Maia turned toward him, lifting her face, her heart beating so strongly she thought she might faint. When their mouths met, it was as if a blaze of fire exploded in her, suddenly released from some pent-up place.
She heard a deep sigh that shifted the solid torso beneath her hands, a low groan vibrating from him as his fingers tightened on her arms. But Maia was hardly aware of the pressure, for his mouth was hot and hard and demanded her full attention.
His lips molded to hers, soft and warm, yet insistent, opening against hers as he moved to cup the back of her head. He held her as his tongue slipped along her parted lips, sleek and warm, then thrust inside in a sudden, strong sweep.
Maia closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the rush of pleasure bursting inside her. Their tongues tangled and slipped together, lips sucked and nibbled, his mouth crushing down on hers as if he couldn’t get enough. She bit back, slipped her tongue deeply into the warmth of his mouth and he gave a little shudder against her.
Her body had blossomed awake, now swollen and ready, hot and loose, and she found herself pressing wantonly against him, needing to feel all of his strength and heat. One of her knees somehow nudged against his leg, and the entire side of his torso and hip pressed into her curves. Beneath the smooth linen of his shirt, she felt the rise and fall of his chest. Its image, already burned in her memory, rose in her mind to match the swell of muscle that she felt beneath each palm. She wanted to feel the skin, the hair, the solid slabs of muscle she already knew were there.
Corvindale shifted away, and she opened her eyes to catch a glimpse of his face before he slid his arms around her, pulling her up against a solid chest. His wicked lips closed over the soft lobe of her ear, where hours earlier a ruby had hung, and Maia gasped at the shivery sensation of heat and slick, his breath warm against her skin, burning into her ear. She arched and shuddered, unable to keep a soft moan quiet as tickly pleasure rushed down to her belly, and lower.
When his hands moved, one to cup the side of her jaw as he buried his face into her neck, kissing, nuzzling, and the other to curl behind her hips and pull her close, Maia felt herself slide into a puddle of bonelessness. Pleasure made her weak and hot and she sagged to the side, leaning into the corner of the bench seat, dragging him with her.
Finding her lips again, he made her gasp into his breath when he roughed her mouth open with a demanding kiss. She took him, hot and long, sweeping deep and meeting him with her own nibbling teeth and molding lips. The heat of his body, the smell of him, close and male, she couldn’t remember how to breathe…
His body eased her down along the length of the seat, their legs mixed in with skirts, her head jammed against the side of the carriage and shoulder against the back of the seat. He lifted away just enough for her to see a faint red glow in his eyes, and the flash of too-long teeth—fangs—and to yank off his coat and thrust it sharply across the vehicle.
And then he was back, and she pulled him close, down on top of her, one of his legs sliding between hers, hooking into her skirts. When his thigh came up between hers, pressing into her, Maia found herself agonizingly aware of the heat and swelling there at that juncture. She felt as if she were going to explode, that she couldn’t catch her breath, and she shifted, moving closer, trying to find a way to ease the pressure there.
“My…oh…” she breathed, and then nearly arched up off the seat when he closed his hand over her breast, strong and sure. Through the layers of silk and her corset and shift, he located the sharp rise of nipple, giving a little sigh of discovery as he stroked over it with his thumb. The fabric shifted and sensitized her flesh, and Maia’s whole focus went to that place where all of the pleasure gathered and spread, radiating down and through her, hot and sharp.
He pulled at the neckline of her bodice, drawing it down to expose the top of her breast. The fabric cut into her flesh at the back as the swell was revealed, and Maia saw her skin shuddering and heaving from her uncontrolled breaths, her breast a lovely ivory dome highlighted in the moonlight just before he lowered his dark head.
She nearly shrieked when his lips molded over her up-thrust nipple. It was so hard and tight that the barest touch set her to gasping and trembling, but he gave no mercy. His mouth was hot and wet, and his tongue strong as it swirled around the peak of her breast. He drew her deeply into his mouth, sucking and licking in a hard, fast rhythm, then slowing and teasing as if he wanted to explore every little wrinkle. Maia’s world became dark and red and liquid, and she clutched at him, her hands curling into his hair and wide shoulders, pressing herself against his thigh.
The sharp rise of pleasure pulsed through her body, centering there between her legs, filling and throbbing as she tried to find the top, the end. Something.
His skin was so hot, his hair brushing her chin, his hands grasping her shoulders as if holding on for dear life. She felt a sharp edge, something on her skin, and then the flush of release roared through her. Maia lost control of her thoughts as she trembled and exploded inside, and then slid into the warm pleasure of after.
He lifted his face, and when their eyes met, Maia felt her whole world still. It was too dark to read his expression, but the heat there, and the dark need, made her mouth go dry. The tips of his fangs showed just beneath his upper lip, changing the shape of his mouth, making it full and soft and she wanted to kiss it. Again.
She became aware, as the pleasure sifted away and reality sneaked back in, that he hadn’t moved. That his hands gripped her with a death grip, and then he turned away, his eyes closing. His breathing was harsh and deep, as if he’d been running or struggling.
Maia reached up to touch his face, something she’d never thought to do before now. Touch the Earl of Corvindale?
Still harsh and dark and taut as stone, nevertheless his skin was warm and rough with stubble. He flinched when she brushed against him, her fingers light on his cheekbone.
His eyes opened and now they blazed fiery red, suddenly and openly, and the fangs seemed to show even longer. Maia swallowed, a zing of fear shooting through her, but she didn’t remove her hand right away. She let it slide into his hair and brushed it over an ear. Soft, warm, thick.
He looked down, his nostrils widening, his breathing changing and she felt his muscles stiffen suddenly. She realized he saw her bare breast, and suddenly aware of her dishabille, looked down to see what he did.
There was a dark streak, a slender line across the mound of white flesh. As if she’d been scraped. Blood.
Maia’s gaze jerked back up to him, and she saw the struggle in his face. His eyes, blank and focused somewhere distant, his mouth flat and compressed, his jaw so tight that his cheeks were hollow.