If Love Were Enough by Suzanne Quill Page A

head.
    This proved to her he could be the one to solve her dilemma. He had the virility. And he wanted her. She knew it. If she’d had the courage, she could have lost her virginity this very night.
    But she was still afraid.
    What would he think of her virgin state? In her brief time with the ton she had heard rumors of the rakes. The two most memorable were that a rake wanted a virgin for his bride, but outside his marriage bed, a rake did not want a virgin for his mistress.
    So where did that leave her? She could not be his virgin bride, nor could she be his experienced mistress.
    It was too much for her to think about tonight.
    Exhaustion overtaking her, Priscilla rose from the hearth and moved to her bed, shedding her silk robe along the way. Pulling back the counterpane and linens, she slid her naked body deep under the covers, shivering from the cool sheets. She snuggled up in hopes of warming quickly.
    Thinking about warmth and heat, her thoughts returned to her experiences with Brandon.
    Lord Brookfield had not Robert’s challenges. His response was instantaneous. She believed he was aroused when he first entered her chamber. After that, her actions must have just increased the effect.
    To touch a younger man, virile and strong, was more than she had ever dreamt or wished for.
    Was that why she did it? To experience the pure maleness of him?
    No, that could not be right. She had any number of the gentlemen vying for her attentions two nights before and she had no desire to be so forward with any of them.
    It was just Lord Brookfield. Brandon. There was something in particular about him.
    The intimate, knowing look in his jade green eyes.
    The way he ran his fingers through his hair when he was thinking or befuddled.
    The width and strength of his shoulders.
    The trim line of his waist and hips.
    She could see him sitting there watching her. She knew he wanted to touch her. Could sense the need, the tension, the desire in him, when she knelt before him.
    But he kept his promise. His hands remained on the arms of his chair the whole while. There were moments his tension was so great, she thought he might rip the arms right off the chair.
    Yes, he had very much wanted to touch her.
    Truth be told, she desired his touch. The more she stroked, sucked and fondled him the more she wanted to know how it would feel to have his hands upon her bare flesh.
    Were his hands rough or smooth? Hard or soft?
    Robert’s hands had been cramped with arthritis. They had been so crippled there were times when she had to feed him. He rarely touched her. It physically pained him and seemed to embarrass him that his hands were so disfigured.
    She had never felt a man’s hands upon her skin, not in tenderness, affection, nor desire.
    And Brandon had become urgent with his desire. He had tried so hard to maintain control. She sensed the restraint in him when she had slid her hands up his thighs. He was like a coiled spring, all tension, ready to release at any moment.
    But he had controlled himself until he could no longer bear it.
    Priscilla thought of his hips bucking against her face, his sex, very large, very hot and very hard, pulsing inside her mouth until his release overtook him and he spilled his seed.
    This had been a stunning new sensation. This had been what Robert had wanted. This had generated a potent sense of power in her, that she could make a man respond in this manner, want her with such urgency, such all-consuming need.
    And then to be able to sate that need. . . .
    It had been miraculous.
    And, if what she had done with her mouth had been so intense, so wonderful, what would it be like to feel Brandon inside her as her body was built to receive him? In the way Robert had so desperately desired to have her?
    But Brandon would have to touch her to do that and she feared she wouldn’t, couldn’t, control her response. Her body was so sensitive to him, when he just stood next to her. She seemed to feel every pore, every