You come to me.
“Rule number one?” she whispered, her confidence wavering. Following this rule felt strange, definitely foreign. In society, ladies flirted with potential husbands. Men wooed potential wives.
But this wasn’t a courtship. It was a kiss.
She had been kissed in the past. She had even invited a few. Before she’d attended her first ball, she’d known kissing was one of the steps of the marriage mart dance. One of the later ones, one of the more final ones, but it was only a step.
She’d been innocent, but she’d also been curious. In the end, however, none of those kisses had satisfied her. They had, in fact, left her feeling dreadfully disappointed.
Hopeless.
But for all that flirting and dancing, Amelia had never once initiated a kiss. She had never wanted to.
Until now.
“Amelia?” If she didn’t act now, she might lose her chance forever.
The spools kept spinning, and this time, after a hard swallow, Amelia succumbed to the tension.
Leaning forward, she kept her eyes open as her mouth landed on his. But kissing him and staring at him at the same time was quite beyond her capabilities.
She could see him in her mind instead.
A kiss wasn’t something to watch, but to feel. And, with his mouth against hers, Amelia wanted to feel everything.
His lips were firm, inviting, and that spicy aroma was even more exciting this close.
She instinctively tilted her head, touching her fingertips to the side of his face.
Marveling at the bristly texture, she dragged them along his jaw, and then higher, diving into his hair. The strands slid through her fingers like silk.
Just like the man himself—a combination of textures.
Amelia parted her lips. She wanted more of that spice. She wanted to taste it. She wanted to taste him.
Everywhere.
And then Mr. Beckworth took over.
He would never underestimatethis woman again.
When he’d told her the first rule, he’d half-expected her to express outrage and then order him out. When he’d told her the second, he’d expected her courage to falter.
Amelia Crowley had not been deterred by either.
And now, her delightful little bottom all but cradled his cock, her hands were pulling on his hair so hard it stung, and her curious tongue drew lines along the seam of his mouth.
What she lacked in skill, she more than made up for in enthusiasm.
He may have stolen her from her father, but tonight, she had come to him.
She wanted him.
And Leopold, generous man that he was, would give this woman anything she wanted.
Gathering her closer, he wondered. What if she hadn’t been willing to follow his rules? What if she’d needed him to do more coaxing?
What if she’d wantedbloody wooing?
