The Magic of His Touch (May Day Mischief) by Barbara Monajem Read Free Book Online

color in the dark, it proves I noticed them earlier.
And fine long flaxen hair.”
    He slipped the ribbon off the tangled mess of her hair and ran
one large warm hand into it. Meanwhile his lips meandered to her ear, her jaw,
her throat. She’d failed miserably at reversing the magic, but it didn’t seem to
matter so much when his lips pleasured her this way. She closed her eyes and let
her head fall back, swept away by the joy of his kisses. Her mouth fell open of
its own accord, wanting his...
    “And soft pink lips, begging to be kissed.” His lips wandered
slowly upward, then lingered at the corner of her mouth, so hot and enticing, so
close and yet so far.
    Kiss me , then ! She couldn’t
wait. She turned her head and took his mouth.
    He chuckled low in his throat, and then they were wrapped in
one another’s arms, kissing and kissing. She stretched against him, every inch
of her pressed to his long, hard chest and thighs. They fit together
perfectly.
    Her breasts tingled with awareness, demanding his attention. He
seemed to know, for one hand moved to cup her breast through the fabric of her
gown. Gently, his thumb rubbed her nipple, and it responded eagerly, hardening
under his touch. He eased the fabric down, and cool night air swirled over her
bare skin.
    “Such sweet, perfect breasts,” he said, taking her into the
heat of his mouth, teasing with his tongue, suckling gently, moving to lave the
other breast, as well.
    She knew they weren’t perfect—nothing about her was perfect—but
in the face of such adoration she shut away the truth and arched toward him,
bathed in the pleasure wrought by his hands and his tongue.
    Oh, his hands. They slipped under her skirt, sliding between
her thighs, and an urge she’d never imagined told her to spread her legs, to
open to him, to wrap herself around him, to become his entirely and...
    No ! She jerked away, closing her
legs tight together, ashamed and horrified at the wild throbbing. “Why am I
doing this? Why are you ? You’re Lucasta’s
betrothed.” She rose to her knees, aghast at herself and at him.
    He lay back on his coat and smiled up at her. “No, I’m
not.”
    Halfway to her feet, she stopped. “What do you mean, you’re
not?”
    “It’s not a real engagement,” he said. “Just an arrangement
between us until she’s twenty-five and comes into her inheritance. After that,
we’ll go our separate ways.”
    “Oh.” Suddenly, much of what had bothered her about Lucasta
made sense—the lengthy engagement and postponements, the lack of interest in
spending time with her fiancé when in London, the un-lover-like air about them
when he’d arrived and at dinner. “Why?”
    “We both wanted to escape the pressure to marry,” he said,
taking hold of one of Peony’s hands and then the other. He caressed the delicate
area between fingers and thumb, sending tiny tremors to her core. “My mother was
determined that I should wed and kept parading the latest eligible women in
front of me. Lucasta wished to remain single and pursue her scholarly interests,
but her uncle wanted her married and off his hands.”
    Peony understood only too well, except she was one of the women
being paraded and constantly told what to do. Often she’d wished for even a
little independence, a little right to order her own life. “Once Lucasta has
control of her money, she’ll have the freedom to do as she pleases.”
    “That’s right.” He pulled her down to him again. “Feel how much
I want you.” He didn’t wait for her to scramble awkwardly atop him, but lifted
her by the buttocks and lowered her.
    Peony gasped, surprised by the firm length of his member
beneath her. She’d seen dogs, of course, and horses, but she’d never really
thought about the size of a man... He took her by the hips and ground himself
against her, and she moaned, a drawn-out, wanton sound.
    He chuckled again, the low sensuality of his laugh resonating
within her, playing her. He kissed her