Instead of answering he walked across the room. His footsteps seemed to echo the thump of her pulse. Joan retreated a step only to find herself backed against the wall. She raised her eyes to his, and saw no trace of mockery or deviltry or amusement. He loomed over her, every fiber of his being obviously intent upon her—and her own body was no less attuned to his.
“Are you going to kiss me again?” she asked, unconsciously tilting forward, raising her face to his.
“Would you let me?” He touched the tip of her chin, then slowly ran his finger along her jaw until his hand curved around the back of her neck.
She wet her lips. Breathing seemed to grow more difficult. “You know I would.”
“Would you welcome it?” His voice dropped into a sensual murmur. His fingers pressed ever so lightly on the back of her neck, drawing her to him.
Joan placed one palm, then the other, against his chest. He was so warm and solid. She could feel the steady beat of his heart, almost as quick as her own. “Yes.”
His head dipped, his lips brushing hers. “Why?”
She let her eyes fall closed, tipping her head back even more. “Because I want you to.”
Another kiss, this one lingering only a little longer than the first elusive contact. “Why?”
Her fingers closed around the lapels of his jacket. “Why do you want to kiss me?” She stretched up on her toes, trying to close the distance between them.
He cupped his other hand around her jaw, brushing his lips over her eyelids. Then that hand stroked down her nape, over her shoulder, and down her spine before closing firmly over her bottom. With surprising strength he pulled her hips against his. Joan’s eyes flew wide open as she felt him, full and hard, against her. Thanks to50 Ways to Sin, there was no doubt what part of him was pressed so insistently against her lower belly.
“Because I want you, Joan Bennet,” his voice rasped in her ear. His breath was hot on her cheek. “Desperately.” As if to drive home the point, he moved, pressing her flat against the wall, and tilted his hips, causing that hard ridge to slide roughly over her woman’s mound.
A strange shiver rippled through her, making her limbs tremble and her stomach knot. “Oh my,” she said faintly.
“I want to kiss you until you forget your own name,” he went on in a ruthless whisper. “I want to touch you until you cry out in bliss. I want to see you flush that gorgeous shade of rose from head to toe while I bring you to climax after climax. I want to do things to you that would make you blush just to hear them.” He flexed his hips again, even more slowly this time. “I want you to know that you’ve bewitched me, and I’m going mad from wanting to see you—to talk to you—even to argue with you.”
“I’m not arguing now,” she said, her voice high and breathless.
“Good,” he breathed, and then his mouth was on hers, dark and hot and insistent. His lips pulled at hers, teasing and nipping. Joan clung to his jacket, wanting to feel him wrapped around her. When he lifted his head, she swayed, sucking in a deep breath to stop her head from spinning.
“Oh my,” she managed to gasp. “You’ve won your shilling ...”
“Damn the bloody shilling,” he growled. “Open your mouth when I kiss you.”
“Why?” she asked, and he took advantage. His mouth met hers again, his tongue flicking between her lips. Joan started and his fingers tightened, just a fraction, on her nape, his thumb stroking the line of her jaw, tipping her head to a better angle for his possession. His tongue swept into her mouth and she moaned helplessly. Now she clung to him to keep her feet; his right hand, still cupped around her bottom, began urging her against him in a slow, primal rhythm. Her spine softened, and her hips tilted into his when he tugged. Tristan growled again, his tongue surging deeper into her mouth. Joan’s hands crept up his chest until they were around his neck. She felt him tense, as if he meant to pull away, and she held on tighter with an inarticulate mew, sucking lightly on his tongue before he could break the kiss.
He shuddered hard in her arms. His grip grew stronger, lifting her onto her toes. Her blood seemed to be roaring through her veins like a stream in spring flood. It was terrifying and recklessly exhilarating, and she never wanted it to end.
Abruptly Tristan froze. Joan squirmed against him, and he pulled his lips away from hers, making a silent “shh,” gesture when she blinked dazedly at him.
“Joan?” called Evangeline. “Lord Burke?” There was an edge of command to her voice. Her footsteps echoed in the other room, coming nearer. “Where have you gone?”
Joan swallowed. They were screened by the door, but only for a moment longer. Soundlessly Tristan let her back down on her own feet, holding her a second as she swayed before taking a quiet step backward. “In here,” she said, then cleared her throat to rid it of whatever made it so husky. “In here, Evangeline.”
Her aunt swung the door open as she repeated it. Tristan had managed to move another step back, and he made a little bow. He had also smoothed his jacket back into place, so the only sign of their moment of frantic passion was the heightened color in his cheeks and a certain glitter in his eyes. “I was showing Miss Bennet my bathing room,” he said. “It is my primary point of pride in the house.”
Evangeline’s sharp eyes darted between the two of them. Joan tried to look innocent, hoping desperately that her hair wasn’t in a betraying mess. “It was very quiet. I didn’t know where to find you.”
“I was marveling at the linen cupboard,” she said quickly. Fortunately Tristan had left the cupboard door open, and she gestured at it. “It’s warmed by the chimney. Can you imagine, always having warm toweling on a cold day? Does that not sound like the most delicious luxury?”
“Indeed.” Her aunt’s gaze lingered on her. “Very impressive, Lord Burke.”
He bowed his head. “Thank you, ma’am. Do you approve of the color scheme?”
“Most cheerful.” Finally Evangeline turned away, and Joan fought off the urge to collapse against the wall in relief. “What do you think of it, Joan?”
“I think it’s splendid,” she said in perfect honesty. “A whole room for bathing! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a finer house.”
