Smex Scene Sunday

Hero: James Spencer, Duke of Abermont. A spy for the crown. Willing to die to protect his family. Even marry a possible traitor.

Heroine: Vivienne Loren. Governess for the Spencer family. Wants revenge for her brother’s death. Willing to do anything to get it. Even marry her enemy.

She wanted him.

“You’re killing me, woman,” he ground out, at the sight of the pink ribbon tied underneath her breasts, in the same shade as her garters. Judging from his reaction, Vivian no longer considered extravagant undergarments as a needless expense.

“It will be a wonderful death,” she found herself saying, as his fingers worked deftly at the knot.

“If I can but die with you naked before me, I’ll reconsider my stance on living long.” He plucked at the last knot, unfastening her stays. She sat before him now with her chemise and her stays spread wide, her gown pooled around her waist. He helped her remove the stays, tossing them aside.

Before she had time to protest, his hands were on her again, molding her breasts against his palms. If she had thought the contact before had been good, she’d not expected this. He teased and played with her, exerting pressure where she needed him most, until she was crying out from how good it all made her feel. He dived down, taking her breast into his hot mouth. As he tongued her, circling her nipple until the dusky peaks of her nipples were almost painfully stiff, she reevaluated her previous ideas on just how much bliss the human body could take. Because she was soaring, her mind hazy, all her senses overloaded with pleasure, and he didn’t seem intent on stopping.
Until the carriage hit a bump in the road, jostling them forward. Then the postchaise halted entirely. Nixon’s shouts echoed from outside.

A second later, there was a knock upon the door, and Arden’s voice echoed. “James, the wheel is stuck in a rut. You’re going to want to come and help Nixon push it out.”

“Damnation. Damnable, damned, damningly damnation.” The black look he sent the door alleviated some of her disappointment—for he was just as upset by this interruption as she was.

“James?” Arden called again.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” James cursed under his breath, fetching her stays. “This is not the way this is supposed to work, you know. Once these stays come off, they’re supposed to bloody remain off for at least a half hour, do you understand me? We should make this a rule from now on.”

She turned so he could lace her back up. “At least a half hour. Duly noted in the marriage charter.”