A Good Debutante's Guide to Ruin_The Debutante Files

She released a breath of her own. This would be the time to demand that he leave. If she had any sense of modesty or self-preservation at all, she would point to the door. She wasn’t certain who moved next. They came together in one motion, mouths colliding in a hungry kiss. He swept her up, lifting her off the floor. Her toes grazed the carpet as he walked her backward to the bed, one strong arm hard around her waist, his other hand cupping her cheek, their lips never breaking contact.

Her hands curved around his shoulders, his back, smoothing over the firm skin, reveling in the play of muscle and sinew rippling under her palms.

Despite the intensity of their collision, he eased her down gently into the soft bed. His body was hard over hers. His weight slipped between her thighs, her nightgown billowing all around her, loose and insubstantial. No barrier at all.

His mouth consumed her. And his hands. His hands roamed everywhere. Her face. Her throat. She moaned as he kneaded her breasts through her nightgown.

She broke their kiss on a gasp as he yanked her nightgown down, exposing a breast so he could dip his head and take her nipple in his mouth. She sputtered inarticulate sounds, words that might not have been words at all. There was no thought. Just sensation. Just the wet heat of his mouth as he drew her nipple deep, as his teeth scraped the sensitive point and had her fisting his hair with a choked cry.

He came back up, his face hovering over hers, the angles and hollows more pronounced in the shadows, making him appear even more attractive, if possible. “I’m not fighting this anymore.”

She nodded, understanding, relieved. Glad. That was the only description for it. It had been a fight, a struggle, from the very beginning. From the first night she arrived here she’d been at war with herself, running toward and away from Dec. And now the fight was over.

She touched his face with a shaky hand, tracing the rough scrape of his jawline.

“I may regret this tomorrow. You most assuredly will, but I need to hear you say that you want this.” His eyes drilled into her. Everything seemed to slow and pause as he waited for her to answer.

She brought her hand back up his cheek, her fingers roaming over his strong features. “I want you.”

The words were out, but he still hesitated, letting her touch his face, the delicious weight of him bearing her down. He stared like he was memorizing her, and everything inside her swelled with emotion. Without any more words, he simply let her hold his face, watching her watch him.

“I won’t regret this tomorrow,” she murmured as she traced his eyebrows, his nose, his mouth.

He smiled, slow and heart-stoppingly beautiful. Flutters erupted in her belly. “You can’t know that right now.”

“So you’re changing your mind, then?”

His answer was his mouth on hers. His tongue teasing her lips open to tangle with her own. His fingers speared through her hair, pinning her head for his ravaging lips. She squirmed under him, her hips working, thrusting, seeking instinctively an end to this. To the hunger, to the ache. And she felt his desire, too. His hardness was there, pressing between them, prodding through the bunched fabric of her nightgown. She longed for him . . . felt the ache in her very teeth.

His hand arrived there, too, pushing the fabric up to her hips. He pulled back slightly and she mewled her disappointment but devoured the sight of him as he stripped his breeches. Perhaps the enormity of what was about to happen should have struck her then. When he loomed over her stark-naked, that part of him large and so very erect. And yet as he came at her slowly on all fours, she felt only heady anticipation.

His fingers curled around the nightgown bunched at her waist. His gaze didn’t break with hers as he yanked it up and over her head. And then they were both naked. As never before. Her breathing fell ragged then. He swept her with a hot look. “You’re beautiful.”

A happy flush spread through her.

When his body came over her again it was different. Skin-to-skin, no part of them was shielded. His mouth found hers, kissing her until she was wound tighter than a coil, arching and straining against him. His hips nudged her thighs, spreading her wider. She obliged, too eager to harbor any fears.

His fingers found her, skimming up her thighs and parting through her folds to the core of her. She jerked at this first touch. He’d touched there before but she was hardly accustomed to such a thing, and this was different. They were both fully unclothed. Tonight there was no going back.

“You’re so wet. I can’t wait.”

“Don’t.” She arched, digging her nails into his back. “Don’t wait.”

His hands left the core of her, and then he was there, his hardness nudging against her opening, parting her.

He braced his arms on either side of her head and bowed his neck until their foreheads touched. His breath gusted over her lips and mingled with her own.

His hands framed her face, fingers feathering against her hair. He eased in a little deeper, and she felt herself stretch, accommodating him even though he had yet to lodge himself fully. Still, it wasn’t enough. She knew there had to be more.

“Please,” she begged, wiggling her hips and pushing up, trying to take him in deeper. Ready. Hungry for more.

“Rosalie, I don’t want to hurt . . .”

She dragged her hands down his back. Grasping his tight buttocks in both hands, she hauled him to her. He groaned a sound that could have been her name and buried himself deep, fully seating himself inside her.

She arched against him with a cry. It was more discomfort than pain. The sensation, the fullness of him so deeply within her, overwhelming. He was large and pulsing inside her.

“Oh, oh, oh . . .” Her breath escaped in broken little spurts. She had never felt particularly small. Or fragile. But he made her feel like the daintiest of females. Normally she would not have liked feeling so vulnerable, but she knew somehow if she didn’t, then this wouldn’t be what it was.

“I’m sorry, Carrots . . . give yourself a moment to adjust,” he said through gritted teeth. “I can stop.”

Stop? Impossible. She hadn’t come this far to wait another moment. If there was more, she wanted it now.

She looped her arms around his neck and pressed her open mouth against his throat, biting down gently and then licking, loving the taste of him, the warm saltiness of his skin. He quivered under her mouth. “I don’t want a moment.”

“Rosalie—”

“I can’t wait.” She worked her hips, managing to move a little. She moaned at the sudden friction that sent sensation arcing through her.

His fingers dove through her hair, palms cupping her head as he pulled almost all the way out and then drove back inside her.

Her head fell back on the bed. “Yes, yes.”

His hands slid from her hair. He tucked his forearms under her back and curled his hands around her shoulders, fingertips brushing her collarbone.

He repeated the movement inside her. The friction grew. Everything in her tightened, pulling and twisting and squeezing until she felt close to bursting.

His hips pumped between her thighs and a smacking sound filled the air as their bodies came together. It was feral and sent her hunger spiraling.

He wrapped a hand under her thigh and lifted her leg higher. She wasn’t certain what that did or how that changed anything, but she thought she saw stars. She choked on a silent scream as all the tension inside her snapped and she felt like she flew from her skin.

Sinking back on the mattress, her arms fell limply above her head. She felt boneless, her muscles liquid. A silly grin curved her lips. He moved several more times, plunging into her until he stilled, until he released himself into her in a shuddered groan. He fell on her then, his arms still bearing most of his weight.