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He licked and nipped and wrapped his lips around the rosy peaks, torturing her. Diana was trembling in his arms, and he had just started. She was so responsive to his touch, as if she was born to be in his arms, pressed against him.

“How very, very sweet,” he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with satisfaction.

His tongue did wicked things to her, lapping at and licking each peak with slow, torturous strokes. When he bit her lightly, she sobbed his name, her fingers savagely pulling on his hair.

His hand slowly trailed down her chest, over her stomach, and stroked her waist while he continued worshipping her breasts. Her whole being was tense in the loveliest way, arching into his mouth, pulling him closer.

James pulled her leg up and reached down to her ankle while giving attention to her neck, making sure her exposed breasts were squished against his chest. Diana dared to demand more, her hands fisting in his shirt. She dared explore more, andJames obliged her. He pulled back slightly to tear his shirt off his body and give her the access she longed for.

At the sight of his bare torso, the defined, sinewy expanse, the dark hair that peppered his chest and his taut abdomen, her breath caught.

“Touch me, Diana,” he whispered against her lips.

“I…”

“It’s only fair, My Lady,” he teased.

He planted a feather-light kiss on her lips. On her jaw. On her neck.

“Touch me.”

Diana shivered, but her hands slid up his arms slowly, only her fingertips touching him. Nowhisbreath caught at that simple, light touch. She stroked his shoulders as he sucked on her skin, licking that sensitive spot behind her ear. Then, she let her palms wander over his chest, her heat setting him ablaze.

He gritted his teeth, barely holding back.

“God, Diana,” he hissed.

The desperation in his voice only egged her on. Her hands roamed over his chest, tentative at first but then bolder, exploring the lines of his muscles and the fine dusting of hair that led below his waistband.

If James let her continue her exploration, the night would end up completely different from what he had planned. No matter how he craved to take her, to be lost inside her, he wanted to see her undone more.

He lifted her slightly and gently laid her on the settee, her back on the soft pillows. He caged her with his body, and she spread her legs on instinct.

“You are so beautiful, Diana,” he purred.

“James, I feel so…”

“If it’s too much?—”

“No!” She grabbed his shoulders for fear he would pull away.

He looked upon her, and his heart soared.

Diana was beautiful. No, she had always been beautiful. Like this, with her hair spread over his velvet pillows, her lips swollen from his kisses, her milky breasts catching the warm firelight, and her eyes heavy-lidded with desire, she was a goddess—adivinegoddess—and he was a mere pilgrim to her beauty.

And he was going to worship her.

CHAPTER 16

Silky Touch

Diana looked up at him. He was hovering above her, bare-chested. The flames in the fireplace cast sharp shadows on the angles of his face, making him look so dangerous. The way his eyes bored into hers, heavy, consuming, made her stomach flip.

She was a mess. A trembling, shaking, panting mess. Her limbs were weak, her nerves alight with something she could barely name—something deep and aching, something that coiled tighter the more he touched and kissed her.

“I want to show you, Diana,” he growled. “Ineedto show you.”

“Show me?” She was dazed.