Page 28 of An Extraordinary Lord

Unable to stop himself, he grabbed her around the waist and yanked her to him, hips to hips, chest to chest, as he hungrily devoured her kiss. Desire sparked a wildfire between them.

Thiswas what he’d craved from her last night, this taste of her passion that he’d longed to have. He just hadn’t expected a beard.

With a whimper of capitulation, she opened her mouth, and he thrust his tongue between her lips and claimed the sweetness waiting within.

Her arms snaked up around his shoulders to pull him closer, and he slid his hand behind her neck to hold her head still as he changed his ministrations. No longer the seeking plunges of his tongue that delved into the warm recesses of her mouth, but now relentless and fierce thrusts to selfishly claim all the pleasure he could. She trembled against him, her fingertips digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders in silent encouragement for him to give her even more.

He groaned.Gladly.

His hands swept up her body to her chest—and froze. No breasts whose fullness he could caress, no nipples to tease. Only then did he remember that she’d bound herself for her disguise, and disappointment panged in his gut.

As if sensing his frustration, she grabbed his hand and shoved it behind her, against her arse.

“Here,” she whispered, granting this small compensation. “Touch me here.”

He rubbed his hand over her round bottom, and she inhaled sharply against his mouth. Emboldened, he captured both full lobes in his hands and squeezed them. The rough caresses he gave her turned her breathing shallow and ragged. He squeezed again, and a shudder of raw yearning sizzled through her.

His hands slid up her back to draw her even closer, until her soft lower belly pressed deliciously against his hardening cock. Her pulse raced beneath his fingertips as he brushed his hand down her throat, claiming whatever touches of bare skin he could around the men’s clothing. All the while, he continued to kiss her, to tease at her mouth and bite at her bottom lip, doing his damnedest to drive her wild. The same as she was doing to him.

Breathless, she tore her mouth away to gasp for air and fell bonelessly against him, her cheek resting against his shoulder.

He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. It was still wet and swollen from the bruising kisses he’d given her in an attempt to match the ferocity of her desire. “Veronica, that was…”

“Completely out of line,” she finished hoarsely. “My apologies.” She confessed in a whisper, “I simply couldn’t help myself.” Then she pulled back and forced a smile, one that did little to hide her surprise at what they’d just done. “Barristers drive me mad, remember? All those thoughts of gowns and wigs…and thumping gavels.”

Despite her teasing, she placed her hand to his chest, right over his pounding heart. She stared up at him with slightly parted lips, waiting for him to make the next move and decide what other pleasures they might share tonight.

Sweet Lucifer, he wanted them all. And repeatedly. Yet he couldn’t stop the troubled thoughts about her past that spun through his head, that kept him from scooping her into his arms and carrying her off to the nearest bed. Or simply taking her right here against the door.

A man and woman strolled out of the darkness and through the bank of fog toward them. Merritt slipped his hand behind her neck and drew her head down against his chest so they wouldn’t see her face.

Only after they’d passed did he realize he’d hidden her not because she looked like a man but because he simply wanted to protect her. Just as he’d have protected any society miss in his daylight world.

But she wasn’t a society miss. She was a convicted criminal with knives up both sleeves and a stark reminder that the nighttime darkness inverted everything.

She lifted her head to look up at him and whispered, “What do we do now?”

With a frown, he thoughtfully ran his fingers through her beard. “We hunt down whoever was riding in the Earl of Malmesbury’s coach tonight with Smathers.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” She meant the attraction between them, that primal pull that flared and sizzled every time they were together.

But he sure as hell wasn’t going to talk aboutthat. Instead, he took her arm and led her out of the shadows and into the street, thanking God for the chilly, foggy air that dampened his lust.

“I don’t know who was in that carriage,” he explained as he waved down a hackney. “But our hunt just crossed over from your world into mine.”

An old carriage stopped in front of them. The rain-wet jarvey at the ribbons didn’t bother to tip his tall felt hat to them.

“You took me into the Court of Miracles and taught me how to move through your world.” He opened the door and stepped back so she could climb inside, then barked out directions to the driver as he swung up after her. “Now it’s time I teach you about mine.”

Eight

Veronica peered past Merritt as he jumped out of the hackney and held the door for her. She stared up at the building, unable to believe her eyes.

“A brothel?” Blinking in confusion, she stepped to the ground. “You brought me to abrothelto teach me about your world?” Placing her hands on her hips, she slid him a dubious glance. “What kind of world do you live in?”

He wisely ignored that. “This isn’t just any brothel.” He nodded toward the plain-looking town house that could have passed for any other terrace house in the west end, if not for the crowd of gentlemen gathered on the footpath and the large man standing on the small portico, guarding the door. “This is the finest brothel this side of Covent Garden.”