He showed her. With slow, gentle strokes, he told her with each lingering drag of his lips on hers exactly what he wanted from her.
She mimicked his movements tentatively at first, and then with growing confidence as the kiss intensified.
A shudder of sensation rippled through him. His chest buckled. It felt incredible. He had to fight the urge to sink in deeper, to bend her to him and take everything he wanted from her all at once.
He felt strange—drugged with desire. It was coming over him too fast and hard. He was hot and hard—and getting harder by the minute. And she was practically melting against him. The press of his hips against hers had become a sweet grind, as the gentle friction of their kiss intensified.
Christ.
He groaned, needing to taste her deeper. His hand was on her cheek, caressing the velvety-soft skin, his fingers urging her to open her mouth. When she did, he wanted to let out a roar of pure masculine pleasure. He wanted to plunder her mouth with his tongue, claim every inch of her surrender.
But instead he forced himself to slow. Swallowing her gasp of surprise, he swept his tongue inside, letting her get used to the sensation.
But slow wasn’t working. Not when she responded. At the first slide of her tongue against his, he felt his control slip. With every stroke, every taste, he was descending deeper and deeper into a mindless haze. The smooth seduction was becoming a conflagration of urgent groans and frantic movements.
His body was responding to her with an urgency he couldn’t recall. He couldn’t seem to get enough.
The roar of lust in his ears grew louder, drowning out everything else. It was pounding through his veins in a rush of hot molten lava. All he could think about was the tiny woman against him. The feel of her slight body pressing against his. The feel of her mouth sliding under his. How much he wanted to hitch her up against the door, wrap her legs around him, and sink inside her.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten this hot from a kiss. The awakening of her desire was egging him on.
He dug his fingers through the hair concealed by the veil, groaning at its silky softness. Cradling the back of her head, he brought her mouth closer to his. The kiss grew harder, hotter, more carnal. She was dissolving against him like warm sugar and he couldn’t seem to devour her fast enough.
The sensations firing inside him were too strong. His desire was too intense. His heart was beating too hard, his blood rushing too fast, his skin feeling too hot. He felt himself sinking deeper into the kiss, sinking deeper into her. Moving closer to the point of no return.
From a damned kiss.
He had to stop.
He tore his mouth away with an oath and had to stop himself from stumbling back. It felt as if he’d been caught up in a whirlpool, and then suddenly tossed out.
He stepped back to put distance between them, trying to clear his damned head. He felt light-headed, as if he were moving in a haze.
What the hell was wrong with him? The tincture his sister made him take must have been more potent than he realized.
It couldn’t just be from a kiss.
But one glance at her equally dazed eyes and he had to wonder.
Looking at her was a mistake. His groin tugged hard. Painfully hard. He was no longer in doubt about his fantasy. She was the very embodiment of the wanton nun, and when he looked at her swollen mouth, her half-lidded eyes, and her flushed cheeks he wanted to rip those clothes off her and debauch her thoroughly.
“Meet me after the feast.” He could barely get the words out, his heart was beating so fast.
She blinked up at him—apparently, like him, trying to clear the haze from her head. Their eyes met in the soft glow of firelight. She didn’t say a word; only the heaviness of their breathing and the occasional snap and crackle from the fire in the brazier broke the long silence. She was staring at him, looking for something deep in his eyes while she waged some kind of internal battle.
After what seemed an interminable pause, she finally answered. “I can’t.” He would have pulled her in his arms again and tried to change her mind, but she stopped him with a hand to the chest. For something so small, it proved surprisingly potent. “It has to be now.”
He stilled. “Now? Why?”
She shook her head. “It just does. I can’t explain.”
“But the feast.” Damn it, Bruce was expecting him. He would be furious if he missed the meeting he’d arranged with the countess. “Surely, a few hours won’t make a difference?”
He made a move toward her, but she spun away from him and shook her head. “Now or never—it’s up to you.”
He frowned, hearing something in her voice that made him think she meant it. He didn’t like ultimatums, but he also heard something else. She thought he would refuse.
Heshouldgo straight to the feast and forget about her. But one glance at those still-pink cheeks and swollen lips and he wasn’t sure that was possible. The lass was definitely a distraction he didn’t need, though a damned enticing one.
