Nothing had ever felt sweeter.
Her lips were as soft as he’d imagined. The tart tongue beneath a defense mechanism to keep out those who were not worthy. She opened herself to him.
He flung her bonnet aside and released the pins from her hair. Her mane was long and lustrous, a river of shining softness. He was glad she had not curled it. He never wanted her to do anything that made her feel she wasn’t being true to herself.
If she preferred top hats to bonnets, so be it.
He didn’t care what she wore. He cared who shewas. All he wanted was to keep kissing her. For the rest of the day, for the rest of the week, for the rest of the month.
Who cared about calculating numbers and keeping journals? The only figures he cared about were the two of theirs pressed close together. The only plan worth following was the one that kept her mouth beneath his.
That it couldn’t last was immaterial. Nothing lasted. He learned that long ago. More importantly he had also learned to take advantage of opportunities when they arose. Moments as delicious as these were fleeting, and meant to be cherished as long as possible.
Shewas meant to be cherished. By someone other than him, he remembered belatedly.
The bubble of forbidden joy popped.
He would not be keeping her. The best he could hope was to give her a memory she would not soon forget.
Chapter 13
Although this was only her first kiss, Bryony realized in a heartbeat that Max’s “ice king” demeanor and melting kisses had ruined her for all other men.
His body was hard, his muscles stiff, as if fighting an uncontrollable urge to plunder far more than her mouth. His lips were firm, possessive. Demanding, freely taking what the rest of him would not.
He did not seek her submission, but her very soul. Coaxed her innermost desires to the surface with every brush of his lips, every stroke of his thumb against the side of her cheek. He treated her not as if she were an unwanted interloper, but as if she were a treasure more precious than silver. Softer than rose petals. More addictive than opium.
Heaven knew she felt the same.
Her heart pounded faster than ever. She’d been lost from the first, was losing further ground by the moment. She clutched him like a life raft rescuing her from a sea of doubt and denial. In his arms lay both safety and seduction.
In the back of her mind, the whirlpool of reality threatened to pluck her out of his embrace and pull her down into the depths of despair where moments like these were forbidden and wrong.
If she were honest, she had believed giving into her desires would prove their incompatibility. That he was not for her. That together they were nothing.
Instead, everything about him was horribly, perfectly, right.
She ran her hands over his chest and secretly thrilled that he permitted her to do so. As if his body was no longer his to defend, but hers to explore. To enjoy.
His ardent kisses made it all but impossible to think. She did not mind. This was not a time for thinking.
The palms of her hands told her the width of his shoulders, the coiled strength in his arms, the softness of his black hair where it curled over the edge of his starched cravat.
He was like her, she realized. He had not cut his hair to a more fashionable length, nor had he shaved his jaw to appear more respectable. He was none of those things.
He was wild and untamed and devastatingly handsome. The starch in his cravat was not for Society, but forher.
The pristine tailcoat, the polished boots, the iridescent waistcoat of jade and emerald, dreams and battles. He had chosen this outfit with the same care that she had chosen her own. Not to impress the world, but the one person who mattered within it.
She gasped as his tongue licked into her mouth, tasting her, knowing her ever more intimately. When she did the same, he growled and pulled her even closer. Her bosom touched his chest. It felt overfull and delightfully sensitive.
Being up on her toes to kiss him imbalanced her, giving her no choice but to lean fully into his embrace.
Not that she’d ever had a choice. As soon as she’d received his note, she knew she would kiss him. If he hadn’t pulled her into his embrace, she would have had no choice but to do so herself.
She couldn’t stand the separation any longer. Not just the wretched hours they spent away from one another, but any time so much as an arm’s width separated them.
She wanted every moment of every day to be just like this. Bodies pressed too tightly together to tell where one ended and the other began. Lips melded, tongues clashing. His hands plunged in her hair and hers in his.
