Her Wicked Proposal novel Chapter 23

Anne focused on Cedric's face, secretly enjoying the wealth of emotions that flitted across his features as he told her the story. "You don't think the Arab will return for you, do you?"

Cedric smiled. "He left London shortly after he delivered the mares to me. He simply had to make a show of pride before he left, and I had to respond in kind. It is the way of things when the stakes are so high."

He showed more animation than she'd seen from him since he'd gone blind. For a brief few minutes he'd been the old Cedric again, the one who...

Anne shook her head, dispelling thoughts of the past, thoughts that stung too deeply.

"You men and your pride. Is there nothing else that matters to you?"

Cedric's deep laugh poured over her. "Oh, my dear, you bait me with your innocence by asking that."

"What do you mean?"

Cedric cupped her chin and tilted his head down in reply, finding her lips with ease. Anne stiffened as his tongue traced the seam of her lips. Her hands fisted against his chest, as she went rigid in his lap.

Cedric pulled his mouth away to whisper, "Don't forget what you promised, Anne. Don't turn to ice in my arms, love." He brushed his nose against her cheek. "Please, my heart, don't shut me out."

His coaxing words tugged her down the slope of desire. It was more than lust, more than carnal craving. She might have been able to stop herself, to keep herself from surrendering, if he hadn't dipped his mouth to her neck and nipped her skin, following it with a slow, teasing lick. The sharp but light sting of his teeth sent a wave of pleasure through her. Anne lost control and melted in his lap.

Cedric growled low as she let herself go limp in his arms and trembled at his kisses. He reached out to the side of the settee, gauging the distance to the other side before he slowly tilted Anne back to lie beneath him. He slid her skirts upward, pushing them into a pool around her hips. Then he palmed her knees, before gently nudging them apart. She should have clamped her thighs together, but instead she threw her head back and let her knees fall apart.

"Are...the Arabian mares here in London?" Her voice was breathless, and Cedric rubbed himself harder against her, wanting her silent save for cries of pleasure. But he fought off a smile when she struggled again to repeat her question. His woman certainly did love horses.

"No. They're in Brighton." He nuzzled her neck before biting down hard without warning, like a lion holding his female still for mating. She gasped in surprise, her fingers digging into his shoulders clawing him, not to release her but to hold him to her body. Cedric felt ready to roar. He'd found her weakness, that smooth delicious neck. Every woman had a secret spot that would drive them wild, make them senseless. Men had fewer such spots, obviously, but as a rake, Cedric had learned early on that finding a woman's pleasure point was the key to success, both for her enjoyment and his own. Having found Anne's, he would be merciless.

"Brighton? Why Brighton?"

Damn, the woman still has enough sense to talk? I've been out of practice too long. Cedric sank his teeth into the skin between her neck and shoulder, his hands sliding along her sides, then up under her skirts to cup her bottom. He jerked her into him just as he rocked himself ferociously against her. Anne twitched and trembled with violent shivers, murmuring a startled exclamation he couldn't hear over the roaring of the blood in his ears. Damnation, the woman would be his undoing with her natural sensuality.

Never enough, I'll never get enough of her.