Free Too Tempting to Resist by Cara Elliott Page B

pressed in, urging her lips apart with a probing thrust, Eliza flinched, but only a fraction. Then she drew him inside, enveloping him in a soft, suckling sigh. A dizzying warmth wrapped itself around him, the surge of sweetness far more intoxicating than any wine.
    Their tongues teased and twined. She was kissing him—eagerly, exuberantly.
    His self-control splintered into a thousand tiny shards.
    The thump of glass hitting the carpet was lost in the surging thrum of his blood as he shifted his position, spreading his knees wider. The night breeze wafted in from the window, its sweet-scented coolness curling against the back of his thighs. The rest of his body was afire.
    Dragging his mouth down, down, down, he traced the line of her jaw, the arch of her neck, seeking the pulse point in the hollow of her throat. Her skin was throbbing, each wild little twitch sending fresh heat spiraling to his groin.
    She gave a tiny cry, hardly more than a whisper.
    In answer, Gryff slid his hands over her hips and crushed her close. God, she felt good.
    His lips tingling with the taste of her, he couldn’t help himself. The taut fabric outlined the plump, perfect roundness of her breasts, the tantalizing tips of her nipples.
    He lowered his head and took the nearest one in his teeth.
    Inhaling with a ragged groan, Gryff drew the bud in. Her scent flooding his nostrils, he nibbled and suckled, feeling the point grow hard beneath the damp fabric.
    A ragged breath—a rasping sound—slipped from Eliza’s lips. Was it a word? A plea? His senses were pounding with all sorts of conflicting messages—his head was drumming in warning, his heart was thumping in pleasure, his groin was throbbing in lust.
    She is a lady , he reminded himself.
    And I am a ravening Hellhound.
    Her moans were a little louder, the sounds silencing any twinge of doubt. Eliza surged against him, her body speaking clearly that his touch was not unwelcome.
    In response, Gryff left off his kisses, and began freeing the tiny buttons of her bodice.
    “Oh, please,” she said, her voice slightly fuzzed. “D-don’t stop.”
    “No. I won’t,” he assured her, surprised at the waver in his own tone. “Not until you tell me to.”
    Her reply was lost in a breathy gasp as the muslin parted and his cheek touched the swell of naked flesh. His fingers hooked the top of her corset and eased it down, baring her rosy aureole.
    “Exquisite,” he growled, possessing the rose-pink point with a gentle little nip.
    With a heated cry, Eliza undulated against him, sliding her belly back and forth against his rigid erection. The friction of the fabric against his cock was driving every sane thought from his brain. Cloth—all he could think of was removing the cloth that curtained her luscious softness from him.
    Licking a slow, teasing circuit around the dusky circle, Gryff glanced upward. Release, and this mad, mad, moment might thud to an end. But what choice was there? His hands danced up her arms, found the ruffled cuffs of her prim gown…
    Whooossssh. The light muslin yielded with surprising ease to his tug. Rip, rip. With their seams split, the sleeves fluttered like windblown petals to the carpet.
    “Better,” he growled, peeling the remains of her gown down to her waist. The laces of her corset came next, a task he could perform with his eyes closed. But he kept them open, loath to leave off watching her expressive face. “Much better.”
    Her mouth parted and she wet her lips.
    Gryff sensed that despite being a widow, this was all new to her.
    “Try to relax, sweeting, and tell me what you like. Sex is all about both people having fun.”
    Her eyes widened in surprise.
    “Did your late husband never care about your pleasures?”
    Eliza shook her head and answered in a very small voice. “He said proper females weren’t supposed to enjoy the act.”
    “Lout,” growled Gryff. “Trust me, it’s the most natural thing in the world for women to take just as much