Sinful Confessions by Samantha Holt Page B

rocked eagerly into that hardness while
her body inflamed with sensation.
    It
was almost too much. Hands cupped her. Muscle pressed against her. Lips and
tongue teased her. So many overwhelming sensations made her knees shake and she
had to cling to him lest she melt like candle wax on a hot day.
    Her
gown grew too heavy, too tight. She wanted it off. She needed to be skin to
skin with him. Hoping he might follow her lead, she slipped her hands between
them to pluck at the buttons of his waistcoat. She couldn’t help but giggle
when he released her to shuck out of his jacket and help her. Soon he was down
to his shirt. Her hands trembled with need as she unbuttoned it. His kept up
his firm kisses, laying his lips to wherever he could reach—her mouth, her
neck, her cheek, her forehead.
    Julian
tore off his shirt. A cufflink pinged off the bookshelf. Viola sucked in a breath
through her teeth and splayed her hands across his smooth chest. She glanced
down and noted the ripples in his abdomen and the small trail of hair leading
down into his pants. His skin was warm to the touch and muscles bunched under
her palms.
    But
he didn’t give her long to enjoy his body. Before she could fully explore, he
began fumbling with the neckline of her gown, loosening it so that it gaped.
With a muttered curse, he spun her around and gripped the back of it.
    In
one savage moment, he rent her gown apart. Viola released a squeal but couldn’t
ignore the pulsing throb between her thighs. He rotated her and tugged down her
gown, revealing her low corset and bare shoulders.
    “Forgive
me,” he murmured, though he didn’t sound terribly contrite.
    She
helped him shove her skirts from her hips and with the same brisk movement, he
had her corset and under things wrenched from her. A chill whispered over her
skin and her nipples peaked. In only her stockings and slippers, she felt
decadent and wanton in the most beautiful way.
    Not
for one moment did this feel sordid. Nor did she feel ruined. From the way his
gaze roamed her to how his chest rose and fell with deep breaths made her feel
treasured and valuable.
    Julian’s
upper lip lifted in a slight growl—a sort of masculine movement that set her
knees trembling. It was as though she was the most succulent meal on the table
and he had not eaten for weeks. And, oh how she wanted to be devoured by him.
    She
kicked off her slippers and peeled down her stockings, aware of him watching
her every movement while he unbuttoned his pants. By the time she had stripped,
he was standing naked in front of her. She might have giggled at his impatience
had his expression not been so dark and dangerous.
    Without
giving her time to think, he was upon her. Hard against soft. Crushing her to
him, consuming her. His kisses stole her mind. They stole her sanity. He
hitched her leg up onto his hip and pressed her back against the bookcase.
Shelves dug into her back but she didn’t care. The heat of his body eased away
any discomfort, and the harried touch of his hands quickly made her forget.
    Julian
thrust his manhood against her open quim. She bit back a cry. Never had she
wanted anything so badly in her life. Not even marriage to an English lord.
    “Please,”
she begged.
    He
hitched her leg higher and pressed kisses to her neck. His hips rocked forward
again but still his arousal only teased her.
    “Damn
it.”
    Julian
lifted her, drawing her legs around his hips and she thought he might take her
like that, pressing her back against the hard wood. At the same time as hoping
he didn’t, she wanted him inside her so much that she would have been willing
to accept any discomfort.
    However,
he carried her over to the fire and laid her down on her stomach on the soft
Persian rug in front of it.
    “I’ve
been wanting to see this arse for so long...” he said before pressing his body
over hers.
    The
rug tickled her breasts and stomach and his hot body covered her like a
blanket. He eased up her hips just a