The Piano Tutor Read Online Free

strip the gloves off, as hungry as she. For a moment he held them dangling in his hand and gave her a penetrating look.
    She stepped forward and kissed him. By heaven, she had made her choice, and she was going to embrace it with all the long-banked fire in her soul. She tasted his laughter, and then his arms came around her and the kiss deepened.
    So sweet and fierce. Embers flickered to flame, scorched to need. His palms smoothed the emerald satin of her gown and she leaned into his touch. There was no doubt he found her desirable—his body proved it, the hardness of him pressing against her center. He bunched her skirts in his hands drew them up, cool air caressing her legs.
    Wordlessly, she stepped back and let him pull her gown off. Her chemise tangled in her arms, and then it, too was gone. She stood before him, naked but for her undergarments. It was outrageous, and wonderful.
    “So beautiful,” he said, his eyes alight with hunger.
    He stroked his hands up her sides, then covered her breasts. She sucked in a sharp breath. Little fires quivered beneath his palms, and she could feel her nipples tauten under his touch. She arched into his hands, threw her head back, and sighed. What a picture she must make, wearing only her stockings and drawers, wanton and sensual under the hands of this darkly handsome gentleman.
    But he was wearing too much clothing. Her hands went to his cravat, making quick work of the elegant knot. Next, the buttons of his waistcoat, his fine linen shirt. She tugged the fabric free of his breeches and, hands trembling, pushed his shirt open. His chest was firmly muscled, a light dusting of hair tickling her fingertips as she stroked his skin.
    He made a sound of longing, then pulled her to him, his chest hot and hard against hers. It was as delicious as she had imagined. Another blazing kiss, and then he stepped back. She helped him pull off his coat and shirt, then he scraped his boots off and removed his breeches.
    Diana peeked between her lashes, curious and eager, then caught her breath at the sight of him. He was erect and strong, and she felt suddenly powerful, to bring him to such a rampant state.
    Henry had always insisted on taking his husbandly prerogatives with the lights off, the two of them securely between the sheets. He had never made her feel like this, had never openly admired her, or told her she was beautiful. It had been pleasant enough, their marital relations, but nothing like the fire that now seared through her.
    And that fire was nothing compared to the sensation that engulfed her when Nicholas took her in his arms and dipped his hand between her legs. This tempest of want scorching her to her soul—this was new. This was passion .
    “Ah!” she cried as his fingers stroked and played beneath her drawers. She gripped the strong sinews of his arms—she was going to fly to bits if she did not hold tightly to him.
    Nicholas withdrew his hand and she moaned in protest. With a devilish smile, he stripped off her drawers, then maneuvered her backward until her legs bumped the settee. They tumbled down together onto the gold velvet cushions and he braced himself over her, setting his member where his fingers had been. Slowly, inexorably, he pressed forward, opening her. Their gazes locked as their bodies fitted together, imperfectly at first. Then easier as he slid back, and forward again.
    “Yes,” she breathed.
    It was lovely and heated and, oh, she couldn’t bear how deliberately Nicholas moved in her. She caught at his shoulders and tilted her hips up, urging him to stroke deeper, faster. His breath hitched as he quickened his pace, the pulse at the side of his neck beating urgently.
    More. Yes, and more , until the pressure she felt coiling inside her finally released, exploded like an errant firework to spangle her senses with light and color.
    He let out a muffled shout and pulled free, spilling himself on the fine linen of his shirt. Sweat gleamed on his arms, his