Excerpt from To Love a Scoundrel
Intent only on Jewel now, on tasting, touching, feeling her, Brent plunged his hands into her hair and wrapped the long tresses around his fingers. As he crushed his mouth to hers, as she matched his urgency, Brent inhaled and was suddenly filled with her essence. She smelled of violets—fresh violets. Where had she found a field of flowers? Or was it all in his mind? Brent suddenly wondered if he even had a mind, and that not entirely lucid thought was his last as their passion ignited, consuming them both.
Entwined together, two candles twisting, melting in the heat of their own desire, they spiraled down to the thick carpet. Jewel knew she was out of control, out of her mind, but it didn't matter. She was frantic to have him inside her, to have him fill the source of her heat and extinguish the exquisite flames. Only then would she be able to think again, to become herself anew, and to return as the master of her own mind, ruler of her mutinous body.
Too eager, too much in a hurry for caution or regrets, she tore at Brent's cravat and ripped the buttons from his expensive shirt. Soothed for a moment, she let her fingers luxuriate in the thick mat of hair on his chest—but only for a moment. As Brent's kiss deepened, as their heated bodies rolled across the carpet, each one seeking dominance and the way to best find primal gratification, Jewel busied herself with his belt buckle and the buttons beneath it.