" So this was passion, these intense sensations centered below her belly that made her feel boneless as satin and…and hot as…
Faith, she couldn’t think what. Her knees were open and her bosom bare, and she just wanted more. More. More heat, more stroking, more…
A keening began low in her throat that matched the building intensity between her legs. His fingers inside her fell into a provocative, rushing rhythm that was like…like…
“That’s it, my lovely Jane,” Dom whispered against her breast. “Give yourself to the dance.”
Ah, yes, like dancing. Only better. Because the music rising inside her came from her pounding heart and beating blood, from Dom’s devilish playing upon her privates, from the crescendo…of her own…quickening…gasps…
Someone screamed. Her, apparently, for Dom uttered an oath seconds before he swallowed her cry with his kiss.
And just like that, she vaulted out of the dance into heaven. Her body shook and her hand gripped his neck hard enough to leave marks, and it was marvelous. Every inch of her felt alive, from bones to flesh to skin.
She wanted to shout, but Dom’s mouth wouldn’t leave hers. His tongue slid silkily in and out, slowing, softening, bringing her down from wherever it was she’d been.
After a while, his kiss gentled to a tender sweetness that made her ache in a different way.
In her heart. Her stupid, foolish heart.
Regretfully, she drew her lips from his, and he let her, though his gaze didn’t leave her face. He drew up her bodice, pulled down her skirts, and lifted her until she was sitting straight up on his lap.
His thing felt like a rod of iron beneath her bottom, but he made no move to have her touch it again. Which was good because at the moment, she could only sit there, limp and panting.
He briefly kissed her forehead. “That, sweeting, is passion,” he said in a throttled voice.
She nodded. It was all she could manage.
“And if you wish to leave this room an innocent, you’d best go without delay.”
That startled her. But she was grateful for the warning. Because now that their encounter was done, and she was returning to reality, she realized how mad this was. If she still meant to marry Edwin…
No, she couldn’t think about that. Not right now, when she had Dom’s taste in her mouth and his scent engulfing her senses.
Blushing, she rose from his lap and straightened her clothes, sure that if she came across anyone in the halls, they would guess at once what she’d been doing. Thank heaven the servants had probably already retired to their quarters. She would die if any of them saw her and guessed she’d been playing the wanton.
“Dom…” she began, not sure what to say. Thank you? That was lovely? When may we do it again?
Not that. If they ever did this again, she wouldn’t rest until he made her his. And she still wasn’t sure she wanted that.
“It’s all right, Jane,” he said tightly, as if he could read the conflict inside her. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
She bobbed her head and fled. "

― Sabrina Jeffries , If the Viscount Falls (The Duke's Men, #4)