Page 40 of Road Trip With a Rogue (Her Majesty’s Rebels #3)

“Mine.”

Daisy twisted the doorknob to her room and stepped inside. Lucien followed, closing the door behind him with the faintest click, but instead of gathering her into his arms, he leaned back against the wood and let his gaze rove over her.

She felt his regard like a physical touch. Heat flashed over her skin and her nipples beaded against the silk of her nightgown.

“I’m still intrigued to know what differences you think there might be between a man who loves you and a man who only wants your body.” His gaze settled on her lips. “Take kissing, for example.”

He reached out and caught her wrist, pulling her to him with a faint tug. Daisy went willingly, her heart galloping at the brush of his robe against her chest.

Still loosely holding her wrist with his right hand, he lifted his left and stroked the side of her neck before threading his fingers through her hair at the back of her skull. His pupils were huge, his brown eyes almost black in the dim light.

“I think a man who loved you would kiss with his whole soul. As if you were the most precious thing in the world.”

He bent his head and kissed her, so softly it made her shiver. His lips barely grazed hers, nibbling and soothing, dancing so gently that she grew impatient. She pressed closer, but he pulled back, refusing to let her deepen the kiss.

Daisy groaned her frustration against his mouth, caught his lapels, and tugged him to her. His hand tightened in her hair as he increased the pressure, and his tongue finally slid against her own.

The world narrowed to where they touched, the languid swirl of his tongue. She hadn’t thought him a man who would enjoy kissing. Their previous kisses had all been hot and hungry. Delicious, but also urgent, a necessary step on the journey, and not a destination in themselves.

He kissed her now as if he had all the time in the world. As if he’d be happy to do this for hours, for days.

He tilted his head, slanting his mouth across hers at a different angle, scattering kisses on the side of her mouth, the tip of her nose, her chin, the center of her top lip.

Daisy felt as if she were floating, drowning in a sea of sensation. She kissed him back, holding nothing back, pouring her whole heart into her response.

His right hand came up to cup her jaw, his thumb stroking her cheek, then her lower lip, pulling it down to slide against the slick inner lining, and everything inside her turned molten.

This wasn’t a fast-burning flame, it was a slow, deliberate kindling, and when he finally pulled back, they were both slightly breathless. His eyes, so close to hers, seemed to glow with an inner fire.

“The problem with this little experiment of yours, Daisy, is that you’re not going to find any difference between me and a man who’s desperately in love with you.”

Daisy’s brain was pleasantly foggy, her body tingling with anticipation. Did he mean that he was such a good lover that he’d be able to feign the actions of a man in love? She wasn’t sure she cared about the experiment anymore. She just wanted to keep kissing him.

“Not enough of a comparison,” she mumbled. Her breathing was choppy, as if she’d run a race. “Need more.”

He made a deep, frustrated sound in his chest, half amusement, half irritation, and she almost laughed at the way she could affect him.

“More? I’ll give you more.”

He lifted her in one quick move, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, her arms sliding around his neck for stability.

Her robe slid open at the front and her nightgown rose up so her hot center pressed against his robe.

Her pulse leapt at the press of his iron-hard cock through the fabric, and his hands cupped her bottom as she wriggled against him.

He strode to the bed and followed her down onto the soft mattress. His hands roved over her, the silk providing a tantalizing barrier that allowed the heat of him to seep through but denied the ultimate satisfaction of skin-on-skin contact.

“This color is much better than pink,” he breathed.

His fingers slid from her hip to the dip of her waist, shaping her curves like a potter molding a vase on a wheel.

He traversed the bumps of her ribs, bunching the silk into ripples, then traced her collarbone.

He gave her a gentle bite on the side of her neck.

Daisy squirmed against him, desperate for more. As he raised himself on his arms above her, relieving her of some of his weight, his robe fell open to reveal the gorgeous expanse of his chest, and she brought her hands up to touch him with a smile of delight.

He really was the most magnificent specimen. His skin was hot, and the muscles of his abdomen tensed as she smoothed her palms down his taut belly taut and untied the sash at his waist to reveal him in all his naked glory.

She bit her lip. Could she really make him hers? Forever?

She wanted to.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and twisted her body sharply.

He toppled sideways, caught unaware, and she rolled on top of him, neatly reversing their positions.

It was a move she’d learned from wrestling with her brothers and even though she’d had the element of surprise, he could have countered the move if he’d had the inclination. Instead, he laughed.

She sat up, straddling his thighs, but not touching his cock. He reached up to cup her jaw again and she lifted her chin, baring her throat to him like a cat demanding a stroke, and his eyes flared with desire at the delicate balance of power.

“Daisy,” he breathed.

He sounded reverent, almost worshipful, and a shiver passed through her.

Holding his gaze, she straightened her spine, and his hand slid down to her sternum, between her breasts, then down over the soft plain of her belly. When he tried to move his hand lower, however, she shook her head.

“Not yet. It’s your turn.”

She shuffled backward, down his legs, and wrapped her fingers around his shaft.

He almost shot off the bed. His chin tipped up as he arched his back, and his hand clenched on the front of her thigh.

“Bloody Hell!” he gasped. “You don’t have to—I’m already—”

“You’re ready when I say you’re ready,” she teased.

His eyes narrowed and Daisy bit back a laugh. It would do him good to have a taste of his own medicine.

She stroked him, gently, loving the feel of him in her hand. He was big, and hot, bigger than Tom had been, and she savored the velvet-soft skin over rigid muscle.

“Vixen,” he breathed, his chest expanding with a deep inhale. “Keep that up, and there won’t be any more experimenting.”

She sent him a cocky smile and bent to press a kiss to the silken tip, then laved him with her tongue, and he let out a groan, curving up on the bed to prop himself up on one arm. She took him into her mouth, and he hissed out a breath as his hips jerked involuntarily.

“Daisy. God, that’s… fuck. Perfect. So perfect.”

He cupped the back of her head, threading his fingers through her curls, and she swirled her tongue over him as if she were licking cr è me br ? l é e from a spoon.

She moved up and down, taking as much of him as she could, loving the way his big body twitched and tensed under her gentle ministrations.

She released him with a final gentle kiss, and the slightly dazed look in his eyes gave her a shot of pure feminine delight. This man might make others quake in their boots, but here, now, he was hers.

She bent again, about to repeat the torture, but his fingers tightened and he shook his head.

“That’s quite enough of that.”