Page 105

A wicked glint appeared in Ian’s eyes, followed by his charming smile. He sat up, took off his coat, and threw it onto the chair by the bed. Then he spread his arms wide, in invitation. “Would you like to do the honors?”

Helen bit her lip and nodded, moving closer to the man before her.

He was so large and strong, perched on his knees before her like a god, his muscles rippling beneath his clothing, and yet she was the one in full control.

Helen slowly reached out and undid his cravat, letting it fall onto the bed before leaning in and kissing the newly exposed skin. Gooseflesh covered Ian’s skin as soon as her lips made contact and his pulse violently drummed at the side of his neck.

Helen felt the power rising within her. This man, this sinfully gorgeous man with the body of a Roman god was unraveled by her single touch. She covered the place where his pulse thumped with her lips and licked his salty skin.

Ian’s arms wrapped around her form, and he pulled her closer as his fingers curled into the fabric of her gown.

Helen moved lower and kissed the hollow at the base of Ian’s throat as her shaking fingers went to undo the buttons of his waistcoat. She pushed it down his shoulders and returned her lips to his, biting them, licking into his mouth, and sipping on his soft, succulent lips.

She reached for his shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons, the excitement making her frantic. Ian’s hands were now in her hair, his fingers tangling in her locks, tugging on them as he kissed her deeply.

Helen couldn’t concentrate, her attempts to rid him of his shirt proving fruitless.

“For heaven’s sake, just rip it,” Ian croaked, his voice laced with pain.

Helen looked at him with a question in her eyes, and he kissed her before growling against her lips, “Just rip the damn shirt, I want your hands on me already.”

Helen let out a chuckle, and Ian tightened his arms around her, pulling her flush against his body. She could feel his arousal pressing against her belly, and it burned her skin, even through the layers of their clothing.

“You find my suffering funny, don’t you, vixen?” Ian growled again.

Helen cupped his cheek, the evening stubble pleasantly rubbing against her palm. “I find it wondrous that you crave my touch as much as I crave to touch you.”

“Then touch me,” he whispered before he turned his face and kissed her palm.

Helen took a deep breath and ran her hands down his chest. She grabbed the opening of his shirt and tugged it apart. The sound of buttons ripping and falling onto the floor made her giddy, but her eyes were glued to Ian’s chiseled chest and abdomen.

She slowly touched his skin with her fingertips, and his muscles jumped in reaction. Helen grew bolder and pressed her palms just below his chest, and Ian threw his head back, letting out a guttural groan. Her fingers grazed the rough hairs on his chest, feeling the heat emanating from his skin.

She ran her hands up and over his shoulders, ridding him of the remnants of his shirt and feeling the rough terrain of his body. He was hot and hard to her touch. His muscles bunched and jumped beneath her fingers, igniting her desire to feel more, to touch more.

Helen pressed her lips against his collarbone and proceeded to kiss every little patch of his skin she could reach. Her hands traced his abdomen and then moved lower. Her fingers explored his kilt before dipping under it and grasping his thigh. It was as hard as steel and as hot as fire, burning her fingers and heating her from the inside out.

Her lips still on his chest, moving lower and lower along his body, her palm slid up his thigh until she finally reached her prize.

Ian’s groan was laced with agony and relief, feelings that resonated deep within Helen’s soul as her fingers enveloped the base of his cock. She let out a sigh, finally holding him in the palm of her hand, satisfaction mixed in with the desire for more.

She moved her hand, marveling at the feeling of silky skin over a steely shaft that burned in her hand, igniting her passion and soothing her at the same time.

She felt agitated and on edge, sweat lining her skin and making her want to get rid of her clothing. She raised her eyes to Ian’s face, to find him staring at her with a scalding gaze.

Helen wanted more. Her hand kept exploring his aroused length as she leaned in and bit him on his neck.

“Enough,” Ian growled and tugged her away from his body.

Helen whimpered in confusion and need, her eyes pleading with him to continue. He kissed her then, hard and demanding, but a few moments into the kiss, his lips gentled, his tongue soothing her rioting nerves.

They were both breathing heavily when he finally pulled away. “It’s my turn.”

Chapter 26

Helen wanted to memorize every moment of that night. She wanted every touch, every kiss, every sound seared into her brain so she could go back to it in her darkest hours and replay it in her mind.

But the moment he took over control, and the heady lovemaking clouded her mind. She was drunk on passion and him, and she could not keep up with the feelings assailing her.