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carried her to the damask-covered settee and arranged her on her back, sinking to his knees on the floor beside her. Gooseflesh raced across her skin. One of her legs was lifted and draped over his muscular shoulder, then his head lowered to the glistening flesh between her thighs.
    The first teasing lick made her arch upward with heated lust. Sweat misted skin that felt too tight and hot. “I am too fast with you,” she gasped.
    “Am I not equally so with you?”
    “You are a man.”
    “I promise to make you happy about that.”
    Annie laughed, then caught her breath, her stomach concaving as he covered her with his mouth.
“Yes.”
    Her moan echoed through the cavernous room, her fingers pushing into the silky curtain of his hair. He tongued her gently, the pointed tip stroking feather light over her distended clitoris. Pleasure coiled like a compressed spring. Too swiftly. “Raphael. Please.”
    “Not yet.” Lips curving against her, he angled his head and speared his tongue into her quivering sex.
    Beyond shyness or shame, she tightened her leg over his shoulder, tugging him closer. Raphael obliged with a growl, fucking her aching flesh with quick fierce stabs. She rocked into his working mouth, circling her hips without thought or reason. Effortlessly, he lifted her, balancing her with one hand as he pushed two unyielding copper fingers inside her.
    Fingers that
vibrated
.
    Annie jerked in startled delight. The slightly ribbed texture of the flexing joint meshing sent tremors through her limbs. She sobbed as the vibration increased, beading her nipples into painfully hard points. He began to thrust, his fingers pumping through her spasming tissues with tender purpose. Determined. Expert. Knowing just the spot to rub with those wickedly pulsating fingertips. All the while he sucked her clitoris, tugging and worrying the sensitive point with frenzied flicks of his tongue.
    She gasped his name as she shuddered into an orgasm so powerful it blackened her vision. Violent trembling wracked her body and she clung to the edge of the settee, seeking an anchor as reality fell away.
    The baron lowered her gently to the cushion, his wet mouth nuzzling against her inner thigh before he withdrew from her and pushed to his feet with powerful grace. He undressed swiftly and unabashedly, his abdomen lacing tightly as he dispensed with his boots, a task impossible for most men without the aid of a valet. Flushed with lust, lips wet and swollen from the attention he’d paid to her, the baron’s gaze slid over her like a tangible caress: soft, yet resolute; his mind clearly occupied with all the ways he wanted her and how he would have her.
    It was a novel and highly exciting perusal for her. Gaspard had been nearly as untried as she had been, their love having grown from adolescence. Raphael was mature and delectably well-practiced.
    He set one knee on the cushion between her sprawled legs and stabilized himself with one hand around the wooden lip of the seatback. “What are you thinking?”
    She realized then how exposed she was, how immodest and unguarded. “What have you done to me?”
    He cupped her cheek with his free hand. “No more than you have done to me. This arm you admire is not the one given to me on the battlefield. Such craftsmanship could not be found in that hell. The grafting of the first, crude replacement was excruciating. Death would have been a kindness and there were days when I prayed for it. Gaspard Vangess—awash in needless guilt that I had shielded him from the blast that took my arm—would sit with me and distract me with tales of you. He regaled me with stories of a rambunctious girl with freckles on her nose and mischief in her blue eyes. Mindless with agony and laudanum, my mind took possession of the memories he shared. For a time in my delirium, you were mine and I loved you beyond all reason. It was for you that I recovered, only to realize you were a dream that belonged to another man, a