Free The Earl With the Secret Tattoo by Kieran Kramer

wrong. Dear God, he was at her mercy. Love owned him. And not the other way around.
    Slowly, gently, he laid a kiss on her lips.
    And it was like coming home. He’d never felt so moved by a simple kiss, nor by the
     hunger he felt to be near her— this woman. No other.
    She let him caress her mouth with his own, part the seam of her lips with his tongue.
     He sensed her shyness. But then she was kissing him back—with warmth and passion—their
     hands gripping tightly, their tongues colliding as each explored each other.
    James reeled with pleasure, drunk with the knowledge that he’d move heaven and earth
     to make her his own.
    If she’d ever have him.
    If she ever would.
    Still kneeling, he pulled back, not wanting to take advantage of her riled state and
     afraid to build up his own hopes. Those, he knew, he couldn’t have—not so long as
     his mission in the Brotherhood went unfulfilled. And even if he were to succeed, who
     was he to hope when he knew all too well how easily tragedy could carry the day?
    But she reached out.
    Touched his forearm.
    Laid her hand on it.
    He looked down at that sweet hand enveloped in lace and then back up at her.
    “I—,” she whispered. And then swallowed.
    “You don’t need to say another word.” He stood and drew her hand up so that she was
     forced to stand, too.
    And then he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her the way he’d always wanted
     to, the full length of her soft, rounded body pressed against him. “You’re exquisite,”
     he said against her mouth.
    She gave a little moan in her throat and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.
    But very gently, he pulled them down. “Let me remove your cape. Please.”
    She cast her eyes to the floor. “Very well,” she said, her cheeks pink. “I’d like
     that.” And when she looked up at him, he saw that she desired him as much as he did
     her.
    Good God, he was a lucky man. There was no luckier man on earth.
    With careful fingers, he pulled the cape from her shoulders and cast it onto a nearby
     sofa.
    She stood before him, her body outlined by the light of the fire. He saw the dusky
     rose of her nipples beneath her night rail. And when he glanced farther down to bask
     in her beauty, he caught a glimpse of a darker shadow between her legs.
    He basked in the sight of her, queenly yet unguarded, and lifted her in one swift,
     sure motion to kiss her madly.
    Ahh, how perfectly she fit in the crook of his arm!
    Somehow, without looking, he managed to back up against the seat cushion of the chair
     she’d only just occupied and lower himself into it. All the while, their lips never
     came unlocked. She was snug in his embrace, where he wanted her to be, her soft, pliant
     breasts pressed against his chest, her fingers tangled in his hair.
    His hand caressed the curves that made up her hourglass figure, lingering at her waist
     and inching up until his thumb brushed lazily across the underside of her left breast.
    Her heard her intake of breath and ceased his explorations.
    “Don’t stop,” she whispered. Looking straight into his eyes, she put her hand over
     his and moved it to lie directly over her heart.
    He felt it beating wildly beneath his palm. His was just as fast, of course, and it
     didn’t help that she was sitting directly on top of his erection, her lush weight
     teasing him every time she moved even a fraction of an inch.
    He cupped her breast through the thin muslin. “Perfection,” he murmured back, and
     stroked her nipple.
    She arched into him, their kisses growing more heated, and he slipped his hand under
     her gown and caressed her calf. When his palm moved to stroke her thigh, she stopped
     kissing him a moment and looked up at him. “I’ve never done anything like this before,”
     she said. “Especially not with Baron Easley.”
    James laughed. “I knew Clare was blowing smoke. But I quite liked imagining you teasing
     the baron.”
    “I knew it!” she cried. “I could