Page 68 of Outrageous

He ignored the cacophony of inner voices that protested his actions, slid his hand around her delicate neck, pulled her close, and claimed her mouth with his.

This, my good man, is a dreadful mistake, a weary voice in his head told him.

Oh, don’t I know it.

Godric knew he should put a stop to this, yet the way her body melted against his stoked the blaze inside him. And when she opened under his onslaught, he thrust his tongue into her mouth, desperate to taste her, even though the responsible part of him—the part above the waist—knew he was behaving disastrously.

The moment he slid inside her she opened wider, her body softening and her arms clasping around his neck as she all but crawled up his body, making soft, mewling noises he’d never have suspected from such a fierce little thing.

Godric plunged deeper, sucking her delicious tongue, and shamelessly pulling her closer. The pleasure of exploring her was worth gritting his teeth whenever she inadvertently kissed or kneed or grabbed a bruise or injury—which was most of the time as he was a bloody mass of pain.

But the pain was worth it.

He lazily penetrated her sweet, hot mouth, using every tactic at his disposal to lure her into his own.

Clever clogs that she was, it wasn’t long before she was flicking her tongue daintily over his teeth and the sensitive skin between his lips and gums. When she was fully inside him, Godric took her tongue between his lips and sucked.

She made a delightful purring sound and rubbed her bottom against his aching rod, which felt bloody heavenly, but also brought him crashing to Earth: Christ! He’d have her pinned to the bed if he did not back away from the siren call of her body.

And would that really be so bad?

No, it would be delicious—for him—but Andrew or the Crosby woman could barge in at any moment. Godric swallowed his utterly inappropriate lust and pulled back, his cock aching just from a kiss.

She blinked in confusion, and he stared into eyes the color of hydrangeas, her body rising and falling with the rapid movements of his chest.

“I accept your apology, Eva,” he said hoarsely, “even though I don’t believe I deserve it.”

She swallowed noisily, her pink, swollen lips parted. “Er, apology?”

Godric waited, giving her time to come back to herself.

“Oh, apology.” She nodded several times, her eyes still lust-hazed. “Wh-why don’t you deserve it?”

Godric stared into her dilated pupils, wishing he’d not resumed this conversation. It was the last—no, the second-to-last—subject he wanted to discuss, but he felt like a heel to hear her apologizing for her behavior after everything he’d done.

“If I’d not behaved like an ass and a boor toward you and your family—especially your brother—” He swallowed hard. “Gabriel. Then you wouldn’t have needed to protect him and his new wife from me, would you?”

She opened her mouth and then shut it.

“What?” he asked, dreading the can of worms he might be opening, but owing her at least that much. “Say what you need to say.”

“Would you really have taken her? Drusilla?” she added, as if they both didn’t know whom she meant.

It wasn’t the question he’d been dreading—which was the source of his enmity toward Marlington to begin with—but it might actually be worse.

Godric pursed his lips and shook his head with genuine regret. “I don’t know, Eva,” he admitted, so ashamed of his behavior there should be a new English word invented to describe the feeling. “I feel as if I was in some sort of fugue before James called my name—it was as though he broke the spell, made me realize I was waiting in a rubbish alley to abduct another man’s wife.” Eva winced, but did not look away. “At that moment, I realized how madly I was behaving. But if James hadn’t shown up just then?” He shrugged. “I don’t know,” he repeated. “So, one way or another, you really did save your friend and brother. The next time you think this is all your fault—or even mostly—think again.”

He’d thought he would feel better when he’d got that part off his chest, but he just felt like an even bigger idiot as he looked into her eyes—so stormy and emotional a few moments before, but now cool, almost appraising.

He gave a dismissive flick of his hand, wanting to move on like the coward he obviously was. “I’d like to thank you for today—for taking care of me when I wasn’t able to take care of myself.”

Her lips curved slightly and he could see his words had pleased her. “You would have done no less,” she said, apparently forgetting that he was supposed to be protecting her. “Besides,”—she grinned suddenly, the action making his heart stutter—“Andrew really did do his share, which wasn’t easy wearing that dreadful dress.”

Godric smiled, and then realized that she, too, was wearing new clothing. “Whose dress is that?” He knew it couldn’t be Mrs. Crosby’s, as her clothing would have drowned Eva’s more delicate figure.

She grimaced and plucked at the skirt, as if just now remembering what she was wearing. “The maid—the girl who’s not here—keeps clothes at the inn for the nights she stays over.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Judging by the horrified way Mrs. Crosby stared at my clothing, I’m guessing I’ll never see it again.”

Before Godric could answer, the door opened. Andrew came striding in and then stopped in his tracks when he saw them together on the bed, his cheeks coloring. “Oh, I say. I guess I should have knocked first—”