Need.
Fisting her hands on the lapels of his tailcoat, she pulled him closer, taking comfort in the weight of him pressing against her. She released a wanton moan against his lips, wanting more. It was the second time he had ever kissed her. The first and only was when he was leaving for his Grand Tour. It had been short and sweet, a kiss of beginnings. This, this needy, potent, hungry kiss that they were sharing, was much, much more than that.
Licking the seam of her lips, St. Clara begged for entrance, and she opened greedily to him. The first glide of his tongue against hers was sunshine on a dreary day, a perfect combination of oxygen and hydrogen. Her body erupted in flames, demanding more of him.
The hand that was braced against the door went to her backside, kneading and rubbing. Delicious sparks of pleasure zipped through her body, causing her toes to curl in her slippers. His hardness pressed against her abdomen, and pride filled her, knowing that it was her, bluestocking Pippa Price, who brought the Duke of St. Clara pleasure.
Their hungry, fevered kiss slowed. Hot lips trailed down her cheek to her neck where she arched, allowing him full access to her. In the back of her mind, Pippa knew that this was madness.She had avoided him by every means possible, but ever since she had seen him outside her home, a hunger had awakened.
Scientifically, she understood attraction to a member of the opposite sex, but this seemed to be more. When she entered Julia’s parlor to see Florentia Vaughn laughing loudly at something St. Clara said, everything inside of Pippa changed. She found that she no longer wanted to hold on to their past. What she wanted from him was purely scientific research.
She wanted him in a physical way, something that she had discovered that night outside of their homes. Pippa couldn’t stop thinking about him, and seeing him withherhad sent a possessive anger through her, one that she hadn’t had in years.
“I want you, Kitten, only you.” The desperate confession caused a sob to escape her throat before a soft bite to her exposed skin changed the sound to a throaty moan of need.
Her hands went around his neck. Fingers found silky strands as he devoured her. Her core throbbed and ached, causing her to squeeze her thighs together to elevate some of the excruciating hunger. Each lick and nibble to her sensitive skin had her mewling like a cat in heat.
“St. Clara,” she moaned, the title sounding foreign to her own ears.
He nibbled his way back to her lips, each little bite causing her to quiver. St. Clara kissed her roughly, taking what he wanted from her, and she gave it willingly.
Through the haze of their lust-filled kiss, Pippa could hear voices growing louder with every step, but she couldn’t remove herself from the complete bliss of St. Clara’s kiss.
St. Clara was vaguely aware of voices that couldn’t possibly belong to him or Pippa on the other side of the door. He was finding it very difficult to focus on anything but the woman in his arms. Trying not to rejoice at the turn of events, he couldn’t help the smugness that filled his chest. After all, it had been nine long agonizing years, it couldn’t possibly be as simple as a kiss.
The silky material of her gown glided against his fingertips as his hand slid to her backside. St. Clara was desperate to feel every part of her; he had years to make up for, and this was his time.
Nipping at her bottom lip, he teased it with his teeth. Pippa moaned into his mouth, tightening her grip on his hair. He didn’t care. Nothing mattered but her.
Kitten.
“Have you seen Pippa?” Julia’s quizzical voice called on the other side of the thick wooden door.
“No, I’m in search of St. Clara,” came Heartford’s confused reply.
Pippa released his lips; it was a shame, really, for he loved being her captive. She stared up at him with wide eyes, a few wisps of hair dangling around her pretty face.
God, was she glorious.
Her lips were swollen from his kisses, hazel eyes full of fire, the green more prominent than any other color. He could still recall the colors they changed to based on her moods when they were children. They often turned green when she was full ofpassion. He remembered the color fondly as they would often argue.
“We have to reveal ourselves,” Pippa whispered to him as they heard their friends on the other side of the door.
Placing an opened-mouth kiss at the corner of her mouth, he enjoyed the whimper she released before she craned toward him, wanting more.
“Marry me, not Summerset.” The words sounded desperate and mad to his own ears, but he wanted nothing more. She was his friend; the best thing that had ever happened to him was meeting her. For years he had depended on their friendship; every end of term, he couldn’t wait to return to her. “I’ve been miserable without you. Let’s do what we meant to nine years ago,” he whispered against her mouth, frantically wanting her to say yes. “We were always meant to be.”
Gasping in shock, Pippa’s eyes were wide, her skin suddenly pale. Before he could inquire about what he’d said to upset her, the doorknob jiggled, and he quickly pulled Pippa away.
The door opened, revealing husband and wife both looking aghast at discovering Pippa and St. Clara alone and in an intimate embrace.
Damn Heartford for barging in and interrupting his time with her!St. Clara was sure she was about to say yes. His hand tightened around her waist, wanting to keep her in his arms forever. The small bit of joy that started bursting inside of him deflated as a gentle push to his chest had St. Clara turning cold.
Pippa stepped away from him, turning around to face the new arrivals. He immediately felt the loss of her. The ache started in the pit of his stomach, traveling to his chest where it began expanding. It was cold, dark, and familiar, and he loathed it.
“Oh, there you two are,” Julia said in a high-pitched squeal, her gaze avoiding Pippa and St. Clara.
Heartford gently pushed his wife into the room, closing the door behind him. “I see you did something.” He folded his arms over his chest, glaring at St. Clara like he was Pippa’s father. “I admit I meant something within the confines of propriety.”
