Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 128 - Hundred And Twenty Eight

This kiss was not a chaste greeting. It was a claiming. His lips moved over hers, firm and demanding. He tasted the sweetness of her, and the faint taste of the sherry she must have had to calm her nerves.

Ines gasped, her lips parting, and Carcel took the invitation instantly. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, tasting her, devouring her.

A low sound vibrated in his throat—a growl of hunger. He moved his hands from her face to her waist, pulling her flush against him. He needed to feel her heartbeat against his own.

Ines melted into him. Her arms wound around his neck, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. She held on to him as if he were the only solid thing in a spinning world.

Carcel began to walk her backward. He didn’t break the kiss. He couldn’t. He was starving for her. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

They stumbled slightly as he guided her toward the wall. Ines didn’t protest. She went with him, her body pliable and soft against his hard frame.

Her back hit the wall with a soft thud.

The impact seemed to shatter the last of Carcel’s restraint. He pressed his body against hers, pinning her there. He buried one hand in her hair, dislodging a pin, letting a curl fall loose. The other hand roamed down her back, tracing the curve of her spine through the dress.

"Carcel..." Ines moaned into his mouth. The sound drove him mad.

He broke the kiss for a second to trail hot, wet kisses down her jawline. He found the sensitive spot just below her ear and bit down gently, making her gasp and arch her neck to give him better access.

"I want you," he whispered against her skin. "God, Ines. I want you so much it hurts."

He brought his knee between her legs, pressing against the heavy fabric of her skirt. Ines let out a shaky breath, her head falling back against the wall.

Carcel’s hand moved down her waist, over the curve of her hip. He bunched the dress in his fist, pulling the skirt up. He needed to touch her. He needed to feel skin, not fabric.

He lifted her leg, hooking it over his hip. Ines wrapped her leg around him instinctively, pulling him closer.

His hand slid underneath the layers of petticoats and silk. His palm found her calf, clad in a sheer silk stocking. The friction of his rough palm against the smooth silk sent a jolt of electricity through both of them.

His hand glided upward. Past the ankle. Past the calf. Up to the soft, warm skin of her thigh, just above the garter.

His thumb teased the hem of her stocking, tracing circles on the sensitive skin there.

Ines shuddered. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, gripping his coat so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"Carcel," she gasped, her voice breathless and hazy.

He captured her lips again, swallowing her cry. The kiss was frantic now, fueled by the adrenaline of the danger they were in and the sheer relief of being together. For a moment, there was no danger. There was only this. The heat. The wall. The taste of her.

His fingers squeezed her thigh gently, urging her closer, threatening to go higher.

Ines’s mind was spinning. Her body was screaming for him to continue. It would be so easy to let go. So easy to forget everything and just be with him.

But then, a flicker of reason returned. The door was unlocked. The servants were just down the hall. And the wedding... the wedding they were fighting so hard to save...

Ines tore her mouth away from his. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily, her chest heaving against his.

"Carcel... stop," she panted.

Carcel froze. His hand was still on her thigh, burning hot even through the silk. His forehead rested against hers. He was breathing hard, ragged breaths that matched hers.

He didn’t move away immediately. It took a moment for the words to penetrate the fog of desire.

"Stop?" he repeated, his voice thick and gravelly.

Ines pushed gently against his chest. She lowered her leg slowly, and Carcel let his hand slide away, smoothing her skirt back down with a trembling hand.

She looked up at him. Her lips were swollen and red. Her eyes were bright with desire, but also with determination.

"I miss you so much, Ines," Carcel said again, and this time it sounded like a plea. He looked wrecked. His hair was messy, his cravat—which she had fixed so carefully—was now askew.

Ines reached up and touched his cheek. She tried to catch her breath, inhaling deeply to steady her racing heart.

"I miss you too," she whispered. "More than I can say."

She stepped out of the circle of his arms, putting a tiny bit of distance between them. She needed the space to think. She needed the cool air to clear her head.

She smoothed her hair, trying to pin the loose curl back into place, though her hands were still shaking.

"But we cannot," she said softly. She looked him in the eye. "Remember the rule?"

Carcel let out a long, frustrated groan. He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment.

"The rule," he muttered.

"No intimacy until after the wedding," Ines said firmly, though her voice wavered on the last word. "We made a promise, Carcel. If we break it now... with everything else happening..."

She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to. They both knew that if they lost control now, with the stress and the fear hanging over them, it would feel like a defeat. They wanted their intimacy to be a celebration, not a desperate escape from reality.

Carcel opened his eyes. He looked at her, and slowly, the heat in his gaze cooled into a simmering, affectionate warmth. He straightened his coat and ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain some of his composure.

"You are a cruel woman, Ines Hamilton," he said, though there was no malice in his tone. "You invite a starving man to a banquet and tell him he cannot eat."

"The banquet will taste better if we wait," Ines promised, a small, teasing smile returning to her face. " Besides, the banquet before us is getting cold."

Carcel chuckled darkly. He stepped forward and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles, his eyes locked on hers.

"Then let us sit," Carcel said, gesturing toward the table where the cold soup awaited them. "And finish what we came to do this evening."