“Do you? That is the shortest, most unexpected response,” he said.
Her cheeks felt as if they were flaming. She was an awkward ninny. She should tell him how much she liked him, too.
“I’m sorry,” he said before she could get the courage to form such unfamiliar, sentimental words. “I have embarrassed you unintentionally. In fact, I welcome your short, no-nonsense answers.”
Good, for that was usually what he would get.
“I was most impressed by your critique of your first ballet,” he added.
She groaned slightly, recalling how she’d stuttered through her statements and nearly given up entirely. She lowered her gaze.
“Why are you moaning? My lady, please look at me.”
She raised her eyes to his again.
“What is amiss?” he asked.
“I apologize,” she said, and her father’s presence filled the carriage. If she’d stuttered in front of him and other people as she had done tonight, he would have been furious. And violent.
“Whatever for?”
She didn’t want to draw his attention back to her obvious failing, so she merely shrugged.
Suddenly, he leaned toward her.
When there was a mere fingerbreadth between them, he asked, “May I kiss you again?”
She realized then why he’d asked if Penny could sit up with the driver. It wasn’t to talk about the handkerchiefs at all.How naïve of her!
Adelia nodded as a thrill of anticipation raced through her. Suddenly, his lips were upon hers, warm and firm. He released her hands, yanked off his gloves, and threaded his fingers through her hair. Holding her head steady, his tongue traced the seam of her closed mouth.
Parting her lips, she allowed his tongue’s easy passage. As previously, instead of it feeling invasive and scary, it was pleasurable and exciting.
“Mm,” she murmured unwittingly, and, since he’d released her hands, she was free to lace her fingers behind his neck and hold onto him.
Before she could acknowledge what was happening, Owen’s tongue stroked hers and proceeded to explore her mouth. His hands moved from her hair to her back, coming to rest upon her ribcage. As he kissed her more ardently, he stroked the sides of her breasts with his broad palms, his thumbs creating an arc across the front of each, caressing her through the silk fabric or her gown.
Her body tingled and sizzled. This time, she was not unprepared for the delicious sensations as his thumbs made their wicked sweep across each of her nipples.
It was entirely too warm in the closed carriage. She wished she could remove a few layers, at least her mantle. Outrageously, she imagined removing her gown, for she longed to feel his touch upon her prickling skin.
Sadly, she was encased in medieval armor, or so it felt.
At last, Owen drew back, but not until his mouth latched onto her lower lip, tugging gently as he released her. That slight tug seemed to send a whip of pure fire directly to her most intimate parts, causing her body to soften and—dear God—grow damp between her legs.
Her eyes widened, and her surprised gaze shot to his once more.
Owen must have recognized what she was feeling, and perhaps felt something similar, for he sat back against the seat, breathing heavily, his glance locked with hers.
All too soon, the carriage came to a halt, and the footman was at the door.
“It was over far too quickly, my lady,” Owen protested. “The ballet, I mean.”
With her heart still thumping, she bit her lip, knowing he didn’t mean that at all.
“Where are we going next time?” she asked, which made him pause. “And when?”
Disappointingly, he gave her a sad smile.
