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“Oh, I will do so much more.”

He didn’t even let her think about more. He was alreadythere, his shoulders wedged between her thighs.

“James, what…?”

James let out a dark, satisfied sound that sent shivers down her spine. Then, he looked up at her. “I told you, My Lady. I need to taste how sweet you are.”

Diana was ready to protest, to say something—anything. This couldn’t be happening. Till it was.

His mouth was on her. She screamed. He growled against her, but he didn’t stop. He devoured her with long, torturous strokes.

Diana lost all control of her body. She arched her back and pressed her head into the soft pillows. Her hands flew to his hair, her fingers tangling into the brown curls as he teased her, leading her to something unfathomable.

He was drinking her in like a starved man, all his being devoted to her. His fingers were tight around her thighs to keep her exactly where he wanted her. The muscles in his back were tense as he struggled to keep himself in check.

She was lost, her modesty in shambles as his tongue teased her relentlessly. The air had rushed out of her lungs, and her heart couldn’t keep up with the rest of her body. She was climbing a peak that would kill her, yet she didn’t care.

“Yes!”

She could feel him smile against her, and she ground against his devilish lips. Higher, and higher, faster and faster, harder and harder. Her body was a bow ready to snap.

What was happening to her?

And then he didthatwith his lips.

Diana shattered. Her entire body bowed off the settee, her vision going white as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.

“James!” she screamed, shaking, writhing, gasping.

She was swimming in a sea of bliss, her body reduced to nothingness, unable to even blink.

James rose to his knees between her legs, his lips glistening. The look in his eyes was soft, warm. He leaned into her, his weight comforting. Then, he pressed his lips to her forehead, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles on her hip.

“Breathe, Diana,” he whispered, his voice rough with reverence.

Diana looked at him and mustered whatever strength she had left to cup his cheek in her hand. His eyes lit up, and he grabbed her hand and kissed the pulse on her wrist.

“By the way, My Lady.” He smirked. “You taste delicious.”

CHAPTER 17

Punching Bag

It had been days. Days. And James still couldn’t forget how she felt against him, how beautiful she looked against the velvet pillows, how intoxicating the way she trusted him to touch her where no one ever had.

And yet there was no way that he could get her out of his head. All his mind could do was replay that night, bring forth every curve of her body, the way her feminine and sweet scent filled the air, the softness of her skin.

All he could feel was her wet core, aching for his touch. All he could hear was how she gasped his name. And all he could taste was her skin, her juices. It was as if she was haunting him.

“Get out of my head, Diana,” he whispered.

Even now, in his copper bathtub, with steam swirling around, she was still in his mind. He had a hellish day, neck-deep in inspections and work, obligations and receipts. But she found a way to creep into his thoughts constantly. And now, as he almost drifted off from exhaustion in the hot water, she was there. Breathless and open for him. Her head dipped back, sighing his name. Her hands tangled in his hair, trembling as she unraveled against his mouth.

James exhaled sharply through his nose, his chest rising and falling too fast, too unevenly. It was maddening. But no matter how hard he fought it, he could still feel her.

“Blast it!”

He closed his eyes and threw his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His breath hitched as his hips shifted beneath the water—an unconscious movement, instinct taking over. His fingers twitched at his sides. His thighs tensed. His own body was betraying him.