“I’m going to kiss you now, Lisbeth,” he announced, and it was a dark and dangerous sound. It thrilled and scared her.
So like Bellamy to tell her of his intentions, not like a request but a warning. A warning, which had her whole body quivering in anticipation of his touch. He kissed the hollow behind her ear and gooseflesh covered her body, like her skin had been woken after years of being asleep. She gasped at the feel of his lips on her neck, warm and soft. When his tongue flicked out to wet a small patch of skin before putting his hot open mouth there, she trembled. Her fingers dug into his jacket.
Her eyes closed as he kissed her chin, the corner of her mouth.My lips. Kiss my lips,she silently pleaded. It seemed an age but finally his mouth did come down on hers. She tasted the wine he had consumed earlier and wondered if he could taste the champagne she’d had. Soon all such ridiculous thought of who drank what was far, far away. His soft and unhurried way of kissing gave her time to relax. Tentatively she kissed him back, letting him deepen the kiss as he pleased because it pleased her too. She heard him groan low in his throat and would have smiled but that her mouth was otherwise delightfully occupied.
She was enjoying the dizzying feeling he created with his lips. She had always thought he had a clever mouth on him; how right she was, but for much better reasons than she had originally thought. The smell of his shaving cologne and the starch fromhis cravat filled her nostrils, only to be outdone by the heated scent of the man himself. Lisbeth breathed it in, reveled in it, and wanted to inhale it like an opium smoker breathed in the bittersweet poison of the poppy.
Bellamy’s lips left hers to make their way down her neck again and lower to the tops of her breasts. He kissed from one side to the other while one hand smoothed down the side of her ribcage to rest on her bottom, pulling her hard up against him. The other hand pulled down her bodice and was palming her breast with a tender but sure hand. She couldn’t breathe, or was it she was breathing too much? Whichever way, she felt delirious.
“Lisbeth,” he rasped in her ear.
Oh God! His voice was low, dark, and heavy.Keep talking, she thought to herself.No, stop talking and kiss me.
“I want you, Lisbeth. I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you. You are so soft, so lovely. You’re perfect.”
Perfect? Her? She’d been called many things, unsavory things, but never perfect, never lovely. He kissed her then with a determination which gave her no chance to resist him, even if she’d wanted to.
Oh, Lord, his whole body was pressed against her, and it felt so unexpectedly good, but he was still not close enough. She wanted more. She was a greedy child in a sweet shop. One hand gripped his jacket while the other tangled in his hair, and he whispered her name again before taking advantage of her open mouth. His tongue plundered as his body rocked against her. She gloried in the press of his erection against her. Consciousness was giving way to a sweetest oblivion. She didn’t want to think, just for a moment or two.
“I knew it.” He growled in her ear, and she turned towards him.
“Don’t talk, please don’t talk,” she said and put her lips to his. He took her invitation without hesitation. Deepened the kiss further.
She vaguely felt his hand on her leg, gathering her skirts higher, lifting her leg to his waist, fitting himself between. Tension was simmering low in her belly and moving lower.
Yes! Yes!
No! Why had he stopped kissing her? Was it possible for lips to feel bereft?
Now his lips were at her breasts which were now exposed and swollen and wanting. She liked his mouth hot on her.
His hand was between her legs, touching her softly, confidently. It was the sweetest kind of torture. She had not experienced a man’s fingers there before, even on her wedding night. Was this how it should have been? It was shockingly delicious.
As much as he was slowly, exquisitely, driving her mad, she held no illusions as to what this was. This lustful seduction had been his intention all along.He probably seduced women every other day like this.
Part of her didn’t care any longer. She just wanted more. Part of her cried at the injustice of the reality of what this really was and where they were. In an armoire of all places! The knowledge she had let this happen was painful. What was she doing? More importantly, what was she doing with Bellamy? She had decided she would not give in to him and become just another woman who had warmed his bed, hadn’t she? It was too dangerous; he was too dangerous—to her heart. For why dabble in something that could not ever be?
She pulled her hand away from his crotch sharply, causing her elbow to bang loudly against the side of the armoire. The pain was sharp and intense. It was hard to believe her hand had been there at all. She could not remember putting it there, butit would be a long time before she forgot the feel of him hard beneath her palm. Lisbeth bit back the dull ache that throbbed up her whole arm.
“Lisbeth? Are you all right?” His voice was a combination of concern and frustration.
He had asked her earlier would it be so terrible, them together. He had no idea how very bad a thing it could be. There were things about her he should never know. Shameful, ugly things. All of a sudden the armoire felt stifling. The sides seemed to shrink, closing in all around her. She had to get out, away from him. For both their sakes.
Lisbeth frantically began moving jackets out of her way. “I… I can’t do this.”
She burst out of the armoire with a gasp and landed harshly against the desk.
“Lisbeth!” She heard him call after her again, but she ignored him, pulling her bodice back into place with desperate shaky fingers. Seeking her reflection in Selbourne’s shaving mirror was a mistake. The woman who looked at her was horrifyingly tousled. Dark hair sticking out at all angles and lips wantonly plump. She looked like a Covent Garden doxy. What had she done? Shame washed over her and left her gasping and angry.
Oliver stepped out of the armoire slowly, tucking in his shirt and pulling on his jacket sleeves, adjusting his neck cloth. “I take it you came to your senses?”
“How could you do that to me?” she blasted at him, humiliation washing over her and making her feel ill.
His brows rose to his hairline. “A lesser man would be demanding you finish what you started. Perhaps you should be asking yourself the question, how could I do that to him?”
She spun to face him. “Oh, how typical! How like a man!”
“How typical of a woman to say no to her own desire. Let me remind you it was you who suggested we enter the armoire in thefirst place.” He gave her a sad little smile which only made her angrier with him because she wanted to say yes to her desire for him more than anything.
