Devil in Disguise (The Ravenels #7) by Lisa Kleypas

“Wait,” she heard Keir say through the clamor of her heartbeat. His hands were on her hips, keeping her close and tight. For some reason it aroused her intolerably, knowing he was trying to stop her from climaxing. She tried to drive herself back on the hard shaft inside her, unable to get enough of it even though she was stretched to the limit. Raising up on her forearms, she writhed and pushed desperately against him.

Keir’s husky laugh caressed her ears as he leaned over her. He held her hips snugly against his, allowing only a sense of motion, a subtle grinding that wasn’t nearly enough. Very gently, he closed his teeth on the side of her neck and soothed it with his tongue. “Tell me how good it feels,” he whispered.

Merritt fought for the breath to reply. “It feels too good. I want to come … I want to spend … oh, please, Keir …”

“Spend,” he repeated, and smiled against her shoulder. “I like that word for it.” He withdrew just an inch, and rolled his hips upward. “Aye, I want your pleasure. Spend it all on me.”

She sobbed and squirmed, able to feel the motion of him deep in her belly, but it wasn’t enough. “Harder. Please.”

The rhythmic drives grew longer, more aggressive. “No one else could ever feel this good to me,” he said. “No other woman in the world. Only you.” He reached beneath her to cup the round weights of her breasts, and began to pinch and tug at her nipples. Not sharply but not softly, the little flashes of discomfort somehow magnifying her pleasure. His hand slid down her front and between her thighs, finding the taut peak of her sex. The gently massaging fingers, the steady pumping, set off an explosion of pleasure that spread to every part of her body and kept unfolding and renewing itself. The release was so powerful, it left her dazed and too weak to move. She was only vaguely aware of Keir’s climax, the quiet growl he pressed against her skin, the rough shudders that ran through him.

His sweetness afterward was almost better than the lovemaking, as he kissed up and down her body, praising and caressing her. Eventually he lit a lamp near the bedside and went to the washstand. He returned with a glass of cool water and a damp cloth. Merritt drank thirstily, and lay back as he washed her intimately. She could have done it herself, but it was delicious to be taken care of, and she felt utterly limp, as if all her bones had been soaked in honey.

After seeing to his own needs, Keir got into bed and tucked Merritt against his good side. She snuggled into the crook of his arm and frowned in curiosity as she saw a small envelope in his hand.

“What is that?” she asked.

“Someone slipped it beneath the door.”

“We’ve been found out,” Merritt said, seeing that his name had been written on the envelope, even though it had been delivered to her room. An embarrassed chuckle escaped her, and she hid her face on his chest. “But how? We’ve been so discreet.”

With a snort of amusement, Keir opened the letter. “It’s from Kingston,” he said, and fell silent as he read.

Merritt lifted her head. “What does it say?” she asked, unable to interpret his expression.

“The duchess, Seraphina, and Ivo arrived from Paris this afternoon.”

“They came back early? I wonder why.”

“It doesn’t say. But it seems they’re tired from the journey and will have an informal supper in the family parlor—leaving us to our own devices.”

“Thank heaven,” Merritt said gratefully. “I couldn’t have gone down to dinner. I’ll ask for a tray to be brought to the room.” She winced a little as she brought herself to ask, “Did Uncle Sebastian write anything about … this?”

“No, he only asks that I come to breakfast tomorrow morning. He wants to introduce me to the duchess.”

Merritt let her hand wander lightly over his chest and toyed with the fine steel chain. “Are you dreading it?” she dared to ask.

“Partly,” he admitted. “But I’m also curious. Whatever else you can say about Kingston, ’tis obvious he puts a store by his wife.”

“He does. And she’s a dear, kind woman. There’ll be no unpleasantness with her, I promise.”

His chest rose and fell in a measured sigh. “You’re worrying what the coming days will bring,” Merritt guessed.

Keir took her hand and kissed the backs of her fingers, and drew them along the edge of his jaw. “I’m no’ giving any of it a thought tonight,” he replied, and set the letter aside. “No’ with you in my arms. ’Tis all that matters to me.”

“KEIR. KEIR, WAKE up now.” Merritt sat up and leaned over him and shook him gently, and patted his cheek with an urgent flutter of her hand. “We’ve slept late. The sun is up, and—oh dear, it must be almost ten o’clock. No one came to stir the grate or bring tea. I suppose they didn’t know what to do, since you’re—and I didn’t—”

“Wait,” he said groggily, reaching up to touch her lips with his fingers. “Too early. Too many words.”

“But it’s not early. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You should be going down to breakfast now. I’m sure Culpepper has already gone to shave you and found only an empty bedroom. This is all very mortifying. I’m not sure what to—what are you doing?”