One Night with an Earl by Jennifer Haymore Read Free Book Online

felt rough in contrast to the silky smoothness of her hair.
    He didn’t untie the ribbon, didn’t pull it off. Just kept his hand there, wrapped around her hair, as he continued tasting her. His other hand played with the small of her back, dipping just a bit lower to feel the plump flare of her buttocks.
    Nothing, nothing was like kissing Beatrice Reece. He wanted to grind his body against her. Get some relief from this unbearable pressure, this uncompromising need.
    He drew back from her a scant inch. “Be—” Hell. He caught himself just in time. “Persephone,” he breathed.
    She pulled him to her again and kissed him harder, her hands fisting his tight-fitting coat as she moaned into his mouth, slanting her lips this way and that as if she couldn’t get enough.
    He understood the feeling far too damn well. The masks were in the way. They were both wearing far too many clothes. There was no soft surface to lay her upon. The air out here, while fresh, would be about ten degrees too cool for her comfort while he did wicked things to her naked body.
    He kissed her, tasted her, used his tongue, took tiny sips of her lips. They moved in concert, anticipating each other’s movements as if they’d been kissing their entire lives. There was none of that bothersome nose-bumping, no clashing masks, no awkward knocking of teeth together. Their kisses aligned, meshed in a way that heated his already burning blood and hardened him to the point of pain.
    â€œI can’t…” she whispered against his lips, but she didn’t try to pull away.
    â€œCan’t what, love?” he murmured between kisses.
    â€œCan’t…call you Mr. Bull anymore. It’s…just…you’re not—” She whimpered as he nipped her lower lip. But he closed his eyes. He couldn’t give her his real name because while she might not remember his desire for her years ago, she would know who he was, and that knowledge might scare her. Knowing it was him would make this all too real, all too connected to her real life.
    She desired the fantasy of complete anonymity, so that was what he’d give her.
    â€œJust call me John, then.”
    â€œThat”—her breath whispered over his lips—“would be very forward of me.”
    â€œI want you to be forward, Persephone.”
    â€œDo you?” Her lips hovered over his for a moment; then she whispered, “Very well. John.” And her arms tightened around him again, and her lips pressed against his with renewed purpose.
    Her eager capitulation stunned him, but only for a moment. Even as his mind whirled, his body knew exactly what to do. And that was to take control of the kiss, deepen it. To sear her with the heat of his lips, to make her never forget…
    â€œAhem.”
    Beatrice jerked away from him, and he clawed through a haze of lust to scowl in the direction of the interruption. It was that deuced sheep-woman again.
    No…it was Madame Lussier. She gazed at them through her mask as if they were the most entertaining scientific specimens she’d ever had the pleasure of viewing.
    Beside him, Beatrice made a low sound of distress. Before he could think about how Madame Lussier would react to such an action, he took Beatrice’s hand and squeezed reassuringly.
    The older woman’s gaze flicked down to their joined hands. Then she looked at Drew, a smile spreading her lips wide. “Well, well, well. Do I know you?”
    Beatrice took a shaky breath.
    Drew opened his mouth to answer, but Madame Lussier raised her hand. “ Non . Do not tell me. It is clear that the two of you do not wish to be known.” She paused significantly. “Except by each other.”
    Beatrice’s fingers tightened over his.
    â€œNow. I am a creature who thrives upon the scandalous, my doves,” Madame Lussier cooed, “yet I am not one to spread rumors. However, if the two of you continue as