She whimpered, but not from shock, and not in protest. Instead, she clutched him harder. She stepped into him, fitting their bodies together more fully. They were well-matched, her shorter, petite curves melting into him. There was raw need in her voice, in the way her tongue moved against his.
It became a battle for power, her thrusting her tongue into his mouth, and him retaliating in kind. They went on, kissing and kissing. One of his hands had found purchase on the nip of her waist and the other cupped the base of her skull, his fingers skewering the dark, silky strands of her simple chignon.
Hair pins were falling at last. Locks unraveled. He kissed her harder, tasting Jo and chocolate. Sweetness and mystery, that was what she tasted like. He sucked on her tongue, then bit her lower lip. He wanted to devour her the way she had eaten up her dessert earlier.
And then, a most unwanted intrusion: a barrage of louder-than-necessary raps on the door. Decker knew what the knocks meant and who was dealing the blows. Macfie. He had asked his man to provide him with a subtle reminder when the time had come to put an end to his clandestine evening with Lady Jo and return her to her home.
Of course the brute would pound on the bloody door loud enough to wake the dead.
Reluctantly, Decker tore his mouth from Jo’s. What a beautiful sight she was, all flushed, her lips dark and ripe as a cherry. He had conducted a ruinous assault upon her coiffure. She looked as if she had been properly ravished. A fresh bolt of lust pounded through him in time to Macfie’s second round of knocking.
Jo blinked, as if trying to collect herself.
He knew the feeling.
“Who is banging on the door?” she asked, breathless just as he had planned all along.
“Macfie,” he growled, every bit as affected as she was.
Decidedlynotpart of the plan, that. When the devil had a woman ever affected him the way Lady Jo Danvers did?
Never, that was when.
“Macfie?” she repeated, in question form.
“Giant redheaded Scotsman,” he reminded her. “You have met him on several occasions, I believe?”
“Yes. Of course.” She blinked again, before lifting a hand to inspect the damage he had inflicted upon her hair. “Oh dear. My hair pins.”
Macfie knocked again. “Sir? Have ye fallen asleep?”
Decker cleared his throat. “No, Macfie. See the carriage readied, if you please.”
“Aye, sir!” Macfie hollered from the other side of the door.
Decker winced. Yes, every part of the fellow was brash. But he was deuced loyal and intelligent, and Decker trusted him implicitly in all his business affairs. And now, his personal matters as well.
“Must we go already?” Jo asked, frowning.
He echoed the sentiment. It was as if they had only just begun, and now, he would have to leave her once more when leaving her was the last thing he wanted to do. He had not had the opportunity to show her the rest of the peculiarities—and pleasures—this chamber contained.
He would have to save it for another day, supposing they would have another. The notion struck him like a blow. He was unaccustomed to being with a woman who was not free to accompany him, a woman who could not spend the night with him.
This was different, perilous terrain between them indeed, and not just because of her unwed status as a lady. Also because of the way she made him feel. The things she did to him.
He inhaled slowly, trying to gain some semblance of control over his wildly rampaging thoughts. “Yes, I am afraid we must, if we wish to make certain your return is undetected. I dare not keep you here much longer, no matter how much I would like to.”
“Yes, you are right, of course. I cannot afford to be seen returning in such a state. Or at all, for that matter.”
She touched her lips then, and though he supposed the gesture was instinctive, he had to stifle a groan at the erotic picture she presented. He wanted to finish what he had begun, to take down the rest of her hair until it was wild down her back, cascading over her shoulders. He wanted to kiss her until their lips ached.
But Macfie’s timely rapping would not allow any of that, regardless of how much he yearned for it. Decker bent to retrieve the hair pins he had scattered from the carpet, making short work of them, before rising.
“Your hair pins, my dear.” He offered them to her.
She took them, her fingers grazing his palm as she gathered them up. “Thank you.”
Such a small touch, and yet he felt it as thoroughly as a caress on his cock. “I am a decent hand with a lady’s hair, if you would like me to attempt to restore the damage.”
