Free Devil at Midnight by Emma Holly Page B

was feeling his apparition as real as day. Tiny but intense shivers rolled down his spine. Grace’s gaze was chained to his as he slid his hold up her slender arm.
    She was solid all over, it seemed.
    She shivered when he fanned his thumb across the inner bend of her elbow. She was breathing shallowly, her full lips parted to draw in air. Between her small white teeth, he could see the glistening tip of her tongue. The longing that stabbed through him was unbearable. Had his prick been any harder, it would have split.
    “Christian,” William said, still lingering outside the privy. “What are you doing? You look brainsick.”
    Christian jerked his head to William. His heart was thumping in a panic, his fingers contracting ungently on Grace’s arm. Obviously, William could not see Grace any more than before, but if she continued to be corporeal, would that change?
    Christian was not certain he could stand to share the sight of her with William.
    “I am leaving,” he said as steadily as he was able. “My father will grow impatient if I delay.”
    He kept his grip on Grace as he walked rapidly to the stairwell, pulling her after him.
    “Christian,” she gasped.
    What she was protesting, he did not know—perhaps the way he was hurrying her. Unable to stop, he hastened down to the next turning of the spiral stairs. Once he reached it, he backed her tight against the stone wall.
    The moan that broke from him was low and rough. Her body was firm beneath his, giving and rounded but also slim as a girl. Her warmth caused a conflagration inside his veins, one that worsened as she grew warmer herself. The hands she placed on his waist were deliciously tentative. Set amongst all that heat, her maidenly shyness made him feel ten times the man he normally was. It was his nature to plunder, and she was a prize no marauder could have passed by.
    “Christian,” she whispered as his head sank toward hers.
    “I have to kiss you,” he said.
    He was almost afraid to do it. Would she return to mist if he broke this spell? Would he be left with a ghost again? Her breath wafted over him, her lips trembling palpably. He cupped the back of her silky head, his fingers spreading, her gorgeous hair spilling down his arm. The scarlet locks fell to the center of her back, thick and cool and gleaming as if they recently had been combed. With the sense that he was changing his life forever, he pressed his mouth over hers.
    Such a tiny sound issued from her throat that only his ears could have caught it.
    “I won’t hurt you,” he promised, drawing back from paradise just far enough to speak.
    Tears glistened in her eyes, beautiful but unshed. “I believe you, Christian.”
    She rose on her toes, her soft, full breasts sliding up his chest. Her hands branded him with fire as they shifted onto the back of his brown doublet. It took one galvanic heartbeat for him to sweat through his shirt. Needing to hold her more than he needed breath, he wound his arms around her, between her back and the wall. Helpless not to, he wrapped one hand around the curve of her bottom and lifted her.
    This time, when their lips sealed together, he was the one who moaned.
    God bless her, she gave him entry, letting him lick her, letting him stroke and suckle the small, sharp tongue that had been inciting his worst cravings. He tried to be gentle, even tender, but when her fingers curled around his shoulders from behind, her surprisingly strong arms tightening, he could no longer take the care her innocence deserved.
    His hips surged against her, his friction-greedy prick rubbing and thrusting against her mons. She was a maid. His aggression must have alarmed her, but rather than object, she changed the angle of her head and pushed her own sleek tongue deep into his mouth.
    Christian’s knees threatened to buckle. Her kiss was eager, and not without natural skill. Unbelievably aroused by both, his hand clenched in a spasm on her hindquarters, crushing her closer to