Now what?
What the bloody hell had he been thinking? Did he mean to lay hands on her?
That would be a bad idea.
A very, very bad idea.
“You wouldn’t dare touch me,” she said, and laughed with all the unconcern of the innocent.
He remained silent, unable to trust himself to speak. He wouldn’tdare?
“Your reputation is so very salacious, but I’ve found little to warrant it. Surprising, really.” She scoffed. “The Dissolute Duke, my arse.”
What was this? Was he some flaccid, toothless old man?
Well, wasn’t she in for a surprise?
In another great stride, he closed the remaining distance between them, taking particular delight in watching her unconcerned smile transform into very concerned shock as she bolted upright and began a sloshy scramble away from him.
But she’d started too late.
He was scooping her up in the next instant. Of their own accord, her arms lifted and slid around his neck to steady herself. Her face separated from his by mere inches, they stared at each other in utter shock. Her arms began to tighten around his neck and her lips parted a fraction, wide enough for her tongue to dart out and wet them. Before he understood what she was about, her mouth was pressed against his.
A wave of impressions flooded him.Soft…sweet…She tasted of sugar…of prosecco and lemon and woman…of everything delicious in the world.
On carnal instinct, his tongue slid through her parted lips, unable to resist a deeper taste of her, knowing to his bones a taste would never be enough…
She gasped.
And like that, he knew what else she tasted of.
Innocence.
He jerked back, tearing himself away from the kiss, and met eyes wide with shock. He didn’t kiss innocent women. Further, he didn’t kiss tippled women, especially when he was stone sober. And this woman wasn’t just any woman, but an unmarried one. Most assuredly a virgin, her reaction to his tongue told her.
Right.
Confusion and curiosity warring in her eyes, her arms tightened around his neck, bringing her mouth closer to his. The chit was trying to kiss him…again.
He averted his face and began wading to the edge of the fountain. For such a tall woman, she weighed hardly anything, even sopping wet. He nearly dropped her when her mouth found his neck, her warm breath raising goose bumps along his skin.
Then she licked him, her tongue a slick drag up his neck.
Was the woman trying to get herself ravished?
“Mm, salty,” she said, breathy. “I wonder where else you’re salty.”
He could provide a thorough tutorial.
Stoically, he kept moving until they reached the grass, where he unceremoniously deposited her. “Dress yourself,” he commanded and pivoted so his back faced her. He couldn’t watch her struggle into her clothes, without offering to help.
Perhaps not without helping himself toher.
And that would be ungentlemanly.
While he’d come to Italy tonotbe a gentleman, a man must adhere to a few principles. Not taking advantage of an intoxicated woman was one of them.
But, oh, how his body screamed for just one more taste of her…
