But he had left her with little choice. With a deep inhalation, she lowered her head and sealed her lips to his.
Her defiance.
Her mouth.
Fuck, the weight of her in his lap.
Those dark, flashing eyes, that cloud of mahogany hair.
Everything about her was driving him to the brink. Sin had never wanted a woman more than he wanted Lady Calliope Manning. Strike that—Calliope, Countess of Sinclair.
Hiswife.
How surreal it seemed. Today was a day of victory. The culmination of the battle he had waged with her. He had won. But she was not about to surrender. He knew that much. Strangely, he found the notion of her fighting him erotic as hell.
Mayhap that was why lust was crashing over him like waves on a storm-tossed sea. That, and her lips. They moved over his, soft and hard at once. He could almost taste her rebellion. He remained still, allowing her to kiss him, waiting for her to retreat.
But she did not.
Instead, she kissed him harder. Deeper. She was the one in control. The hands on his chest slid around his neck. She knew how to kiss, his new wife. And well. The thought had occurred to him before, at Helston Hall, but it returned to him now, along with a sharp stab of something akin to jealousy. Someone had taught her.
And that someone had not been Sin.
Perhaps she was not even a virgin.
The possibility had occurred to him before. There were all the rumors about her and the artist in Paris, to say nothing of her former betrothed. He would worry about that later, when he came to her chamber.
For now, he simply allowed her to kiss him, careful to keep his lips still. Careful not to respond. The fight to win her as his bride was over, but a greater war was about to begin. And Sin had every intention of winning this one as well.
Her tongue traced the seam of his lips, seeking entrance.
With a kittenish sound of frustration, she broke the kiss, staring down at him. “You are not kissing me back.”
“Make me,” he challenged her.
Her eyes widened. “What manner of game is this, my lord?”
“Sin,” he reminded her. “No game. If you want me to kiss you back, you will have to do better than the tepid effort you have put forth thus far.”
How he loved taunting her. In truth, there was nothing tepid about her perfect mouth on his. Nothing tepid abouther. She set him on fire.
The driver gave a discreet knock on the door.
“Not yet,” Sin called, keeping his gaze locked upon Calliope’s.
For a moment, she remained as she was, frozen in his lap, and he thought she would retreat. Suddenly, she caught his face in her gloved hands and slanted her lips over his. This kiss was as skilled as the others that had come before, but it was aggressive. Almost forceful. She bit his lower lip.
His cock twitched.
This time, she did not draw blood as she had done at Helston Hall when she bit him. Rather, she exercised sensual precision. He opened, and her tongue swept inside his mouth. His restraint fled, as did his ability to resist her.
Sin kissed her back with all the burgeoning need inside him, the need that had begun as a spark in this very carriage and had grown into a raging inferno. Her tongue glided against his. He sucked on it, drawing it deeper into his mouth.
His hands were in her hair, cupping the base of her skull. He was no longer keeping her imprisoned in his lap. Instead, he was angling her so he could devour her back with every bit as much ferocity. He poured all his fury and his pent-up desire into this meeting of mouths.
A groan tore from him when she writhed on his lap. Her bottom, separated from him by her underpinnings and gown, was still a delicious temptation against his raging cockstand. She kissed him harder, knocking his hat off his head and sinking her gloved fingers into his hair.
He wanted nothing more than to lift her skirts and ram his cock deep inside her.
