When he kissed down the length of her neck, heading for her breasts, she let out an almost inaudible moan and ground her hips into his, wrapping her arms around his neck to help hold her weight. Good God. Why had he thought her indifferent to his advances before? She was warm and willing now.

With each breath she took, her chest rose and fell before him, tempting him, teasing him. Piers moved a hand up to cup one of her full, round breasts. A taut nipple strained against his palm through the fine muslin of her gown.

He’d dreamed of these breasts, of taking them into his mouth and suckling them until she writhed beneath him. For four long years, the thought of them had filled his nights with tortured dreams, as he’d never done more than look down on them, springing wildly beneath him as he rutted into her from above.

He pushed her back against the closest wall for support. Then he pulled down on her cap sleeve and the top of her bodice until a flawless breast bounced free. Taking it into his mouth, he stroked over the darkened tip with his tongue and rolled it gently between his teeth.

Judith pressed her hand to the crown of his head and arched her back against him, thrusting herself even deeper into his ministrations. She tossed her head back. It landed with a thud against the wall, but she kept wriggling against him passionately. “Oh, Piers. I never knew,” she murmured. Her smooth, silken voice had taken on a husky, lover’s tone. When he nibbled a path along the side of her breast, she sucked in a ragged breath.

“ Am I interrupting something?” a booming voice drawled out behind him.

Damnation. Piers lowered his wife to her own feet and reluctantly pulled away from her as she frantically attempted to resituate her gown. Her eyes were panicked. When he turned, careful to block Judith from view, Holbrook stood at the top of the stairs, watching them intently with a lascivious gleam in his cold, black eyes.