Dukes By the Dozen

Wulf’s face tipped up toward hers. The hand at her waist curled around to her back, drew her closer as his injured arm rose. A warm, rough palm pressed against her cheek, his thumb feathering across her skin.

His strong thighs came together, holding her in place but not trapping her. Relishing the hard muscle against her softer curves, she let the sensation settle into her body, let it fuel her mouth. She moved her tongue over his lips, then pressed inside to tease.

Every movement simmered in her blood.

“Madame Highwayman,” Wulf murmured. “Your mouth is more dangerous than your pistols.”

In one strong, fluid move, he rose to his full height, the expanse of his chest filling her vision.

She had to touch.

His skin was smooth and hot. Muscle rippled beneath her fingers, the heat of his skin warming her cold fingertips. Though she felt the strain of his control, he waited. Daring, tempting, and releasing her all at once.

“Just how much do you want to play?” The rumble of his deep voice vibrated against her palm. “How far do you intend to go?”

“I don’t know yet.” But she knew how far she wanted to go.

“Decide.” The tone of his voice lowered as he stepped closer, and she dropped her hand.

He was barely an inch away. She wanted to touch again. More. Drawing her gaze upward, she let it linger on his mouth. Considered just what to do. Then two strong, callused palms cupped her face. Firm, hot lips bent to hers. Claimed.

His mouth sent lightning straight to her toes. Wrangled so much need and brought it to the surface. She could not stop her hands from roaming toward his shoulders, curving them around his neck. Settled her fingers in thick strands of blond hair.

Tugged a little. Just because.

His low, needy growl followed, and his mouth nipped once in response.

Suddenly she could not touch enough of him. Her hands roamed over his skin, down the muscled torso to grip his waist. The buttons of the fall-front breeches were just there, so she flicked them open. The breeches slipped to the floor to reveal—everything.

Long torso, strong thighs, and a body more than ready for her. She took him in her hand, reveled in the soft skin and hard strength.

“It is to my benefit you were only half-clothed,” she murmured.

“And mine.” Wulf’s hands circled her waist, cupped her bottom and drew her close.

Bea abandoned her grip and pressed against him, the length of his arousal hard against her belly. She wanted him inside her, yet wanted this moment—this night—to last so much longer.

Wickedly, she grinned up into that lean, handsome face. “I have decided, Highrow. Making love is exactly what I will be doing tonight.”

APPROVAL ROARED THROUGH HIM.

He had wanted more of her than just a few kisses, a few touches. Had struggled against the fierce demand for more. He would have only gone as far as she would have allowed, but he was ridiculously satisfied by her choice.

He may not have survived otherwise.

Fueled by the haze of lust rushing through his blood, Wulf slanted his mouth over hers, continued to press that warm, feminine body against his. But it wasn’t enough to drown in the scent of her, the taste of her mouth.

He had to touch.

Running his hands over rounded hips, over the soft waist, he aimed for the buttons on her waistcoat. Quickly unfastened the tiny fabric-covered discs. She shrugged out of it herself, in between feathering kisses over his jaw. The nibbling touches pulled a growl from him and he began to untuck her shirt before the coat had even dropped to the floor.

White cotton followed dark wool a moment later, and she quickly removed the simple shift beneath her shirt, then her breeches—until she was standing naked before him. Gold and pink in the firelight, gaze fixed on his and her full mouth lifting with wicked invitation.

The body hidden beneath the men’s clothing was alluringly feminine. Heavy breasts, soft thighs. Dangerously curved and rounded. This was no slender willow, but a magnificent, lush woman.

Woman.

She might be the embodiment of the word.

Gorgeously confidant, she prowled across the room to one of the trunks. He had the pleasure of watching her round bottom as she retrieved a pile of blankets. She quickly spread one, then another, on the floor before the hearth. The remainder she laid aside, neatly piled for future use.

Neither of them was cold now.

“Come.” Passion swirled in the word, seemed to rise from her skin as she held out a hand for him.

Wulf accepted, wanting his hands on every inch of her body. She drew him down to the blanket, then ranged herself over it. Stretched her arms over her head and let him look his fill at a body he had not known he would crave so deeply.

He did. Crave her. Want her. Need her, as he needed his next breath. Everything he knew had tumbled away with the whirlwinds of snow, leaving only this passionate, powerfully sensual woman.