Sinful by Charlotte Featherstone Page B

consumed us. Say yes, Jane,” he murmured as he began to gently suck the tender, supple flesh of her throat. “One word, Jane… yes. ”
     
    Her heart was racing at a dangerous pace. Jane felt the pulsations bounding in her throat, felt the tightening of herbodice against her breasts. Her breathing was coming in short, sharp pants as her body, which was no longer her own, trembled like that of a newborn fawn.
    She could not hide her response to him. She had not expected this so soon, nor had she thought to allow him to remove her veil. But it was shadowy, the afternoon grew late, and with the black clouds and the rain, it was dark. With the blinds closed it was like midnight in the carriage.
    An absurd sense of relief flooded her. She had removed her spectacles while she waited for him to come to her, and in the dark, she could be the kind of woman he desired. The kind of woman she had fleetingly wished she was.
    As his lips and tongue blazed a path down her neck, and his hands began to search her body, Jane was stunned by the thought that it was all really happening. Although she had thought of him nonstop this past week, and dreamed of him, she had thought never to see him again. But it was true. She was here with him. His hands truly were on her flesh. It was really his breathing she heard, his lips she felt kissing her cheek. She felt the heat of his gaze travel lower, away from her face, and fix on the bounding pulse in her throat. She knew she was right about that heated gaze when he reached out to put his fingertip to her neck. Pressing toward her, he inhaled once, softly, almost imperceptibly, then again, deeper. The leather squabs creaked as his body shifted, and Jane felt her own body grow limp and warm as he pressed his face against her. Then his lips were brushing against the quivering pulse that leaped with his touch. A deep sound resonated in his chest.
    “I thought to talk with you, Jane, to woo you, but I have no skill at it. I haven’t the words to make polite conversation. Need has robbed me of speech. I need you, Jane,” he said in a dark, fevered whisper.
    She didn’t want to talk. She wanted him to touch her, tomake her feel the way he had that night when he had bared her breasts and touched them. Besides, she didn’t trust herself to speak.
    “Jane, I want to be with you— in you.”
    “Yes,” she murmured huskily. She worked up the courage to unclench her hands, which rested in her lap, and rake her fingers through the luxuriant softness of Matthew’s hair.
    Her lips trembled as both his big hands stroked the sides of her neck, caressing her with soft sweeps. Slowly his palms descended the length of her throat and back up again, his thumbs brushing her wildly beating pulse. Closing her eyes, Jane weakened and tilted her head farther back, her lips parting just enough to allow the barest movement of air between them. He groaned and she felt the smooth tip of his finger trace her bottom lip. “Innocent, perfect lips. Such perfection,” he whispered darkly, stroking his thumb along her mouth. “I want to feel them beneath mine. I want to feel them sliding along my body. I want my cock between them.”
    Her stomach flipped and she clutched his hair, forcing his head down to her mouth. Jane savored the slow descent of his mouth to hers, felt his lips part and settle atop hers. It was wonderful, intimate, almost as if he was treasuring her. His lips pressed once more against hers, then he angled his head and kissed her over and over with his hot open mouth, a mouth that was hungry and devouring and causing havoc not only with her body but with her mind, as well.
    She couldn’t think, her head was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, as if she were drugged, disembodied. She was conscious of the moan that escaped her when he slanted his mouth against hers, encouraging her to open for him.
    “Let me in. Let me taste you.”
    He parted her lips and slid his tongue deep inside. He groaned and