To All the Rakes I've Loved Before (A Honeycote Novella) by Anne Barton Page B

he tugged on the tail of her braid, then ran his fingers through it until her curls tumbled around her shoulders. “So soft,” he murmured. “So wild.”
    Amelia wasn’t sure if he referred to her or her hair but decided she didn’t care.
    “Let’s lie down before the fire,” he suggested. He took the thick quilt that lay on her ottoman and laid it, doubled over, across the carpet. Amelia tossed the pillow from her chair onto the quilt and lay with the heat of the crackling fire at her back.
    Stephen sank to his knees and stretched out beside her, his appreciative gaze roaming over her shoulders, legs, everywhere. He skimmed a palm up over her hip and rib cage before taking the weight of one of her breasts in his hand. Through the silk, he pinched her nipple lightly, teasing it till it was a tight little point of pleasure. She felt like she would float away and wished he would kiss her, if only to give her something to cling to.
    Instead he lowered his head, took her nipple in his mouth, and suckled her through the thin layer of silk, sending exquisite sensations coursing through her. Her limbs grew loose and languid. Her core pulsed, and though Stephen had not touched her there, she felt herself grow warm and wet with wanting, with desire.
    He abandoned one breast in order to lave attention on the other, but not before blowing lightly on the soaked silk that clung to her. A soft cry escaped her throat, and she cupped his head in her hands, being careful to avoid the bandage above his ears.
    She watched Stephen, taking pleasure at the sight of his broad shoulders and his large hands roaming the length of her body as though he wished to possess her. He wore a look of intense concentration, as though he were on a terribly important mission, and every so often he moaned, sending delicious vibrations through her bones.
    When, at last, he lifted his head and kissed her mouth, she poured all the passion that had built up inside her into kissing him back. Their tongues touched and tangled as their passion spiraled higher, leaving Amelia trembling and aching with need.
    Stephen seemed to sense her frustration and soothed her, slowing the kiss and lightly stroking her face. “The second rule you should know is that, for tonight at least, you are a princess. You should ask for whatever you like, and I will grant your wish. Or die trying.”
    She traced the brow above his black eye and the bruise below it, ran a fingertip over the seam of his lips. His promise to try to please her only aroused her further, for she was quite certain he could deliver.
    “You take my breath away too,” she admitted. “When I’m kissing you, I feel like my heart will pound out of my chest.”
    “What else do you like?” He slid a finger beneath the slinky strap of her chemise, slipped it off her shoulder, and traced tantalizing circles over her skin.
    Amelia’s mouth went dry, and she let her eyes flutter shut. “That’s very nice.”
    He pushed the strap farther down her arm, eased it over her elbow, and tugged her chemise down, exposing her breast to the cool air. She lay back on the pillow, offering herself up to him, wanting his hands and mouth on her as they’d been before. But he went slowly, as though intent on savoring each moment. He touched her lightly, caressing her everywhere, driving her mad with wanting. “Do you like this?” he asked, nipping her shoulder.
    Lord help her, she did. “Mmm.” But she wanted this night to be pleasurable for him too. “What would you like?” she asked.
    “It’s enough for me to touch you. And the sight of you? It’s like a feast for my eyes.”
    Suddenly, emotion clogged Amelia’s throat—never had she felt so beautiful, so oddly powerful. She sat up and, as she gazed into the deep blue of his eyes, slipped the other strap off her shoulder and let the silk chemise fall to her waist.

Chapter 9
    Miss W. seems curiously unaware that the proper location for receiving callers is the