Page 90 of The Forsaken

Their cloaks came off next—with difficulty.

When her fingers shook too badly, Edgar effortlessly slipped her clasp free which allowed her cloak to fall at their feet, and then joined his in the pile.

Not breaking stride, she and Edgar scrambled over a tangle of wool.

She ripped his cravat free.

He snatched open the back of her gown.

Buttons sailed. A dozen beads hit the floor. Plink-plink-plink.

The soles of their boots caught the pearls.

Andromena and Edgar skidded and skated. He caught her to him and took the impact as they sailed into the stair rail.

Laughing, against one another’s mouths, they collapsed onto the top step. They paused for a moment—then resumed, moved with a renewed frenzy: tugging one another’s boots free.

He kissed her with a fierce, angry hunger. She wanted to smile, but his mouth swallowed her laugh, sweeping her away. Moaning softly, she surrendered to his kiss.

She was not laughing long.

Heat settled in her belly and coursed lower. She gripped his head. A pressure built steadily between her legs. Andromena bit her lip hard. That didn’t help, so she tried his shoulder instead.

Edgar being Edgar knew what she needed. He curled his larger, powerful palms beneath her buttocks and dragged her into the vee of his legs. She moaned. The long line of his manhood felt like hot steel against her silken garments.

His hands were everywhere, and he absolutely did know what to do with them. He palmed her breasts through her gown; he played with her nipples. The silk barrier of fabric between them was unbearable.

He lowered her frothy neckline and chemise, baring her to his hot gaze and even hotter hands, and she learned an even newer meaning of unbearable. Edgar weighed her flesh like a measure of gold. He lowered his head, closed his mouth around the pebbled peak, and sucked.

He laved and sucked her nipples; the sucking sounds filled her ears and the empty cottage. Those sounds were so naughty and forbidden, a heavy ache settled between her thighs. Squirming, Andromena bit her lip. “Mmm.” Clinging to his neck, she pressed her body to his and rubbed, in search of relief.

“Edgar,” she pleaded.

“I will take care of you, darling.”

She had not before heard a more stalwart, heartfelt vow.

He went on to honor his ardent pledge.

Under her skirts, he palmed her mound, stroked the damp curls, until more wanton sounds spilled from her lips and she couldn’t even care because Edgar was praising her between worshiping her. Biting at her lips, she rocked in time to the slow glide of his fingers.

His breathing came as harsh and hungry as her own. It was an act he seemed to enjoy as much as her, which she knew was impossible, because nothing, absolutely nothing, could feel better than this.

Except, at some point between stroking her and praising her breasts with his wicked words and mouth, he managed to undress both of them completely and maneuver them upstairs. “Fortunately, I took an earlier tour of your favorite place in the world,” he said, between kisses. “I knew your room the moment I stepped inside. It is now my favorite place in the world.”

It used to be hers.

But now, her favorite place was wherever Edgar was.

“These lace stockings of yours stay on.” His voice roughened. “I knew you’d be in all lace. You love lace. And I loved lying awake every night envisioning you, exactly as you are now, and me, exactly as I am.” He stroked a hand over her thigh. “My God, metallic garters.”

“Yes, Edgar.”

His voice grew garbled. “Are you trying to kill me, darling?”

“Never, Edgar.”

Each inch of skin sheerly protected, Edgar worshipped with his smoldering gaze and hot mouth.