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He dipped his head and took her breast into his mouth, licking the dark areola, sucking deeply, savoring her taste. He moved to the other one as his fingers found the hem of her gown and began to draw it upward, slowly revealing the smooth skin of her calf… then her knee.

She trembled under his touch but didn’t stop him. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her back arching in invitation.

God, how he wanted her.

He wanted to lose himself in her. To thrust into her in one desperate motion. To feel her heat from the inside and spill himself into her depths.

His hands glided up her inner thighs, and she let out a low, guttural moan. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please… yes.”

Caldwell rose over her and kissed her deeply on her soft, sensual lips.

She pulled him close, fingers twisting in his hair, her tongue exploring his mouth—tickling, teasing, challenging him.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed her. Now.

He undid his breeches and pushed them low over his hips. Lifting her skirts, he pressed his cock to her warm, wet center—because she was indeed very wet—and they both moaned at the exhilarating contact.

He rubbed himself against the seam of her sex, gathering her slickness, marveling at the delicious friction.

“Yes,” he whispered. “You feel so good.”

He positioned himself at her entrance, the head of his cock slick with her desire—

When the curtain suddenly swung open, and a woman stepped confidently into the room. “My lord, I apologize for the delay—”

The woman’s smooth, sensual voice sliced through the fog of lust like a blade.

Caldwell jerked upright, yanking down the woman’s skirts to cover her most intimate parts, though he remained fully exposed.

The intruder, wearing the white wig favored by the harlots of Hades’ Hell, and a scandalously revealing gown, cast her gaze downward, tilted her head, and licked her lips.

The woman beneath him scrambled to sit up, struggling to pull her bodice over her lovely breasts.

When the intruder finally raised her eyes to his, she said, “My apologies. I must have the wrong room.”

She turned and walked out, but not before casting one last glance at his still-throbbing cock.

In the chaos, his lover had managed to slip away. She had gathered her skirts and darted toward the door.

He reached for her instinctively—but she was too fast, and his breeches were still undone.

By the time he’d fastened his falls, she was gone. Vanished into the crowd, leaving behind nothing but the memory of her kisses.

* * *

Honoria fled down the corridor, her heart pounding so violently she feared it might burst from her chest.

What had she done?

What kind of madness had possessed her?

She ducked into an alcove, pressing herself against the cool stone as she tried to catch her breath, to slow the wild racing of her pulse, and to pull her gown back into something resembling a respectable state.

Her lips still tingled from Caldwell’s kisses, her skin still burned where his hands had touched her, and a strong pulse throbbed low in her center. She was breathless, hot, and… wet.

She would have given herself to him if that woman hadn’t interrupted. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Not when she had waited so long to know what it would feel like to be in his arms, to be the focus of his desire.

She closed her eyes, remembering the way he had whispered that she was beautiful, the way his hands had moved over her with such tenderness. For those few moments, she had been his—not a household employee—but a woman desired for herself alone.