“You will leave me alone? Cease stalking me?”
His eyes widened. “Stalking? Is that what I’m doing? But yes, if that is your wish I will leave you alone after a proper kiss, a lover’s kiss.”
Portia sensed that this was another wager. He was betting that after a kiss she wouldn’t want to be left alone, but would continue into his bed. She was betting that she could resist. It seemed horribly like their wager the night before, one she had lost resoundingly.
But this was different. There was no nakedness, and it was just a kiss.
She swallowed nervously. “I know little of lovers’ kisses, my lord. You must excuse me if my effort is feeble.”
“If your effort is feeble, I will tutor you until you get it right.”
Portia’s heart began to pound, and she licked suddenly dry lips. “This is not fair,” she whispered.
“Yes it is. Just apply your lips to mine, dear gamester, and follow your instincts….”
She leaned forward tentatively, but he leaned away, sliding sideways until he was against the arm of the chaise and she was along him rather than in his lap. “My lord!”
“Much more comfortable. You are on top. You are in control. I am not even holding you. Just your lips to mine, Portia, but remember we are lovers….”
He made it not a fantasy, but a statement of fact. Her body hummed with agreement, already remembering another time and another place.
“Oh dear.”
He smiled into her eyes. “Can you say with truth that you do not want to kiss me, fair one?”
Portia not only wanted to kiss him, she wanted to do—in a small way—what he had done to her. She remembered Nerissa’s revenge. Could she kiss Bryght and summon his desire, then send him on his way forbidden to seek her out in future?
“A kiss and you will leave me alone?” she asked again.
“If you still want to be left alone.”
So Portia leaned forward, but found she could not balance without resting her arms on his shoulders. His coat was velvet and beautifully soft against her palms.
She eased down closer and his smell reached her—a touch of perfume, and another smell, his smell….
When their lips touched, his moved in greeting but they made no assault. She pressed a little closer and he parted his lips so a moist, intimate heat tickled her. She moved back then, but his hands came around to hold her there.
“You aren’t finished yet, I hope.”
“I don’t know what to do. Truly I don’t.”
“Try this.” He tilted his head slightly so their lips fit together better. His hand slid into her hair and played gently on her scalp. “Your own hair is so much more beautiful,” he whispered. “So silky, so alive…”
Her scalp was a place he hadn’t been able to explore the night before, and now his touch there was so sweet she gasped.
“That’s right,” he murmured against her open lips. “A lovers’ kiss is intimate, Portia, a lowering of all barriers, a tasting of the heart. We have never had a true lovers’ kiss. Relax now and kiss me….”
One hand roamed her back and she could hardly help but relax, but she didn’t know what he meant about a tasting of the heart until she tasted him.
Last night he had tasted of that perfumed oil. It had been erotic, but not sweet. Now the flavor was all his own, and delicious. Her body recognized it and moved as it had learned to move, pressing closer despite hoops and stays, stirring a muted, sensuous rustle of silk.
She was vaguely aware of him continuing to touch her—her scalp, her nape, her spine. Drawing her close against him…
“You said no hands,” she protested.
He immediately stopped.
That was better. He was affected, she knew it, and she had always been told that men’s passions were stronger and wilder than women’s. Just a little longer, then, and he would be desperate for her.
