Page 60 of The Sound of Seduction (Miracles on Harley Street #4)

The corners of Stan’s lips softened as he stilled, his thumb tracing a lazy circle along the curve just above her hip, where the chemise still clung.

Her skin there was impossibly smooth, her body warm and alive beneath his touch.

He wanted to reassure her, to banish every shred of doubt from her mind.

“We don’t need to do anything more than this tonight if you don’t want to,” he said, his voice a steady, quiet promise. “May I just hold you, Wendy?”

*

Her name on his lips melted her restraint like ice under the warmth of his gaze—pooling and running away in rivulets from where his words had touched her.

The rasp of his voice, rough and reverent, ignited a fire in her chest that she couldn’t contain.

She exhaled shakily, not daring to trust her voice as she gazed up at him.

Everything about Stan—his sculpted shoulders, his unruly hair, his steady, smoldering eyes—unraveled her.

He was so much more than she’d told herself she deserved. He was everything.

And she wanted all of him in ways she could barely understand.

“Help me,” she plead. “I want you so deeply, it burns—” she gripped her chemise with one hand, and it wrinkled.

“My sweet Wendy,” he said and supported her, gently easing her into his lap again, guiding her with such care as though she were something sacred.

Her heart seemed to stop for a moment before it thundered back to life.

The strength of his hands, the deliberate way they settled at her waist, sent an ache rolling deep through her.

She felt small in his arms, but not fragile—cherished, held in place by his solid presence.

She sank against him, nestling her cheek against the warm skin of his neck, unable to stop her lips from grazing the space just above his collarbone.

How had she resisted this? Resisted him all this time?

She breathed him in deeply, that clean, masculine scent she already knew by heart. And when he kissed the crown of her head, his lips brushing softly as though marking her, it sent a shiver racing down her spine. Subtle yet electrifying. He made her want. Need.

She wanted more than safety and comfort.

She wanted her prince—the unyielding force of nature who drove every doubt from her mind.

Slowly, she shifted, sliding her legs over his thighs.

The warmth of his body blanketed her, grounding her as she repositioned herself to face him.

The hem of her chemise gathered high around her thighs, and the cool air only heightened her awareness of him—of every part of them touching.

Soft linen against heated skin. Her knees brushing his hips. Her chest pressing lightly against his.

“Wendy,” he murmured again, like he was savoring the resonance of her name. Like it belonged to him.

Her hands trembled slightly as she pressed them against his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath her fingertips.

Her gaze darted to his lips—those lips that had driven her thoughts all evening—and before she could stop herself, she tilted her face upward, claiming them.

At first, it was tentative, just a featherlight press, but her need swelled quickly, the restraint between them breaking like waves against the shore.

And while they kissed, he took her hand and guided her down to the hardness she’d not dared to touch.

He must have known or felt her hesitation, so he held her hand between both of his—his mouth never leaving hers, and he guided her to wrap her palm around his shaft.

Hard like stone but warm like the rest of him and covered in soft skin—a tantalizing and precious combination Wendy couldn’t explain.

But she felt him.

And oh, how she did!

But his kisses confused her and distracted her from the exploration.

His lips were warm and firm, and his kiss was intoxicating.

She sighed softly as he deepened it, coaxing her response, and she gave him everything.

Her fingers trailed to his shoulders, first tentative and then bolder, sliding into the soft, unruly strands of his hair.

She tugged him closer, feeling the low, guttural sound he made under her hands—a sound that deepened the ache pooling low in her abdomen.

His hands roamed her sides, fingertips brushing the barest edge of her ribcage, each touch sending a spark through her.

It wasn’t just the way he kissed her—his lips coaxing hers and his tongue stroking with aching deliberation—but the way he held her to him like she was the most precious thing in his world.

That thought alone had her gasping into his mouth, her breathing erratic as his lips left hers to trail along her jaw.

And somehow, she twitched on the inside.

When he grazed the sensitive hollow of her throat, her head fell back instinctively and she sank further onto his lap, giving him full access and relaxing her thighs.

His breath ghosted over her skin, and then his lips followed—soft, deliberate presses that made her toes curl.

She clung to his shoulders, consumed by a sensation so vivid she could hardly breathe.

“Stan,” she managed, her voice trembling, slipping past her lips before she even knew she’d spoken.

The way he stilled at the sound of his name—the reverence in his expression when his eyes met hers again—stole what little composure she had left.

The intensity in his gaze made her feel utterly known, utterly seen.

She cupped his face then, her palms framing the sharp angles of his jaw as she kissed him deeply once more.

She wanted to tell him everything she couldn’t say, to show him there was nothing of herself she wasn’t ready to give. “Help me.”

She held his member in her hand, close to her middle and even though she understood the mechanics, she was riddled by the sheer magnitude of what she couldn’t wait for and feared at the same time.

His hands tightened at her hips, guiding her even closer, and her body obeyed without thought.

She felt every inch where their bodies met, the heat of him searing through the thin chemise that still separated them.

The sensation left her trembling, desire coursing through her as his kisses grew deeper, hungrier.

His lips returned to hers, and her heart surged with each movement, each sigh he pulled from her lungs.

Nothing else mattered anymore. Not the worlds they came from or the obstacles that still waited for them. There was only Stan—the man she adored, the man she now knew she loved beyond reason—and the way his expression warmed like she was his whole world, too.