Free Her Secret Fantasy by Gaelen Foley

this.
    His hand curved tenderly around her nape, his gentle touch so skilled and reassuring it could have melted the defenses of the most reluctant maiden. His lips beguiled hers slowly, moving back and forth with such determined coaxing that she tilted her head back farther and parted her lips for the velvet stroke of his tongue. Her pulse was a reckless rhythm as she clung to him. She could feel his mighty heart pounding against her chest.
    His desire was all-encompassing as he ravished her mouth, transporting her to a state of dazed delight. When his palm inched down her side and his fingers clasped her hip, she caressed the back of his hand, unsure herself if she was trying to stop him or urging him on.
    She wanted this so badly, even though she knew that she should not. As his tongue glided against hers in warm, seductive expertise, heady intoxication bloomed inside her, clamorous want and throbbing confusion. The fiery need that rose up from the depths of her being took her completely off guard.
    For so long she had managed to ignore the lonely ache to be touched, caressed, held.
Just like this. So dangerous.
He seemed to know exactly what her body yearned for. Her senses exalted in the masculine solidity of his broad chest pressed against her womanly softness. Her tongue reveled in his virile taste. She molded her hands over his massive shoulders adorned with the gold epaulets, and a moan escaped her as he lifted her up without warning and set her on the railing behind her, his hips crushing the tulle of her skirts as he pressed closer into the angle of her parting thighs.
    He left her gasping his name as his wayward mouth descended along the side of her neck. She stroked his chest and flat stomach while his kisses traveled down the neckline of her dress.
Oh, God.
This was growing hotter and quickly going further than she had anticipated, but she could not compel herself to stop.
    She raked her fingers through his silky black hair, mussing the neat queue that bound it. He didn’t seem to mind, focused as he was on exploring her cleavage. This was a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
    Entranced by his passion, she let him play. Dizzy with pleasure, she wrapped one hand around the nearby post and braced herself, arching against him slightly. He groaned down into the valley between her breasts. “Oh, God, don’t do that,” he said swiftly.
    “Don’t you like it?”
    “I like it—far too much.” He straightened up again and cupped her face between his hands, gently drinking once more from her lips.
    Lily was on fire. The tender way he touched her now made her want to tear him apart.
    “Let’s get out of here,” he suggested in a husky murmur. “There’s a boat over there. I could take you out on the lake.”
    She looked into his flaming eyes and longed with all her heart to go with him. What did he mean by “take you,” exactly? she wondered. In any case, she didn’t dare. “I-I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
    “’Course it is.” He gave her a smoldering half-smile, still panting a little. “I’ll row, you navigate.”
    That smile was so hard to resist.
    “Major, you don’t
row
a gondola,” she informed him, struggling for clarity, and fighting the urge to grab the delicious pagan and kiss him again. “You push it. With a pole.”
    “Right. Forgot.”
    Still breathless, Lily snapped her fan open and began waving it in a valiant effort to cool her blood. “I believe it also involves some singing—in Italian.”
    “Singing? Now that falls beyond the call of duty.”
    “You won’t sing for me?”
    “You won’t even tell me your name. Which is very cruel of you. Besides, I can’t sing and I don’t know a word of Italian. Only a little Latin—and
tempus fugit,
darling,” he said urgently.
Time flies.
“If you’re game for this, we’ve got to hurry.”
    “Oh, I forgot. You have a prior engagement,” she teased in mild reproach, brushing off a twinge of jealousy.
    “I can