Page 88 of Almost A Scoundrel

“I feel on fire,” she said with a slight moan.

The delight he received from each little sound that parted her lips was unrivaled. Like sparks of lightning shooting down his spine. She made him feel like a hero. A saint.A knight.

Her response to his touch inflamed him, spurred him on to thrust harder, deeper into her.

“Marcus,” she cried. “I...”

“It’s all right love, let it go. Surrender to the flames.”

He sensed her near her climax and found the little nub of her sex, stroking it with his thumb. Teasing. Enticing. Urging her to let go of the reigns, to trust in something so much more magical, and bigger than whatever obstacles they feared to face.

She bucked wildly beneath him.

He quickened his pace while holding a steady rhythm with his fingers.

“Come for me, Phaedra.”

Deerhurst couldn’t take his eyes away from her as he watched her lips part and her face flush with pleasure. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. He had done that. He had put that look on her face.

And then her entire body contracted around him. She called out his name, the sound so lush and sinful, Deerhurst’s pace took on a wild pounding. He grunted, his control snapping as he drove into her until her voice turned to a rasp and he too called her name upon finding spell-weaving pleasure in her arms.

He brought his mouth down on hers, his tongue demanding entrance as he filled her with a shudder. Her hands circled his neck as she kissed him back. His whole body trembled.

He couldn’t stop kissing her. Couldn’t stop his hands from touring her body. His entire life he had waited for her. He knew that now. Understood it deep within his heart.

Deerhurst held her tight, vowing he would never let her go.

Chapter Sixteen

Phaedra woke tothe most delicious sensation between her legs. A unique, almost wonderful prickle with a slight touch of soreness. Evidence of a woman well loved. She loved this feeling. She could very well become addicted to this sensation.

To this man.

Oh, who was she fooling? She had long since become hooked on him. He was her drug. But not like the horrid wine she had consumed at the masked ball. No, this was very different. Surreal, almost. When with him, she experienced a euphoric alignment in every one of her senses. When she was not with him, everything inside her twisted out of order down to the marrow of her bones.

It still amazed her how sometimes the smallest step in the wrong direction could turn out to be the greatest step of your life. And one had to give credit where credit was due.

Thank you, Puck.

Phaedra grinned and stretched out her limbs before snuggling up against Deerhurst’s bare chest.

He was warm, like a furnace.

Flushing for no other reason than recalling those wonderful memories, she hadn’t thought she’d be able to move after the scene with Deerhurst in his study. Luckily, she didn’t have to, for he had lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bed. Where, she was almost ashamed to admit, she hadn’t gotten that much rest. The man had been insatiable. So had she.

She was a woman ruined.

How utterly delightful!

Phaedra had fallen hopelessly in love with the man beside her. She couldn’t deny it even if she wanted to. Her body gave her away. The beat of her heart. Her thoughts. Everything pointed at Deerhurst.

She also couldn’t be entirely sure, but she was fairly certain he felt the same way about her. And to think, she’d have been perfectly happy to venture into spinsterhood while raising her future cat family with Puck.

She inwardly snorted.

Spinsterhood with cats? She must have lost her mind. She’d have missed out on Deerhurst.This. Having tasted passion she never imagined even existed, she could no longer be content without it. Or, more aptly, themanbehind the passion.

Cats couldn’t give her this. They’d still have cats, but cats with Deerhurst were so much better than cats without him.