“Well, there is none in me, Emma,” he ground out, frustration in his tone at her insistence that he face himself. Face her. He clenched his teeth and fought her the only way he knew how. “Certainly, there is none right now. Right now I am standing in a private room with a beautiful woman and the last thing I am thinking of is my troubles. What I am thinking about is this.”
He dropped his mouth to hers and kissed her. A punishing kiss, a hard kiss, but she didn’t pull away from it. On the contrary, she opened to him right away, inviting him in, taking what he offered with only a soft sigh of acquiescence.
His fear and his sadness, his anger and his frustration, they melted into her, and he gentled his lips on hers as he tugged her even closer. Her arms came around his back and she moved her head so he could deepen the kiss. Lose himself in it and in her.
And he did. He forgot every other thing in the world except her taste, her feel. He drowned in her and he didn’t care if he ever came up for air again.
He pushed her backward, turning her until she leaned into the edge of his desk. He wanted to feel her against him, he wanted to touch her, he wanted to make her come like he had before. More than that, he wanted to bury his body deep in hers and shatter with her.
But that wasn’t possible.
He pulled away from the kiss and stared at her. Her gaze was bleary and unfocused, her lips red and full from his kisses, her breath coming short and raspy.
“I want to touch you again, Emma. I want to do more than just touch you, even though I will keep my vow not to claim you.”
She bit her lower lip gently. “Yes,” she whispered in answer to the question he hadn’t asked. “Please.”
The please nearly unraveled him right then and there, but he managed to gain some control over his lust. He smiled at her, lifting her more securely onto the edge of his desk. Then he began to slide her skirts up as he sank into a chair, and positioned himself as he parted her legs.
She stared down at him, eyes wide, body trembling. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
He glanced back up at her, wicked because wicked was the one thing he could control. “Tasting you, Emma. I’m going to taste you.”
Chapter Twelve
“Taste me?” Emma gasped, her hips arching of their own accord as James pressed each warm hand on one of her bare thighs and parted them a little wider.
“Oh yes,” he purred, opening her drawers so he was looking right at her sex.
Heat flooded her cheeks at his intense perusal. “I really don’t understand what you mean by—”
Before she could finish the statement, he leaned in and pressed his mouth to her, tracing his tongue along her folds.
Intense sensation mobbed her and she jolted against him, which only drove his tongue harder against her and made what he was doing all the more powerful. He held her steady and licked her again, this time spreading her folds open for better access.
She knew she should protest. That she should crush this wanton creature he awoke in her and tell him no. He would stop. She had no doubt he would.
But shedidn’tstop him. Instead, she collapsed back a little on his desk, opening herself wider to him as he stoked and stroked with his tongue. He found the little nub of nerves just at the top of her sex and circled it languidly, making her shudder as electric pleasure sizzled through her. But then he backed away and went back to making love to her body with his wicked, talented tongue.
She arched against him, unable to stop the tide of sensation that was washing through her, over her, threatening to drown her with its intensity. He looked up at her and their eyes met as he pleasured her.
“I would love nothing more than to do this for hours,” he panted between licks. “But I can’t. Not now. So…”
He trailed off and she let out a tiny cry as he focused his mouth on her clitoris. He sucked her, gently at first, then harder, and she clung to the desk edge with one hand while she covered her mouth with the other to hold in the cries of pleasure she could no longer control.
The sensations were building, higher, faster, stronger than the last time he’d touched her and then, almost without warning, the bubble of release burst. She jolted her hips against him as wave after wave of intense pleasure rocked through her. She was drowning, she was flying, she was lost and she was saved all at once, and he never relented as he licked her harder and harder and harder.
Finally, after what seemed like a blissful eternity, the tremors subsided and he lifted his head from between her thighs to smile at her. Heat burned her cheeks at the intimacy of what they had just done, but she returned the expression nonetheless.
He caught her hand and helped her sit up then get to her feet. She straightened her skirts, aware for the first time of the harsh, hard bulge in his trousers. She knew very little about sex, but her mother had told her the barest necessities. This was proof that he wanted her.
She glanced up at him and found him watching her. He shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll find satisfaction on my own later.”
She swallowed hard. He meant he would…touch it, she supposed. The very idea was intriguing, and her heart began to race, tingles flooding her and settling to the very place he’d been licking mere moments before.
Great God, but she was a wanton.
She turned away from him and continued to fix herself. He cleared his throat. “Now, wasn’t that a better use of our time than engaging in some pointless conversation?”
