Lowering herself onto his warm back, the intimacy of riding atop a gentleman returned to bite her. No wonder Emily had been blushing!
Trying to act as though nothing was amiss, Rhoda placed one hand on his shoulder and scooted her bottom onto the arch of his back. He felt warm and solid beneath her.
Now, without talking, she was supposed to guide him toward Lord Blakely. But how to guide him?
Twisting sideways, she grasped both of his shoulders and pressed down on the side she wished him to go.
Rocking slowly as he moved, he turned them in the opposite direction. “No!” she said aloud.
“You’re not supposed to talk,” Emily chided.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Drat this man. Rhoda pushed and then tugged harder.
Lord Carlisle continued in the wrong direction. Oh, well, she’d simply allow him to make the full circle and then she’d get to her destination anyhow.
Except before he reached Blakely, he stopped at an empty chair.
His!
She smacked the top of his head. Why was he being so difficult?
She went to smack him again, but her hand didn’t quite obey her brain. Instead, it remained on his head, enjoying the feel of his hair.
Mesmerized by her own audacity, she watched her fingers thread downward toward his neck. Heat crawled through her arms and into her legs. She clenched her thighs in reflex to the liquid warmth that pooled between them.
What would it feel like to sit on him in a very different way? To touch his skin, instead of the fabric of his clothing. He seemed stronger than St. John had been. Would his skin feel smooth to the touch? Would the hair on his legs be brittle or soft? Her fingers trailed around his neck to his jaw. The day’s growth of beard scratched against her fingertips.
And then one hand grasped her wrist tightly.
What was he doing?
She tugged, in order to escape, but he refused to budge. In fact, he was slowly pulling her down.
As he did so, her face hovered just behind his neck.
A spice, bergamot? The clean scent of soap tickled her senses as she inhaled, inches from his hair.
He turned his head so that she could see the outline of his face. And then he released her hand and tapped his cheek.
He wanted her to kiss him.
He was only playing the game! And all he asked for was a kiss on the cheek. Not on the lips. Was he doing this to keep her out of trouble? Was this his way of trying to protect her from her wanton ways?
Red clouded her vision. His attempt to manipulate her was misguided indeed!
How dare he!
Allowing the frustration of the day to vent itself, Rhoda did not think about what she was doing. She relaxed her head, opened her mouth, and placed it on the side of his neck. She’d show him! He thought he was protecting her! He wanted to control her!
With the taste of his skin on her lips, however, she forgot quite what she’d intended. Sensing his racing pulse, Rhoda nipped at, and then swirled her tongue along the taut skin.
He gripped her hand again.
Locating his earlobe, Rhoda bit down, ever so gently.
“This is becoming rather boring,” the lieutenant complained from across the room. “Is anything happening?”
Rhoda lurched from atop Carlisle’s back and made a mad dash for her chair.
