He hadn’t planned on seeing her this afternoon; he’d sent word that he would escort her to another party that evening, but then he’d spent the morning with Frederick going over accounts, and it had gotten to the point where Frederick had tossed him out of the house because he was so restless.

Naturally, he’d walked over here, barely realizing he had until he’d been striding up the steps.

“Good afternoon.” Lady Della walked up to him with a puzzled frown on her face. “Is there a change in plans? You could have written a note.”

Griffith glanced around the hallway, making sure nobody else was there, and then he placed his hand on her waist and drew her up against his body. “I couldn’t wait. I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

He held his breath, waiting for her to react, wanting to be certain she was of the same mind as before.

But it seemed she was, since the corner of her mouth drew up into a sensual smile, and then she licked her lips as she met his gaze. “I thought of you all night,” she replied, reaching up to thread her fingers through his hair and draw his head down to hers.

Their mouths met in a ferocious clash, and he nearly groaned aloud at how good she tasted. Her tongue slid into his mouth where it tangled with his, and her hands gripped his hair, tugging him closer still.

He had initiated the kiss, but now she was the aggressor, taking one hand out of his hair to slide it down his back, then under his jacket to rest at the small of his back, edging up against him so they were pressed against one another.

She took her other hand out of his hair and put it on his hand, the one resting at her waist, then moved his hand up so his fingers were just under her breast. He took the hint, cupping her breast, rubbing his palm against her nipple, feeling it press through the fabric as it stiffened.

His cock was stiff as well, pressing up against her lower belly. He knew she felt it because she made a low noise in her throat and shifted so his cock was fully pressed against her. And then she moved again, causing a delicious friction.

If he weren’t an experienced man of twenty-eight years he would have spent by now. As it was, the only thought in his head was that he absolutely should not lay her down on the floor in the hallway, shove her skirts up to her waist, and thrust inside.

Even though he was seriously considering it.

She kissed him deeper, harder, making low moans in her throat, pulling him closer to her, so close his fingers were crushed against her breast, not that either one of them was complaining about that.