In Bed with a Spy by Alyssa Alexander Page A

we?” His thigh was hard under her finger as she skimmed its length. The muscle beneath flexed. She reveled in that little relinquishment of power.
    “Lilias.” He reached for her hand, lifted it. His lips brushed her knuckles. Gold eyes fastened on hers. “You are beautiful.”
    “Angelstone—”
    “You
are
beautiful. And desirable.”
    Her legs trembled beneath her skirt. Her breath quickened. How could he know what she felt? How could he know she needed reassurance to anchor her?
    “What happens between us here, now,” he said, “will be separate from the rest.” He stared at her, eyes glinting. She could not read those depths, and was not certain she wanted to. “There is no espionage here. No memories. There’s only a man and a woman.”
    “Do you think that will stop the regret?”
    “No.” He set his hand against the curve of her waist. Fingers slipped over her velvet-clad hip. His touch was gentle, even wondering, as though his fingers touched a woman for the first time.
    Pleasure radiated through her body, starting at those light spots of pressure. Four fingers curved just around her side, a thumb pressed against her abdomen. She drew a deep, jagged breath as his touch moved up, thumb feathering over her belly. She let her head tip back, losing herself in the sensation of having a man’s hands on her. It had been so long.
So long.
    “I don’t care, just now,” she whispered. “I don’t care if I have regrets tomorrow.”
    Approval growled low in his throat. “I don’t care, either.” He gripped her hips with both hands. Harder now. He looked up at her and she thought again that he looked like a wicked angel. His sensuous lips curved in a grin. “Seduce me, then, Lilias.”
    Exhilaration coursed through her, centering between her legs. She would match the wickedness in that grin. Would bring it inside her. She needed something to fill that empty space within her. “As you wish, my lord.”
    Bracing herself on the arms of the chair, she bent and took his lips with hers. Softly at first, running her tongue against his lower lip. They did not touch anywhere else, simply their breath mingling, lips meeting. His mouth opened, so she danced her tongue against his. He tasted of brandy and of man. Of the forbidden.
    He drew her in, sliding his arms around her back and bringing her close so she sat on his thighs. Heated fingers played with the bare skin at the nape of her neck. She could feel each place where they touched as though a brand lay between them. Buttocks to thighs, fingers to back, lips to lips. Her hand cupped his cheek as she angled the kiss. Stubble roughened her hands, the rasp of it tingling her skin.
    How could the need for a man be so primal? But it wasn’t just a man. If it was not Angelstone, it would not be anyone. Not just now.
    “I need—” She didn’t know how to name this
thing
that gripped her. It left her vulnerable and yearning. “Make love to me.”
    She felt his control snap. It whipped through his body like a blade through the air, whistling quick and sharp. His hands suddenly molded her breasts, his teeth nipped at her lips. She fisted her hands on the lapels of his coat and matched his fervor with her own. Insistent mouth, demanding tongue. She plundered, taking his mouth with all the hunger washing over her.
    It was not enough. She wanted to feel his skin, to feel the weight of him above her. To be filled by him. Deft fingers released the buttons of his jacket and splayed it open. The buttons of his waistcoat followed before she yanked his shirt from his waistband. Running her fingers across the hard planes of his stomach, she reveled in the feel of hot skin stretched tight over muscle. She had not touched a man this way in two years. That was a long time to be alone.
    Angelstone’s head tipped back and he groaned as she moved her hands beneath the shirt. A quiver of muscle, the jagged edge of his breath. Ah, that was desire. That was need. Her hands moved up