Would he have played by her rules? Ah, hell. Most likely. Yes.
Her hand teased its way inside the collar of his shirt, and the flame he’d thought was under control leapt and jumped, raging into more of an inferno.
Enough with all his thinking. It was overrated.
“Amelia.” He barely recognized his own voice. Notmy lady. Just… “Amelia.”
She gave a little gasp, and Leopold tightened his arms around her, his moves more desperate than deliberate. Hell, his hands practically shook as he smoothed them over her arms.
His chest tightened, because he was finally kissing her.
Finally tasting this woman.
And she was sweeter than he imagined. Hotter. Sexier.
When he thrust his tongue past her lips, she let out a little groan.
So damned sexy.
Her teeth were slick, and as he searched the tender flesh inside her mouth, the silky texture unleashed wild urges for more intimate kisses.
Keeping one arm clamped around her waist, he explored her unrestrained curves. He couldn’t help but recall the moments after he’d cut those damned laces. Even then, bastard that he was, he’d been aroused as hell.
And although he’d realized she wasn’t the spoiled debutante he’d believed her to be, he’d never even imagined the danger she posed.
To his organized life. To his missions.
To his sanity.
He palmed her breast and of course, it fit his hand perfectly. Her nipple was already hard. She’d been waiting for his touch. Longing for it as much as he had.
He abandoned her mouth for the delicate curve of her jaw, and then tasted his way around and down the length of her neck.
She twisted, facing him. They both all but tore at her skirts so she could straddle his lap. And although it felt clumsy, it felt right. Two people from different worlds, wanting the same thing.
Her fingers tugged at the roots of his hair, and he loved it.
“Mr. Beckworth…” Her voice trembled.
“That’s right.” He didn’t want her to hold back. He never wanted her to think she had to hold anything back from him.
Like a blind man, he memorized each dip and swell. Dragging his mouth across the slender ridge of her breastbone, he watched the pulse flutter in her neck. It matched the pounding of her heart.
He thrust up with his hips as though asking a question. She answered with a little wiggle.
There were too many clothes between them, but when he trailed a hand under her skirt, her fingers loosened in his hair.
“Mr. Beckworth?” There was a question in her voice. And although he still cradled her breast in his hand, he’d checked himself.
He wanted to correct her, to insist she use his name, and yet, there was something incredibly sexy in how she said it…Mr. Beckworth.
She wasn’t squirming anymore, so Leopold lifted his head.
Her neck and cheeks were flushed deep pink and her mouth was parted. She stared at him with startled eyes. Something swirled in the depths of those sapphire orbs, but this time, he couldn’t quite read them. Frustrated as hell, he dropped his forehead to rest on her shoulder.
Was she afraid?
Or had she simply come to her senses?
