He deepened the kiss, ignoring her gasp of surprise as he parted her lips with his tongue. But even that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to feel her, her warmth, her vitality, up and down the length of him, around him, through him, infusing him.
He slid his hands around her, settling one against her upper back, even as another daringly found the lush curve of her bottom. He pressed her against him, hard, not caring that she would feel the evidence of his desire. It had been so long. So damned long, and she was so soft and sweet in his arms.
He wanted her.
He wanted all of her, but even his passion-hazed mind knew that that was impossible this evening, and so he was determined to have the next best thing, which was just the feel of her, the sensation of her in his arms, the heat of her running along the entire length of his body.
And she was responding. Hesitantly, at first, as if she wasn’t quite sure what she was doing, but then with greater ardor, making innocently seductive little sounds from the back of her throat.
It drove him wild.Shedrove him wild.
“Eloise, Eloise,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and raspy with need. He sank one hand into her hair, tugging at it until her coiffure loosened and one thick chestnut lock slid out to form a seductive curlicue on her breastbone. His lips moved to her neck, tasting her skin, exulting when she arched back and offered him greater access. And then, just when he’d started to sink down, his knees bending as his lips trailed over her collarbone, she wrenched herself away.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, her hands flying up to the neckline of her dress even though it wasn’t the least bit out of place.
“I’m not,” he said baldly.
Her eyes widened at his bluntness. He didn’t care. He’d never been particularly fancy with words, and it was probably best that she learned that now, before they did anything permanent.
And then she surprised him.
“It was a figure of speech,” she said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said I was sorry. I wasn’t, really. It was a figure of speech.”
She sounded remarkably composed and almost schoolteacherish, for a woman who had just been so soundly kissed.
“People say things like that all the time,” she continued, “just to fill the silence.”
Phillip was coming to realize that she wasn’t the sort of woman who liked silence.
“It’s rather like when one—”
He kissed her again.
“Sir Phillip!”
“Sometimes,” he said with a satisfied smile, “silence is a good thing.”
Her mouth fell open. “Are you saying I talk too much?”
He shrugged, having too much fun teasing her to do anything else.
“I’ll have you know that I have beenmuchquieter here than I am at home.”
“That’s difficult to imagine.”
“Sir Phillip!”
“Shhh,” he said, reaching out and taking her hand, then taking it again, more firmly this time, when she snatched it away. “We need a bit of noise around here.”
Eloise woke the following morning as if she were still wrapped in a dream. She hadn’t expected him to kiss her.
And she hadn’t expected to like it quite so much.
Her stomach let out an angry growl, and she decided to make her way down to the breakfast room. She had no idea if Sir Phillip would be there. Was he an early riser? Or did he like to remain abed until noon? It seemed silly that she didn’t know these things about him when she was seriously contemplating marriage.
