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

“Keir,” she began to protest, glancing uneasily around them.

“Sit on my lap,” he wheedled. “Just for a few minutes.”

“What if someone sees?”

“No one will come out here.”

“But they might,” she persisted.

His teeth closed on her earlobe in a gentle nip. “Then we’d best be fast.”

“Keir …” Merritt squirmed and dissolved into giggles. “This is not the place … No, really …”

“’Tis the perfect place,” he said, nuzzling her throat. “Kiss me.”

She gave in to temptation and fastened her lips to his, and Keir responded with lusty enthusiasm. Beneath her skirts, his hands were busy, tugging and rearranging unseen garments until the waist of her drawers sagged to her hips, and the seams of the crotch were spread wide open.

Merritt pulled her head back to look at him, an objection hovering at her lips. But his eyes were sparkling with boyish mischief, and he was too enticing to resist.

“There’s no one here to pay us mind,” he said. “I’ll be able to see if someone comes from the holloway.” One of his hands slipped between her thighs, gently fondling. “You’ve never done this outside?”

The light caresses sent shocks of heat through her, making it difficult to speak. “The idea has never even occurred to me.”

“’Tis different out in nature, with the wind and sun on your skin.”

“And sand in my drawers.”

Keir laughed softly. “We’ll keep to the blanket.” He stroked her intimately, tickling the edges of closed lips, the soft folds and petals. The delicate sensation drew a fullness to her groin and lit her veins with anticipation. A finger entered by tender, halting degrees, wriggling with each slight pause as if he were easing it into a glove. Her flesh closed around the invasion, again and again, and he pushed deeper each time she relaxed, until finally the palm of his hand cupped snugly over the triangle of dark curls. He kneaded her, his finger stirring and undulating languidly inside.

Merritt’s vision became slightly unfocused. “We’re going to be caught,” she whimpered, writhing on his lap.

Slowly his finger withdrew. “Then dinna tarry,” he said huskily. “Undo my trousers.”

“We should wait until later.”

“I’ve gone through worlds of waiting,” he said, nuzzling her cheek. “And that’s just since this morning.”

Merritt hesitated and glanced bashfully over her shoulder at the empty beach.

Keir grinned at her indecision. “Be brave, Merry,” he coaxed with a note of teasing. “There are five buttons between you and what you want. Just reach down and …” He drew in a rough breath as he felt her grasp the erect shaft and guide him into place. “Aye,” he said gruffly, “feel that … ’tis all for you. Come take your pleasure of me.”

He steadied her hips as she sank down on him. She concentrated on relaxing to let him in, yielding to the thick, heavy glide of him inside her. When she’d taken all she could, she paused, trembling, her face level with his. She felt pulses and throbs, sensation and echoes of sensation, all centered in that naked, concealed place where they were joined. He curved his hand beneath her bottom to support her, and stared at her with those singular eyes, the cool blue so brilliant it appeared to be throwing off sparks.

Merritt touched his face, her fingertips as light as a whisper as she traced the high planes of his cheekbones, the elegant hollows beneath, the squared-off jaw. She leaned close to kiss the firm, beautiful shape of his mouth, the lower lip more deeply curved than the upper. The altered angle of her body sent a zing of delight through her, but provoked a quiet grunt from him as if she caused him pain.

“Oh—I’m sorry—” she began, but he shook his head with a breath of amusement.

“No, love—you dinna hurt me—” He lowered his forehead to her shoulder, gasping. “You nearly unmanned me, is all.”

She began to lean back, but he gripped her hips and kept her there. “Merry,” he begged desperately, laughter threading his voice, “for the love of all that’s holy, dinna move.”

Merritt turned her face against the rich amber and gold of his hair and held obediently still. It was difficult, when her body demanded that she grind and thrust against him. She tried to stay relaxed, but every now and then her inner muscles clamped strongly on the hard pressure, eliciting a faint groan from him. How strange and delicious it was to sit here like this, entwined and filled, while sea breezes rustled through the marram grass on the dunes and quiet waves lapped at the shore.

Eventually Keir lifted his head, his eyes very light in his flushed face. “Put your legs around my waist,” he said. He helped to rearrange her limbs until they were pressed together closely in a seated embrace, with his bent knees supporting her. It was surprisingly comfortable, but didn’t permit much movement. Instead of thrusting, they were limited to a rocking motion that allowed only an inch or two of his length to withdraw and plunge.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” Merritt said, her arms looped around his neck.

“Be patient.” His mouth sought hers in a warm, flirting kiss. One of his hands searched beneath her skirts to settle on her naked bottom, pulling her forward as they rocked rhythmically.