The Devil May Care (Brotherhood of Sinners #1) by Lara Archer Read Free Book Online Page A

stays that lifted but did not cover the breasts. He smiled.
    That fabric could be a most effective weapon, in the right hands.
    His hands.
    He pressed his palm against her breast, shifting it slightly and sliding his thumb so the glossy silk moved along with his stroke, over the taut nub of her nipple. She nearly fell forward into him. Her hands clawed upwards over his back, and gripped the muscles of his shoulders.
    Hooking his index finger into her neckline, he kept up the stroking, pressure and silk, flicks and swirls, his other fingers kneading relentlessly, until her fingertips dug through his coat into his flesh. She swayed, leaning backwards, head thrown back. Still trailing kisses across her throat, he added his other hand to the subtle torture, claiming her other breast.
    Though, blazes , at this point, he itched to tear the damn fabric away entirely, to get his palms against the silk of her flesh itself, and touch her everywhere. He was hard as a steel rod now. He pressed himself against her, instinctively, alive with the need to lift her skirts and seek out the greater heat he knew he’d find there.
    Almost without his conscious intent, his right hand slipped from her breast and skimmed down over her belly, to that enticing V at the very top of her long legs.
    The silk slid freely under his hand, against her skin. She gasped, and then moaned again, louder. Her spine bowed, mashing her breasts against his chest. He let his hand play against her, at the joining of her thighs, just the slightest teasing pressure against her sensitive flesh, letting the silk do most of the work.
    Chancing a glance at her face, he found her eyes tight closed, her lips open and ripe. Her skin was flushed, deliciously rosy. Her expression half pained, half blissful. On the cusp of new and exhilarating knowledge.
    And he’d hardly begun with her yet.
    Had no one ever touched her, truly? Never given her even this little taste of pleasure?
    Good God, what fools she must have lived amongst.
    What a fool he was to have stopped and looked at her face. The sight made his head whirl, and he could scarcely remember where they were, or recall her name, or his own. He knew only that she was beautiful. Lush and desirable. Delectable. Soft .
    He bent down. He was . . . going to kiss her mouth.
    Before his lips could touch hers, though, she shifted in his arms. Her fingers eased from his coat. A new tension tightened the set of her jaw, her spine. She was gathering herself, steeling herself.
    She pulled away, letting her weight settle back on her own legs.
    Her eyes opened, and she looked at him.
    Her gaze was sharp and self-possessed again—if perhaps a little dazed around the edges. “Thank you, my lord,” she said with deliberate calm, as if he’d just brought her a glass of iced punch in a heated ballroom. “That was most useful.”
    “ Useful ?” He took a full step back.
    “The lesson. In pleasure.” Her breathing was not quite back to its normal rhythm, but her manner was decidedly polite. “Very helpful.”
    “Helpful?” He wasn’t quite sure whether to laugh, or grab her, toss her on the bed, flip up those silky skirts and teach her just how helpful he could be. He’d drive her over the brink a dozen times before he’d let her up again. “I’m always glad to be of service.”
    “You were right, you know,” she said. “There’s no reason to fear letting men close.”
    “Men?” His jaw clenched hard. He disliked that plural.
    She nodded cheerfully. “Perhaps we can continue the lesson another time. There must be more you can show me.”
    Blast it all . S he might have talked to her tutor in exactly this no-nonsense tone.
    She couldn’t be half as calm and cool as she sounded—the rosy hue still suffused her throat and cheeks and arms. The pulse beat hard in that lovely little hollow between her collarbones.
    He’d roused her, no doubt of that. Truly roused her.
    Of course, she’d roused him too.
    Damnation .
    His