Free The Viscount Always Knocks Twice (Heart of Enquiry Book 4) by Grace Callaway

desperate moan escaped her. He swallowed the sound, tilting her head back, and then the kiss caught fire. Senses aflame, she felt the hot, invading thrust of his tongue, and she answered naturally with a parry of her own. His low growl shivered through her. Their tongues twined, the slippery slide releasing a molten rush between her thighs.
    Before she could fathom her body’s startling response, she was lifted against the wall. Pulse galloping, she felt his thigh boldly insinuating between her legs, lifting her toes off the ground. The heat of that thickly muscled ridge burned through the layers of her petticoats; when she squirmed against him, the friction made bliss ricochet against her insides. She didn’t even realize she’d moaned again until a hand clamped over her mouth.
    “Shh, lass.” The raw hunger in his voice mesmerized her. “We must be quiet…”
    The warm, wet tug on her earlobe caused her head to loll dazedly against the wall. Butter and jam, who knew that that organ could be so sensitive? Her fingers bit into the unyielding sinew of his shoulders as pleasure came to her like a cart of desserts, each offering more decadent than the one before.
    He licked the shell of her ear, invading wetly, suckling the tender lobe until her toes curled inside her slippers. When his lips travelled lower, branding a trail down her neck, she wriggled in helpless delight. His big hands spanned over her ribs, just beneath her surging bosom. Her breasts strained inside her bodice, the tips taut and needy, and when his thumbs brushed against the undersides, she couldn’t help nudging into his caress.
    “You’re so soft. Sweet,” he muttered.
    His finger trailed over the bare skin of her décolletage, leaving goose pimples in its wake. He traced the low neckline of her dress… then dipped beneath. The breath whooshed out of her lungs when he found the stiff peak of one breast, circling gently. Desire flooded her.
    “Do you like that?” his voice growled in her ear.
    “Oh, yes—” Her gasp was swallowed by his kiss.
    Exhilarating pleasure swept through her. Spun her more powerfully than any dance. Darkness amplified the sensations, and she was whirling in them, lost, guided only by his scorching lips and masterful touch. She rocked wantonly against the granite ledge of his thigh… and felt an iron-hard bulge poking into her own leg. This time, a sense of discovery sizzled through her.
    She’d been around farmyard animals most of her life. Carlisle was… potent. Like a stallion she’d once seen brought to stud.
    His shocking arousal made her feel both dizzy and powerful. Her spine bowed as he gently tweaked the tip of her breast, his tongue tracing a scorching line on the swells just above. Her breath jammed, her fingers spearing the rough silk of his hair as need soared to a feverish pitch—
    “Hullo? Anyone in here?”
    The voice—Gabby’s?—cut through Vi’s haze. She froze; Carlisle did the same. Footsteps padded closer. She didn’t dare breathe, every muscle quivering with the fear of discovery…
    “Got you!” Gabby announced cheerfully.
    Taut as a bowstring, Vi fully expected the steps to swing open, to be exposed—dear God, with Carlisle . Instead, she heard the sound of whipping fabric, followed by male groans and shuffling on the platform overhead.
    “I told you the curtains were a curst silly place to hide, Goggs.”
    Through her panic, Vi recognized the disgusted voice as Parnell’s.
    “You didn’t have a better plan,” Goggs said plaintively.
    “You both did ever so well.” Gabby’s tone was consoling. “In fact, you’re amongst the last to be found. There are only three more—oh my goodness, did Lord Wormleigh just run past in the hallway?”
    “We’ll help you hunt old Wormleigh down,” Goggs offered.
    A stampede of footsteps… and then the room went quiet.
    The door to the Priest Hole swung open, the light momentarily blinding. When her pupils adjusted to the brightness,