him. “You’ve been with dozens of women. I’m not special.”

“Look at me, Belle,” he ordered, and she opened her eyes. His gaze met hers in the dark shadows. “Youarespecial to me…this bluestocking who wears men’s clothes and cheats at chess.”

When she opened her mouth to bite out an angry retort, he slipped his finger inside her tight warmth, and the rejoinder melted into a low moan of pleasure as he slid in and out of her slippery core. Oh, what a wicked, wicked man!

She trembled helplessly as the undeniable ache inside her grew. So intense and wonderful that it stole her breath away, forcing her to bury her face against his neck and breathe in soft pants.

“I have been drawn to you since the first time we kissed,” he murmured, continuing his tantalizing strokes inside her. “And contrary to what you may believe about me…”