She was not imagining it now. He had tipped his head forward, and his blue gaze burned into hers. His breath skated over her lips, warm and tempting. “Yes?”
“Stop talking.” His hand slid into the hair at her nape, and in the next instant, his lips claimed hers.
Lydia went still, adjusting to the strange sensation of a man’s mouth upon hers. Not just any man’s, but Warwick’s.Oh.His lips, like his kiss, were surprisingly supple. He kissed her gently at first, a series of light, teasing pecks that left her yearning for more. At last, his tongue swept over the seam of her lips. She gasped, and then everything changed.
He groaned deep within his throat and angled her head to press his advantage. His tongue, bold and plundering, slid inside her mouth. The sensation was decadent. Shocking. Her hands flitted to his broad shoulders, every part of her body alive, aware of him in a way she could not yet comprehend. She breathed him in, tasted him, felt his corded muscles and tempting strength. Despite herself, she leaned forward, her breasts crushing against his chest, and moved her lips in a mimicry of his, kissing him back.
Warwick was kissing her. His tongue was in her mouth. She was clutching and clinging to him like a wanton. Her maid slumbered not ten feet away. Anyone, at any moment, could come upon them and she would be ruined. Somehow, that knowledge only served to enhance the awareness careening through her.
Her nipples hardened, her breasts aching and full where they strained against him, and the strangest pulse of longing began between her thighs. Good heavens, he kissed as she would have supposed he would, with a masterful persuasion that marked him as a rake of the first order. She should not be so easily affected by a man with such dubious skill, and most definitely not by Warwick, of all men.
And yet, she was powerless to stop the desire that crashed over her as she shamelessly clambered closer to him. She had never wanted anything more than she wanted him.
He tore his mouth from hers and kissed a path of fire down her jaw to her ear. Pressing his lips to the sensitive shell, he whispered, “Do you believe I want to court you now?”
She shivered, tilting her head to allow him greater access to a part of her she had not previously supposed would be as desperate for Warwick’s mouth as it was now. He obliged her, nuzzling her earlobe before running his tongue over the hollow directly behind it.
A moan escaped her before she could stifle it. Movement in the corner of her eye had her gaze flying to Jane, who had begun to stir. “Oh dear heavens,” she hissed. “Warwick. Jane is waking. You must return to your seat.”
“Damn,” he cursed, pressing one more kiss to her neck before he hastily disengaged, stood, and stalked back to the chair upon which he had begun his call. Less than discreetly, he adjusted his breeches before seating himself once more.
Jane cleared her throat and shifted in her chair, adjusting her cap as she blinked sleep from her eyes. She did not appear to have witnessed a thing, thank heavens. Lydia took a deep, calming breath, hoping she didn’t appear as thoroughly kissed and discombobulated as she felt.
“You did not answer,” Warwick pressed, drawing her attention back to him once more. To his mouth, which had owned hers in a way she had not been able to imagine possible. “Do you believe me now, Lady Lydia?”
She swallowed, willing her heart to slow its frantic pace, and then surprised even herself when she said, “Perhaps I require further convincing, Warwick.”
He grinned, and she felt that seductive smirk all the way to her toes. “Challenge gladly accepted.”
