Free A Fool Again by Eloisa James Page B

arch of creamy skin, a fall of tawny hair, a body straining for his touch.
    When she’d put it on, she hadn’t thought about the fact that her docile, oh so docile gown was rather easily unfastened. Such thoughts never occurred to ladies.
    â€œYou look at me,” she said haltingly, “in such a way—”
    He raised his head. “As if you were all that I wanted, Genevieve? As if I could bury my head in your breast forever?”
    Words choked in her throat.
    â€œAs if you were the Holy Grail,” he said, and the rasp in his voice couldn’t be mistaken. “A cup of sweetness that I traveled hundreds of miles to find. I found you so easily the first time....”
    The words drifted dizzily through Genevieve’s head. His lips drifted over the curve of her breast and then...and then he was suckling her. A little explosion of noise came from her throat and he pulled harder.
    â€œMy honeysuckle,” he said hoarsely. “Honey sweet Genevieve.”
    It had been all of seven years ago, and many a bad memory had come in between...but Genevieve knew exactly what would happen now. He would come to her. Seven years ago, when Tobias had her on the carriage seat, her clothes vanished. Of course, it hurt back then. But Genevieve didn’t even care if it hurt. Let it hurt! Anything that would assuage this burning impatience. She pulled at him.
    â€œSlow,” he murmured. But she didn’t want slow. She wanted speed and heat, all those things she remembered.
    â€œNo!” she said. Then daringly, she pulled up his white shirt. His skin burned under her skin, muscles moving under her fingers in great swaths of power.
    â€œI want you, Genevieve,” he said hoarsely. His shirt was gone now and—
    â€œYou’re so much more beautiful than you were as a boy,” she whispered, awed, reaching out with a tentative hand. His skin was golden brown from the Indian sun, a large, powerful man’s body. He shivered at the slow sweep of her hand, jumped when her fingers brushed his nipples. Genevieve was beside herself, lost in a wild sweep of exuberance racing through her veins like the rough wine, like the wind in her face when they rode the Flying Boats.
    She leaned toward him and rubbed her lips over his flat nipple, tasted him with the tip of her tongue, heard a harsh groan. She laughed softly, triumphing. She was the one in charge this time! She was no tender miss anymore, startled into blissful silence by every twitch of his finger. She— She— She—
    His hand caressed her leg with a sensual shock that sent her body bucking against his, rational thought flying from her head again. And she would have stopped him—of course she would!—except that he was suckling her, and the sweetness of it, the honey of it, spread through her veins until she couldn’t even move her legs. This she remembered. The drugging, achy desire that turned her legs to water and her will to nothing, that made her throw away the precepts of a lifetime and dash into a carriage bound for Gretna Green.
    His hand was above her garter now, touching her skin, and her skin never felt so soft. It was as if she could feel herself through him, as if his hand were hers, sliding along skin as smooth as that of a baby, slipping between, dropping one finger into—
    Genevieve’s back arched straight off the couch. His mouth took hers, hard and fast, and his hand was still there, where no one had ever touched her except him. It was all she could do to wrap her arms around his neck as tightly as she could because the tingling was there again, almost frightening, growing and spreading down her legs, making her buck against his fingers....It was better than it had been seven years ago. Worth ruining herself. Worth it all. Even worth Erasmus.
    And then, blissfully, it wasn’t his hand anymore, but To-bias himself, coming to her with a groan that tore from his throat. She