Free The Sins of Viscount Sutherland by Samantha James Page A

entice. To lure. But she’d never expected it would be like this. She sensed a fervent intensity in him that frightened her. The lights from the house revealed a glittering flame in his eyes, something utterly fierce.
    Mid-thought, his mouth closed over hers.
    This was nothing like their first kiss. The night at his home was merely a prelude compared to this. His embrace had been tame. This was impassioned. Fierce and urgent. His mouth seemed all-consuming. It seemed she tasted him everywhere, resonating through every part of her. She felt overwhelmed. She tasted . . .
    Possession.
    There was a dark, sweet pleasure in the way her mouth clung to his. Oh, God. Her heart went wild, even as a voice in her soul cried out in betrayal. How was it she could feel such pleasure with Oliver’s killer? Some small sound escaped. He swallowed it. Her lips parted beneath the hunger in his. He roused feelings in her she’d never thought possible. His tongue was searingly blatant. It demanded entrance, with a sweeping claim that shocked her even as desire spilled all through her. She remembered how he’d said the night of the play that he wanted to run his tongue along her lips and taste her wine.
    The arm around her back tightened. There was an odd, unfamiliar quiver low in her belly. Her hands came up and clutched at his shoulders. She registered heat. Strength. Hardness.
    The world around her spun. The sounds of the night slipped away. His mouth was demanding. Intent. Engulfed in darkness, engulfed in him, she struggled for breath.
    Somehow she’d thought it would be wholly in her ability to control him.
    What folly.
    She knew it the instant his mouth trapped hers.
    The fusion of their lips was raw and hungry. Panic surged. What would she do if he did not stop? That wasn’t part of the plan. Claire thought she had tasted passion. Need. The other night hadn’t prepared her for this. She hadn’t expected to feel like this. She hadn’t expected he would feel like this.
    His lips conveyed an urgent, compelling persuasion. The hand at her waist guided her into him. Against him. She was instantly aware of the hard, unmistakable press of male desire between his hips, thrust up against her belly.
    “I want to see you again,” he said. “Somewhere we won’t be interrupted. Somewhere we can be alone.” His mouth was on the side of her neck. “Meet me at midnight. Here.”
    Claire’s throat locked. Words were impossible. A stray hand slid her blouse from one shoulder.
    Deliberately, he touched her, his hand clamped boldly over the whole of her breast, his eyes delving deep into hers.
    With his palm, he circled her nipple. Again. And yet again. It was as if he touched her everywhere.
    Claire’s mind froze. Her mind was screaming. A hundred emotions swirled through her. Shock. Panic. The hope and prayer that despite his disreputable character he would remain a gentleman.
    And pleasure. Dear God, so much pleasure. In some distant part of her being, she was stunned that she could feel such a thing with this man.
    Her hand fluttered up to rest atop his. She tore her mouth away. “Please,” she said shakily. “Please don’t.”
    Slowly, he released her. But he stared down at her face, his eyes fever-bright. Claire dragged her blouse back over her bare shoulder. She lowered her gaze, trying to recapture her breath. She felt the weight of those crystal-bright eyes gazing down at her bent head. Her cheeks were flaming. Her scarf had come off; her hair spilled down her back. She was shaken, but she couldn’t let him see.
    Their eyes locked. A palpable tension hung between them. He picked up her ribbon—it was he who finally broke the silence.
    There was a faint and oh-so-maddening smile on his lips.
    “A pity, Gypsy lady. I was so looking forward to a midnight assignation.” He paused. “Another night, perhaps?”
    Claire’s jaw snapped shut. He dared to mock her! A fury unlike any she’d ever known seized hold of her.
    If it was a