She’d never imagined the taste of another human’s mouth. Spicy, warm — and his tongue felt rough as he danced with her own.
When the lion cart began toppling toward her, she had braced herself for crushing pain, an onslaught of sorrow for her untimely demise, and then, blessed, peaceful death. Amidst all these thoughts, she’d hoped she could somehow protect Peaches with her own body.
But the impact had not come.
The cart would have landed on them, but the façades of the two buildings beside her had halted its descent at the last moment. She’d huddled, amazingly alive, only to realize she still faced danger... danger that involved swiping claws and razor-sharp teeth.
She almost might have crawled out beneath the precariously perched vehicle, for she could see daylight peeking through, but if she were to make one wrong move, yikes! She’d decided not to attempt it.
All of this had left Sophia and Peaches in close confines with an injured lion. And although the situation was harrowing, indeed, her foremost fear was for Peaches. Most certainly, her tiny dog would provide a fine delicacy for a lion.
She’d been doing her best to prevent another fit of barking when the captain had appeared, hovering above her.
He’d materialized most heroically, a dark silhouette against the bright sky.
Such a sense of authority and power exuded from his person, that the panic of her situation dissolved unashamedly… into shivers of admiration.
And he had been so kind!
Whereas certain men might chastise her, this one expressed only concern and sympathy.
He’d not patronized her.
Nor had he berated her for this calamity; in fact, he’d scoffed at the very notion of Sophia being at fault!
How could onenotfind such a figure heroic?
He smelled divine. And he tasted… Oh, my!
She had never been so conscious of a man, of a person for that matter, in her entire life. Not even Lord Harold.
Her fiancé had certainly never held her like this — as though he would die if he could not touch her, kiss her, taste her. This captain didn’t even seem to mind Peaches snuggled between the two of them.
What would Harold think if he knew? Surely, Harold would feel betrayed.
With good reason, she admonished herself as the captain gently nipped at her lower lip.
For such utter lack of resistance on her part was an unqualified betrayal of her sweet, quiet, unassuming fiancé.
She could make all the excuses in the world that the shock of nearly being crushed to death had muddled her judgment, but the reality was that she had willingly allowed another man to kiss her — a man who was not her fiancé.
And go right on kissing her.
In fact, he now seemed quite fascinated with her cheek, and the sensitive skin by her ear.
Why ever would she want to end this?
Did a person take one breath of air and then stop breathing?
Did a man lost in the desert, drink one swallow of water and then toss the canteen aside? Or perhaps more aptly, could a girl take a single lick of her ice from Gunter’s only to allow the rest to melt?
Good heavens, no!
For in her twenty years of life, by no means had she ever experienced such delightful, and yet unnerving sensations.
How could she tell him to stop before he was finished?
She could not.
