Blood Red. Sharon Page

would do just a little bit from her dreams. Not everything.

      But as the earl’s hot mouth stroked over her knuckles, her knees almost buckled. His lips, wet and soft, pressed against her fingers. With a whispered moan, she gazed up into his glowing, mirrored eyes.

      It was impossible to guess the earl’s thoughts behind his shining, silvery eyes.

      At least crinkles at the corners hinted at his delight and Althea smiled in return. A smile that vanished into a startled gasp as he sucked her index finger into his mouth. His tongue twirled around the tip. In her dreams, he lavished such attentions on her nipples. And tonight he would for real.

      And heaven help her, she wanted it so desperately she felt she might burst.

      Then she flushed, knowing she must do something she hadn’t yet done.

      “Thank you,” Althea whispered, “for saving my father.” She had to whisper. Their meeting was illicit, forbidden, but also, the moment was magical, and she was afraid to shatter it.

      “Anything for you, love.” His lordship caressed her cheek and led her hand to his.

      She’d never touched a man this way, and it was beautiful, strangely sweet, to trace the high ridge of his cheekbone, to slide her fingers into his soft hair. Gathering courage, she laid her hand lightly against his face. Touching him helped her believe he was real. His skin was raw silk and his raspy stubble tickled her palm.

      His gaze burned into her. “And you, my beautiful warrior, were magnificent. Courageous.”

      “How did you send such power out of your—”

      “Ssh.”

      “No. I need to know. How did you escape imprisonment when your twin brother could not? What do you truly want?”

      “You. I truly want you.” He turned his face in her hand and touched his lips to her palm. Dabbed his tongue in the sensitive center.

      “Tonight we are just a man and a woman, love.”

      Althea’s legs weakened again. He caught her by her hips, supporting her. He splayed his hand over her lower back. Even through her flannel nightdress, his heat seared her.

      But just a woman or not, she needed to know. “What of Crenshaw, the servants, the other guests? How did you—”

      “I entered their minds and erased much of what they remembered. They believe your father had a severe stomach upset. Now, sweet, I am beginning to wish I could control your mind with the same ease.”

      “You can’t?”

      “If I could, love, we would have been naked, entwined, and screaming in ecstasy long ago.”

      A jolt of agony shot through Althea’s belly at his blunt words. It must have showed plainly on her face because he gave a triumphant grin.

      “You have the most tempting mouth, sweet. I imagine that every man you meet hungers to kiss you.”

      That startled her. She’d never received more than hurried, chaste pecks from men. Nothing that prepared her for his hot mouth on hers.

      He lifted her chin, just enough to allow his lips to slant sensuously over hers. He coaxed her mouth open, the way he did in her dreams. In her dreams, it was so shockingly intimate to kiss with her mouth wide. But the reality was even more scorching and sinful and perfect.

      His tongue slid in, filling her mouth with heat and pressure and taste.

      She loved it. She pushed forward. Stopped short.

      Fangs.

      She pulled back.

      The hurt in his eyes speared her heart.

      Impulsively, Althea arched up and slid her hands around his strong neck. She’d never done this—never claimed a kiss, not even in her dreams. In the dreams, he always took her. She was always the one lured and seduced and possessed.

      She had no idea how to kiss.

      Pushing aside fear, she let hunger guide her. She moved her mouth over his, pressing hard, then softly, shifting as he did, savoring his mouth. The earl possessed a heat she’d never known, an intimate taste she couldn’t define.

      His tongue slid in again and tangled with hers. He kissed her until her wits whirled. Until she understood he would kiss her all night. He kissed her as he tugged the ribbon from her braid and threaded his fingers through her hair. Kissed her as he yanked open the belt of her wrapper and slid it off her shoulders. And kissed her hard as he flicked the first small buttons of her nightdress from their loops, exposing her throat, her chest, the upper curves of her breasts.

      She gripped his broad, solid shoulders, her tongue now deep in his hot, delicious mouth. She felt the points of his retracted fangs but forced herself not to retreat.

      She wanted to show trust…even if she wasn’t certain she could trust.

      Shadows lengthened as the moonlight disappeared, plunging them into a velvety dark. Althea knew the earl could see her, but she was blind and she clung to him more tightly. He pulled her closer, until her breasts pressed against his chest and her hard nipples poked bands of solid muscle, beneath hot skin and coarse curls.

      His hands slid down to her bottom. Scandalously, he squeezed generous portions of her flesh with both his big hands and chuckled with masculine pleasure into her mouth.

      He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, “What a perfect plump arse you have,” before he captured her mouth again.

      Gripping her cheeks, his lordship lifted her, slid his leg between hers, and lowered her so she straddled him.

      Oh God, she wore nothing under her nightgown. His naked thigh rubbed her naked nether lips and she blushed as her wetness coated his skin.

      He gave another chuckle, this one filled with pride. Just as in her dreams, he was terribly pleased with himself. She was soaking wet, embarrassingly so.

      As though he sensed her shyness, he lavished soft, sweet kisses on her eyebrows and lashes, her nose and cheeks, her forehead, her chin, until she giggled helplessly.

      He rocked his leg and the pressure felt so good. She let her head loll back as his hot mouth pressed to her throat.

      She stiffened and pulled away. “Are you going to bite me?”

      Did I ever bite you in a dream?

      “No, you didn’t but—” Althea broke off before she said “the other man.” She couldn’t—absolutely couldn’t—say out loud that she had dreamed of another man and him.

      “No, angel. I’m not going to bite you. But I do want to taste you. Savor every delectable inch of you.” His lips skated down her throat, his tongue licked in the hollow. All the while, his thigh rubbed and rubbed. A wicked hunger blossomed there. He made her throb and she felt as though she floated in air, as though she could fly. Shift shape as he did, spread newfound wings, and soar.

      But his hand in her nether curls brought her sharply to earth. He’d slipped his other hand into the bodice of her nightdress. He cradled her breast, the heel of his hand pressed to her pounding heart. He stroked her curls, dipping his finger lower, into her moisture.

      She should stop. Must stop. Or was it far too late? Would he let her stop?

      Angel, I will stop when you wish.

      “You read my mind!”

      Only the signals of your body. Your tension. The startled look in your eyes. I am your servant tonight, love. I do only as you desire.

      His finger stayed at the very apex of her sex. Althea fought the desire to tip her hips up, to coax him to slide his finger inside her.

      “I don’t believe you!” she exclaimed in a whisper, even though she ached for more.

      And why not, my sweet?