Hewas her first kiss.
And, strangely, it felt right to kiss this woman he’d never once considered kissing in all the time he’d known her.
As if some part of him had been biding its time for this verymoment.
His fingers found themselves trailing down the indent of her lower back to the curve of her sweet, round bottom. Her hands contained a certainty of their own as they roamed across his chest and around to his back, and lower to give his arse a responding squeeze.
“Like for like,” she muttered against his mouth, a sly smile pulling about her lips.
Oh, that smile sent his mind to places his body wanted to go. Places that wanted—demanded—satisfaction. Satisfaction he couldn’t give. For his instinct was to seize control, as was his wont when he was alone with a willing woman.
But this woman in his arms was no bit of crumpet for whom he would provide an afternoon’s pleasure.
She was a lady.
A lady who happened to be a cousin of his closest friend and who, in truth, was more like a sister of the Windermere brood.
Right.
His mouth broke from hers, intent on doing the noble thing.
Which was to stop kissing her.
Still, she remained within the circle of his arms, mouth parted, panting, cheeks flushed, eyebrows drawn together in question. “Was it terrible?” she asked.
Oh, he was but a mere, weak, mortal man, and he couldn’t have Miss Windermere distressed or thinking she was terrible at anything.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he claimed her mouth again, this time with a sense of desperation. With a responding desperation, she pressed all her weight into him, so he was left with no option but to follow her lead until his back hit solid oak.
Miss Windermere seemed to know what she wanted.
And it seemed to be him.
His half-full cock went suddenly as hard as the oak at his back.
Her hands trailed lower, guided by a frenzied curiosity,and anticipation filled him to bursting. He knew what those inquisitive fingers would find.
Him.
Tentatively, they grazed along the rigid length of his shaft, pulling a long groan from him. Serious green eyes met his. “Again,” he rasped. He would beg if he had to.
She held his gaze and stroked him again, applying more pressure this time. As the flame of need licked at him, he understood there were only two directions this could go.
He could swivel them around so it was her back against the tree, bunch up her skirts, wrap a leg around his waist, and release his cock. He could tup her silly right here. It was the satisfaction his body demanded.
Or…
There was another option.
He could stop.
Right.
It was the only option.
He pulled back, tearing his mouth from hers, and took her waist in his hands, gently setting her a foot away from him. They stood apart, panting, staring at each other, trying to grasp what exactly had just happened. She opened her mouth to ask the question he could see poised on her lips. He held up a hand to stop it.
“You are not terrible at kissing,” he said.
