Holding her hair back, he lowered his mouth to that tender spot behind her ear.
“No games.” Her voice trembled.
Carried Away
I don’t want to play games either.
The trouble was, with his mouth on her skin like this, she couldn’t get the words out.
And yet, if she wasn’t playing games, then what was she doing? A voice that sounded suspiciously like Chloe’s echoed in her head.
Or was that her conscience?
He was injured, but he was not even close to being at death’s door.
Had she, in fact, come to his chamber in search of absolution? Not from her deception but from what had happened to Lockley? Without knowing the details, he’d assured her it could not have been all her fault.
Words she’d heard before.
Why did they mean more coming from him? For a moment, she’d nearly confessed everything.
She hated this. She hated everything about this!
And yet, like chocolate left out in the sunshine, Priscilla melted as his mouth trailed around to her jaw.
There was just something about him—a unique quality that made her forget who he was and, more problematic, who she was supposed to be.
He was handsome, yes, but he also had an almost endearing ability to see into her soul and then speak the words she needed to hear.
He had even come close to convincing her she wasn’t wholly at fault for Lockley’s death—closer than Victoria had, or her sister-in-law, or even her brother.
Was it possible that she could ever set aside some of that guilt?
He could almost make her believe that it was.
She shoved the memory of Lockley and that day out of her mind and twisted into his arms.
For a second.
Only a few seconds.
As he caught her mouth, the last of Priscilla’s inhibitions dropped away. The last time a man kissed her, she’d felt nothing like this.
Lord Hardwood’s kiss—Emerson’s kiss—bettered her memories a thousand times over.
He growled as his tongue rolled around hers, the vibrations sending singing heat to her core. And those butterflies in her belly fluttered happily.
She wound her arms around his neck, and at the same time, he pulled her closer. He tasted…
Exciting and exotic but also… like home.
Dragging in a breath, he broke away from her mouth to trail down her neck, across her shoulders. “A kiss worth waiting for.”
“Worth jumping into an icy lake?” She shivered at the memory.
His mouth hovered over hers. “Yes.”
“You were sopping wet.” She trailed her fingertips along his shoulders. “My hero.”
