Page 55 of Wolfhaven

Cheeky man. He held himself tall, leaning on the cane only slightly. A surprisingly elegant stride for one who limped.

You’re besotted with the man, she scolded herself. No good would come of this infatuation. But if she guarded her heart, perhaps no harm would come of it, either.

Upstairs, Evaine checked on her grandmother to make sure Hazel was sound asleep, donned her nightdress, and was about to slip out the door when she noticed that her statues had again been moved apart. She frowned at that.

Had to be Gran’s doing. She would ask why she was moving the figures in the morning. For now, she had an appointment with a duke.

She eased the door shut and tiptoed to the next one down the hall. With bated breath, she knocked.

“Enter.”

A thrill of excitement sent a swarm of butterflies fluttering in her belly. She squeezed through the door and closed it again with only a soft click of the latch.

He sat up in bed with his shirt unbuttoned, still in his trousers, with his knee propped before him. Trying to wrap his ankle without much success.

“Let me.” She went to him, perching on the bed’s edge. Her mind was already whirling with excuses she could tell Gran for being alone with him. At night. It was one thing to go about the mansion during the day, fully clothed. Quite another to sneak into a man’s room. Gran had overtly encouraged her to pursue him, but this was certainly a bridge too far.

Carefully she wound the strip of linen around his ankle.

“Too tight?” she asked.

“No.” He wiggled his toes. She finished her task quickly and tucked the end securely into the binding. He cupped her chin, bringing her gaze to his.

“I’m glad you came. I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Here I am. What do you want to do?” A silly thing to say. She was here for one thing. She didn’t know how to start.

“Anything you want.” Gareth leaned back against the headboard. “We can talk. Or⁠—”

Evaine bent forward to press her lips to his. Softly, he kissed her back. Taking control. She moved in closer until she was practically in his lap. Her heart thrummed in her chest. She exhaled a sigh of relief. What they had done earlier was only a taste. She felt as if she had been given a morsel and then told to wait.

Now, she could feast.

Their kiss turned frantic. She arched into him, her spine bowing as he pulled her closer. He seized her breast through the thin fabric of her shift. A gasp tore past her lips. He moved his lips down her throat, nipping the delicate skin near her collarbone.

He shifted, rolling her onto her back. Evaine spiked her fingers through his hair as his hot mouth closed over the taut peak. Nothing had ever felt as good as his mouth on hers. It wasn’t enough. She needed to feel his skin against hers.

“Off,” she demanded, tugging at his shirt. “Take it off.”

“Demanding, aren’t you?” He chuckled and sat back, yanked the fabric at the base of his neck, and tugged the shirt off in one quick movement. Evaine hardly noticed the scars. She saw the play of his muscles as he tossed it aside. “I like that.”

“Good. You’ll find me very demanding—oh.” She sank back on the pillows with a sigh. He rucked up the hem of her nightgown and kissed her stomach.

“You’ll find I’m even more so,” he said, and moved one leg over his shoulder. He parted her slick folds with two blunt fingers. “Very nice, Evaine. A good start. We can get you wetter, though.”

Exposed to him, she watched in fascination as he dipped his head and licked her folds. She gaped in stunned disbelief. A knowing smirk glinted in his eyes when he glanced at her. It was obscene, what he was doing. She had known it was possible but never expected to actually experience this. Each stroke of his tongue coiled deep in her core.

She gripped his hair. Didn’t mean to. She couldn’t resist reaching for him, and when she found his locks, he bore down on the aching pearl with the flat of his tongue. She held fast. His hips moved restlessly against the bedspread.

Too soon, she went over the edge. She climaxed against his face. He devoured her, took her all the way through the end until she had to push him away. She was throbbing, sensitive to the touch.

“Now it’s your turn,” she whispered, pulling him up the bed. He shifted onto his back, propped up against the headboard. The pillows were sliding half off the bed. Neither of them bothered to rearrange them.

“You don’t have to,” he said, bringing her close for a kiss. She tasted herself on his lips. Shocking, yet not unpleasant. This was not a man who feared desire. He owned it.

“I want to.” His boldness heightened her own curiosity. The one coupling she had experienced, to such disaster, had been brief and unsatisfying. Gareth seemed to want to draw this out as long as possible.

She slid down his long body, admiring the muscles on the perfect half of his body, tenderly grazing the thick scars with her fingertips, as she went. He flinched at her touch.