“Perhaps you need help in more than just garnering attention,” he whispered. “Fear is a killer, Emma. It will destroy what you want faster than any other thing. I don’t want you to be afraid of me. Of the unknown. Of…this…”
He braced up, and his lips brushed hers for the second time in just a few hours. It was less surprising to her now. She found her arms folding around his neck and her mouth opening to him. He leaned in, and she met him halfway, tangling her tongue with his as he pressed her back in the chair and kissed her like he was a starving man and she was all the food in the world.
“You’re a natural,” he groaned against her mouth. “Made for pleasure.”
She didn’t really understand what he meant, but she shivered at his words nonetheless. Pleasure—oh, there was so much of that. She ached for more in the most outrageous places. Like in her hard nipples, low in her stomach, between her legs.
He drew back and met her stare. His was wide and a bit wild. Like he was battling a beast within himself. One that wanted something she didn’t truly understand, but she found herself leaning toward him. Toward it.
She caught the back of his neck and drew him to her, brushing her lips to his. He made a harsh sound in his throat and then he devoured her, pinning her to the chair as he crushed her hard against him and spiraled her into surrender once more.
Chapter Nine
James pressed hard against Emma’s softness, her quiet mewls of pleasure stoking a fire in him that he hadn’t felt in…well, a very long time. He was no monk—he took his pleasure and had had mistresses over the years. None had ever inspired such lust as that which burned in him now. And he had no idea why.
Was it because Emma was so innocent? Because she was so different from the women he normally pursued? He had no idea, but he burned to touch her, to brand her, to take her.
But there could be none of that. Fake courtships and stolen kisses were one thing. Once he breached her, there would be no going back. Of course, that didn’t mean they couldn’t find pleasure.
He leaned back and looked into her face. Her eyes were shut, her lips shiny and full, her breath short as she panted beneath him. Oh, how he wanted to make her shatter. To wake her to a world he doubted she’d ever imagined.
“I want to touch you, Emma,” he whispered.
Her eyes flew open, and the blue-green was so soft and beautiful as she stared up at him through the dark. “Touch me? Aren’t you already touching me?”
He held back a groan. God damn but that sweetness, that innocence, was like catnip to him. His need to make her come multiplied.
“Not like I want to be,” he said, his voice harsh in the quiet. “I want to touch you…here.”
As he said the words he dragged his hand down her body and pressed between her legs, gathering the fabric of her gown there. She hissed out a sound of surprise and lifted her hips against him.
“I don’t…I haven’t…I want…”
“What do you want?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t know.” Her gaze snagged his, wide and wild. “I don’t know, James. I just feel…full. Like I’m going to burst.”
“I can make it better,” he assured her as he caught the edge of her skirt and pushed it up. He held her gaze as he did it, watching her. He would stop if he had to. If she wanted him to. No matter how impossible that seemed.
But she didn’t ask. She just stared at his ever-rising hand lifting her skirt inch by inch. He slipped his fingers beneath the hem when he got it to her knees and touched her bare legs.
“James!” she cried out, her hands coming to cover his through her skirt.
“I can make it better,” he repeated as he leaned in and kissed her again.
She sank back, her hands drawing him close, her tongue tangling with his. He slid his hand up over her knee, to her naked thighs, and finally he found her drawers. They were silky and soft, but he wanted something better to touch. Something sweeter.
He found the narrow slit in the fabric and parted it, pushing his hand in to where she was exquisitely hot and already wet. He could feel that wetness on her thighs.
He pulled away from the kiss and stared down at her as he smoothed his fingers across her entrance. She shivered at the touch and stared up at him with wild eyes.
“This won’t ruin you,” he promised, though in his heart that was exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to spread her legs wide and slide inside of her, he wanted to claim her until she trembled beneath him, until he found his fill of her.
But that wasn’t right. Neither was what he was doing at present, but at least it wouldn’t destroy her.
He pressed her outer folds open, his fingers slipping along her slick entrance. She moaned out a soft sound of pleasure as her hips jolted up against him and forced his fingers across her once again.
“What is this?” she whispered, her cheeks flaming.
