When they could no longer hear his departure, Piers turned to her again. Judith held the ripped fabric up over her chest with one hand, breathing deeply.

He stared down her, his gaze roving over her face to her chest and back again. It was a possessive look. Primitive. Needy. One so very similar to how Lord Quinton always looked at Aurora. Could it truly be?

“ I’d better get you behind closed doors before I rip the rest of your gown from your body and someone else comes upon us.”

“ Of course,” was all she could say in response. Rip her gown off? She hadn’t realized it was possible to get any hotter than she’d already been.

Piers took her free hand and pulled her along behind him, forcing her almost into a run in order to keep up with his long legs. She trembled all the while with anticipation and the slightest amount of trepidation.

At the end of the hall, he turned the opposite direction from Lord Holbrook. After a few more turns, he opened the door to their suite and drew her inside behind him, closing the door and pushing her up against it in a single movement.

Then his hands were everywhere: on her breasts, in her hair, behind her and kneading her derriere, pulling her gown up to bunch at her waist, roving over her thighs. His length pressed into her stomach, hot and hard, and as thick as ever. If the door weren’t holding her up, Judith was certain she’d be a puddle on the floor. As it was, her legs had turned to jelly and shook harder with each new sensation.

His mouth was on her again, suckling on her nipple in that glorious, wicked, sinful way he’d done before. She couldn’t stop herself from calling out and drawing closer to him, closer to his heat and strength.