Today I have an excerpt to share from Cara Elliott’s latest release Sinfully Yours, which releases 2/25. If you enjoy the excerpt, you can pre-order a copy using the link below. First, here’s some info about the book:
THE HELLIONS OF HIGH STREET SERIES CONTINUES WITH SINFULLY YOURS…
Proper young ladies of the ton-especially ones who have very small dowries-are not encouraged to have an interest in intellectual pursuits. Indeed, the only things they are encouraged to pursue are eligible bachelors. So, the headstrong Sloane sisters must keep their passions a secret. Ah, but secret passions are wont to lead a lady into trouble . . .
After an eventful Season, Anna Sloane longs for some peace and quiet to pursue her writing. Though her plots might be full of harrowing adventure and heated passion, she’d much prefer to leave such exploits on the page rather than experience them in real life. Or so she thinks until she encounters the darkly dissolute-and gorgeously charming-Marquess of Davenport.
Davenport has a reputation as a notorious rake whose only forte is wanton seduction. However the real reason he’s a guest at the same remote Scottish castle has nothing to do with Anna . . . until a series of mysterious threats leave him no choice but to turn to her for help in stopping a dangerous conspiracy. As desire erupts between them, Davenport soon learns he’s not the only one using a carefully crafted image to hide his true talents. And he’s more than ready to show Anna that sometimes reality can be even better than her wildest imaginings . . .
Now, please enjoy the excerpt:
The tiny throb of her pulse beneath his fingertips had signaled her time was up. Devlin leaned in and felt their bodies graze, their lips touch.
A mere touch, and yet it sent a jolt of fire through him.
He froze. The distant laughter, the faint trilling of the violins, the rustling leaves all gave way to a strange thrumming sound in his ears.
Anna shifted and Devlin shook off the sensation. It must be the brandy, he decided. He had just come from his club, where he had been sampling a potent vintage brought up from the wine cellar. Women had no such effect on him.
A kiss was a distraction, nothing more. A way to keep boredom at bay.
“Go to Hell.” Anna’s whisper teased against his mouth as she jerked back.
“Eventually,” growled Devlin. “But first . . .” He kissed her again. A harder, deeper, possessive embrace.
Her lips tremored uncertainly.
Seizing the moment, he slipped his tongue through the tiny gap and tasted a beguiling mix of warmth and spice. Impossible to describe.
He needed to taste more.
Clasping his arms around her waist, Devlin pushed her back a little roughly, pinning her body to the unyielding stone. She tensed and twisted . . .
I am Satan’s spawn.
. . . and then went still.
Time seemed to stop, hang suspended within the shifting shadows of the fluttering leaves. A myriad sensations seemed to skate over his skin. Fire. Ice. The slow softening of her resistance.
Anna made another sound. No words, just a soft feline purr that drifted off into the darkness. She moved, tilting forward in a tentative tasting of her own. Entwined, they swayed, weightless in the cool caress of the night.
Somewhere close by, a door opened and shut.
The echo broke the strange spell. With a shudder, Anna wrenched free of his hold, a gasp fluttering through her gloved fingertips as she touched her lips.
Devlin blinked, not quite certain of his own feelings.
For a fleeting moment it looked as though she was going to speak, but instead, she shoved him aside and walked off without a word.
Walked with her head held high, her spine ramrod straight, he noted, rather than pelter off in a torrent of tears and sobs.
Hard and soft—no question Anna Sloane was a contradiction.
Which made her a conundrum.
But Devlin liked puzzles. They kept his own inner demons at bay.