A Most Improper Rumor Read Online Free PDF Page A

through his breeches, and she slipped her other hand down between the press of their bodies to fumble with the fastenings keeping it from her.
    In the end he gently removed her fingers. “Allow me.” He was out of the garment swiftly, and then he stripped her gown and chemise away, positioning himself over her supine body. “I want you.”
    With a measure of boldness she had never dared before, she touched the erect length of his arousal. It was smooth but hard, and hot under her questing fingers. “I want you also.”
    He actually closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. “Don’t do that.”
    “You don’t like it?” An innocent question with a not-so-innocent insinuation.
    “I like it far too much.”
    What she liked was to be able to rattle that usual cool detachment, but before she could reflect on what to possibly do next, he ran his hand down the inside of her thigh to the sensitive flesh behind her knee and then back up again to the juncture of her thighs. One long finger slipped inside her. “I like this even better.”
    Her spine arched involuntarily. “Ben.”
    His finger did something wicked. “Shall I replace this?”
    “With something more substantial? By all means.” Only with effort could she keep some semblance of teasing smoothness in her voice.
    She was far too involved. Far too romantic, she acknowledged as he moved above her, far too much in love with her husband. Her legs opened at the pressure of his knees, and she consciously relaxed as he began to enter her, concentrating on the pleasure.
    The possession.
    The sheer intimacy of it.
    “Perfect,” he whispered in her ear as he began to move, and she couldn’t help but notice he was restrained, each inward glide more careful than usual, each withdrawal slow and measured, and she was the one who pressed her hands urgently to the small of his back as sensation began to build, her breath small pants. “Ben.”
    “Wait,” he admonished, his hair brushing her cheek as he moved in a smooth rhythm. “It will still happen . . . Just wait.”
    * * *
    A bead of sweat rolled down his temple and Ben ignored it, his taut body clamoring for release, but his control was rigid and it wasn’t until Alicia started to climax that he allowed a crack in his resolve to not be too importunate.
    Her inner muscles tightened around his cock, his mind went blank at the exquisite sensation, and he shuddered, going rigid at the same time she cried out and her nails dug into his skin.
    The aftermath was quiet, his room shrouded, and he shifted his weight, her slender form a contrast to his much-taller body.
    “I didn’t hurt you.”
    “No.” Alicia laughed, a breathless sound. “You certainly didn’t. I’m not made out of glass now, darling; I’m just with child.”
    She felt delicate beneath him, fragile and vulnerable. “I had every intention of being less demanding.”
    “I think I was the demanding one.” She touched his cheek, her eyes sparkling.
    Had she not stretched then, the tips of her peaked breasts brushing his chest, he might have been able to say something vaguely intelligent.
    Perhaps.
    But doubtful.
    Carefully he eased free, and then reclined beside her, his fingers feathering down her cheek.
    “You can demand whatever you wish from me.”
    His magnanimous mood vanished when she said, “I think I would like to meet with Lady DeBrooke.”
    “What? No.” He couldn’t help the slight scowl. The breeze from the open window brushed his heated skin.
    “As I did with my sister, Hattie, she will tell me what she wouldn’t tell you. Women talk to women. I have a few questions you could never get her to answer.”
    He couldn’t help but admire—and be distracted by—how her shining dark hair tumbled over her pale shoulders and bared breasts. “It is possible she’s a murderess.”
    “But you don’t think so.”
    He blew out a short breath. “No.”
    “Then what is the harm?”
    “I think our short partnership in investigation