The Naked Earl (Naked Nobility)

is the third book in the Naked Nobility series.
==Book Description==
He Took Her By Surprise
When a naked earl climbs through the window into her bedchamber, Lady Elizabeth Runyon does the proper thing: She screams. Loudly. And then…well, Lizzie has had enough of being proper. She wishes to be bold. Wanton, even. She won’t be commanded to put on her nightgown. Just this once, she will be absolutely daring…
She Returned the Favor
Robert Hamilton, Earl of Westbrooke, has no intention of being tricked into marriage by a detestable female, and if he has to flee naked across a rooftop, he will. Jolly good there’s an open window waiting--as well as an undressed, slightly drunk, and alluringly beautiful Lady Elizabeth. Oh, dear. If they are caught together, he might have to marry her. The idea is delicious…and the temptation is irresistible…
(Description from SallyMacKenzie.net)
==Excerpt==
From Chapter 1:
Lizzie scowled at the bedpost. She should have poured that last glass of ratafia over Robbie’s head. That would have livened things up. Ha! She pictured the looks of horror that would have adorned the assembled ton if Lady Elizabeth Runyon, sister of the Duke of Alvord, pattern card of respectability, had caused such a scene.
At least she would have gotten Robbie’s attention. She’d wager next quarter’s pin-money on that.
She looked at her mirror again. It was very daring standing here naked. She straightened, letting go of the bedpost. Perhaps she should be daring this Season. Wanton, even. Playing by the rules hadn’t gotten her what she wanted--whom she wanted--so she’d break them. 
She put her hands back on her breasts. She sighed. The poor little things barely filled her palms--they would be lost in Robbie’s larger hands. 
Mmm. She half-closed her eyes, biting her bottom lip. Robbie’s hands. His long fingers, his broad palms. On her skin. 
She felt very daring indeed. More than daring--hot. She rubbed her thumbs over her nipples. The harp string started vibrating again. She licked her lips, arching her hips, spreading her legs slightly so the breeze might find and cool her where she most needed cooling. 
What would it feel like if Robbie touched her there?
Her hand slid down her body.
“My God!”
A male voice, hoarse and strained. She screamed as her eyes flew open. Robbie’s reflection was staring at her in the mirror. Robbie’s very naked reflection.
She spun to face him, grabbing the bedpost to keep from falling. The room shifted unpleasantly, then righted. She blinked. Yes, Robbie was still there, still naked, standing just inside her window.
She had never seen a naked man before, except in paintings or statues. She stared. 
Art did not do reality justice. Not at all. 
Then again, perhaps no artist had ever had a model quite as splendid as Robbie. 
He looked so different from the civilized London lord she had left downstairs. He was larger. Well, obviously, he could not have grown simply by shedding his clothes, but it certainly seemed as if he had. His neck, freed from yards of muffling cravat and concealing collar, was a study in angles and shadows. And his shoulders...How had they fit into his coat? 
She never would have guessed he had hair sprinkled across his chest. Golden red hair dusting down to his flat stomach, then spreading out below his navel around....
Oh, my. 
She’d never seen that in any art work.