Page 71 of The Lady is Trouble

“Piper,” he whispered against her lips, “wait.” He shifted, allowing just enough space between them to pass a sheet of parchment through. “If I agree to this, the League, complete involvement, you must promise me. You must give me your solemn vow.” Giving her a gentle shake as if he sought to anchor his plea in her mind, he said, “If they come for you, for once in your life, play along. I’ll need time to find you, and your gift will provide it. Do you understand? No rebellion.”

She nodded as his fingertips dug into her shoulders, and he gave her another shake. “You are mine to protect. Deny me this, and you deny who I am, who I cannot help being.”

“I belong to no one,” she whispered, wishing it were so.

With a hissing rebuttal, he tugged her to her feet. An unsteady glide along cool plaster, breath tangling, skin heating. “You belong tome.” Keeping one hand on her, he turned, kicking the door shut and throwing them into delicious blackness. “You always have.”

That’s true,she agreed,but you aren’t going to keep me.

Concern vanished as he crowded into her, his hands crafting her like clay until fantasy and reality merged. Pulse points of pleasure and blind longing in the shadowed bliss. She bounced on the balls of her feet to get closer while whispering rough commands against his lips. In response, he caught her bottom and slid her high using the wall as a guide. Then he settled in, drawing her legs around his waist, the perfect solution to their height challenge. She moaned as his rigid shaft claimed it’s favored spot between her thighs, where he began stroking until thought vaporized like fog hit by a sunbeam.

“I’m ready,” she whispered against his neck, then bit him gently beneath the ear to put an exclamation point on the announcement.

Testing her assertion, he worked his hand beneath her skirt, tunneling past the slit in her drawers, a swift entry into her moist, warm reach. Jamming his knee against the wall for leverage, he captured her lips beneath his as his fingers and tongue began to move in time. Not the easiest task, but she got a hand to his trouser close and started to flip buttons. He not only shifted to help, the sounds coming from him werewildlyencouraging. What little restraint he had seemed lost.

While she’d never had any in the first place.

Buttons released, his cock sprang into her hand. She passed a thumb over the bulbous head, once, twice, as he broke the kiss and pressed his brow to hers, his breath a steady cadence across her cheek.

Heavens, she loved witnessing Julian Alexander going up in flames.

He caught her lips again as he worked her legs higher on his hip. Amazingly, he had her weight held entirely between his arm and the wall.

“I’m too…heavy,” she whispered, head falling back as he inched the tip of his cock inside her. The feeling was so different than their previous encounters, a profound invasion, abrasive. She felt an animal caught in a trap, and the powerlessness was incredibly arousing.

He rocked into her, his hair catching between the damp press of their cheeks. “You’re”—he groaned as he embedded himself fully, then with a twist of his hips, somehow gained deeper entry—“you’re a dream.”

Tilting her pelvis, he fell into a steady, pounding rhythm. Thoroughly entrenched, his hand rose to cradle her head as he thrust. Protective Julian. She fisted her fingers in his hair, drawing him to her. She wanted him closer when he couldbeno closer.

Julian palmed the wall, the muscles in his arms clenching. “Sweetheart, I can’t…last much longer.”

Again, he angled her hips, and she gasped. A brilliant burst exploded behind her lids, fireworks in a night sky. Words were impossible; she could only emit broken sounds of pleasure.

“Anyone could find us,” he offered, his breath a molten wash. “My sliding into you. You dripping wet all over me.”

His erotic words and the thrill of what they were doing and where they were doing it sent her over the abyss, her climax arriving so forcefully that for an instant, she felt faint. Spots colored her vision as she convulsed around him, her head dropping to his shoulder in defeat, her moan muffled against his lapel.

The final pulses shimmered through her as Julian stroked harder, persuading her body to give of itself fully, leaving nothing untold. Capturing her lips, his groan filled her throat as he crested. With a final stroke, he disengaged, releasing in a handkerchief she’d had no idea he held.

In the hallway, a clock struck a quarter-hour tone, which should have startled them, but they barely reacted. Finally, with a press of his lips to her brow, Julian slid her down his body. Leaning, he kissed her, his hands coming up to frame her face as if he couldn’t—not quite yet—release her.

When skin was cool and breathing restored, they separated, arranging clothing without speaking.

Frankly, she had no clue what to say.

Again, please.

Standing up is as stimulating as lying down.

Julian turned, then turned back, threading his fingers through hers. Lifting their linked hands to his lips in a gesture of silence, he cracked the door and peeked into the hallway. A band of light splashed his face and one broad shoulder. Her gaze took him in hungrily. Hair disheveled, cravat a disaster. His cheeks held a detailed narrative of what had occurred behind a closed,but not locked, door. And his aura.Ah. She took a step back, her hand falling to her belly to calm her racing pulse.

Streaks of blue and bold bursts of lavender. Contentment and hope, though she suspected Julian would question the latter.Trust your instincts, she wanted to tell him.

However, with this man and this situation, patience was her friend.

If she were patient enough to let it be.

“It’s clear,” she said when she wanted to smooth the curl jutting past his ear. Place her mouth over the patch of stubble his morning shave had missed.