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Chapter 22 - Twenty-Two: The Ghost of Eleanor
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... he door clicked locked, he had me against the bookshelf. My back hit the wood, his mouth found mine, and I swallowed his groan—or maybe he swallowed mine. I couldn’t tell anymore. It never failed to undo me.
His hands were everywhere. In my hair, on my waist, dragging up my thighs where my skirts had ridden high. I fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat, made an impatient sound, and he laughed against my mouth before pushing my hands aside and undoing them himself.
"Impatient, ...
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