Free For Her Spy Only (Entangled Scandalous) by Robyn DeHart

pulsed against her hands. Desire moved through her, igniting every limb, every inch of flesh.
    Slowly he removed every piece of her clothing. He kissed each shoulder as he slid her chemise down. He moved to stand behind her and swept her hair aside. He kissed and nibbled at her throat, her neck. She closed her eyes and leaned into him. He reached around and cupped her breasts and her nipples, already hard, ached against his hands. She arched into him.
    Warm flesh pressed against her back and she longed for the rest of him to be disrobed. She reached behind her and cupped his erection, and he leaned into her hand. But still he kissed her skin, loving her with his lips, his tongue, his hands.
    Her skin flamed beneath his worship and impatience clawed at her. But he was in control, and she loved his lead.
    His hands massaged her breasts, his erection pressed into her bottom, and she moved in a slow circle grinding against him, hoping she drove him as wild as he did her.
    “Take off your breeches,” she whispered.
    “In time. I want to kiss every inch of you first.” He led her to the bed. Then he kissed her back, down the center of her spine, her hips, her waist, the tender spot where her bottom met her legs. She would not be able to withstand much longer. “Alistair, please,” she begged.
    “Patience, love.” A kiss behind each knee, her thighs, her calves, then his hands ran up both legs and stopped on her bottom. “You have a sweet bottom, do you know that?”
    She smiled, but said nothing. His torture didn’t end there. He started at her feet and kissed his way up to her knees, nibbled at her inner thighs. Then licked his way up to the apex of her thighs. She sucked in her breath and instinctively clenched her legs together.
    “Relax,” he whispered. His breath feathered through the triangle of hair. His hands ran up the length of her thighs and settled in the middle where all her desire pooled. “Has anyone ever kissed you here?”
    Her eyes widened. “No, never.” No one had ever been down there but him. But she didn’t tell him that.
    He lowered his mouth and put his lips on her. Then he parted her curls and kissed her most sensitive part. She sucked in her breath and nearly floated off the bed.
    “Oh my,” she said. It was her last coherent thought as her body flooded with sensations. He kissed and suckled and licked, and she writhed and moaned and shivered. Pleasure exploded through her when he slipped a finger inside. “Now, oh please, now.”
    He chuckled, a low and deep seductive laugh that sent shivers through her. He stood from the bed. The remainder of his clothes hit the floor, and then he was on top of her, the pressure of his body against hers…oh how she’d missed him. She knew he’d taken precautions again, his attempt to prevent another pregnancy. She wanted to tell him that his efforts were in vain, that his efforts weren’t foolproof, weren’t a guarantee, but then in one swift movement, he entered her. And her pleasure mounted again with every thrust.
    She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his back, deepening his penetration. Her climax hit hard and fast, right before his abdomen tightened and he groaned with his release.
    Never had she felt so close to someone, so connected. They were one flesh. In that moment she allowed herself to fantasize what could happen if she told him about Oliver. He’d smile broadly and pull her against him, profess his love as she professed hers, and they’d be a family, finally together.
    Now, though, he merely rolled off of her and pulled her close to him. “I told you we’re good together.”
    She traced her finger down the scar that crossed his left cheek and ran down his throat onto his chest. She’d always wondered what had caused it, but she’d never dared ask. Not because she didn’t think he’d tell her, but because she knew he would and whatever had caused this angry mark would remind her all too much of the danger he had faced