This was Georgiana, for Christ's sake. He knew it with crystal clarity. And he was enraptured. After tasting and touching every soft inch of her, he was overwhelmed by the desire to possess her fully. His mind was as coldly aware as his body was drunk with a primitive desire to mark her as his own. And now she was crooning encouragement for him to enter her and possess her fully. He couldn't have torn himself away from her at this point even if his conscience had demanded it. All of his bodily desires would have bound and gagged his scruples, without question. Her skin was so soft. He hadn't guessed it. Even in the pitch of night he could see she was very bronzed from the sun and her body was supple and strong. And yet touching her arms, her breasts, and the flesh between her thighs, he had felt sleek femininity and downy softness. The taste of her flesh and the scent emanating from her skin was as intoxicating and fragile as a wild rose after a spring shower—equal parts sweetness, rain, and earth.
