By listening, Serena played her small part in whatever would happen to France. She hadn’t expected Guillaume and Felicity to abandon her to the other man. When she told them tomorrow what had happened, they would undoubtedly regret having done so.
She supposed it could have gone badly if Christoff had managed to take her pistol away.
“I’m glad you weren’t terribly injured,” she said. And suddenly, she did feel remorse for causing him to be pummeled and cut. Perhaps she was immature and reckless, after all. What could an experienced, confident man like Malcolm Branley want with her anyway? “Good evening, monsieur.” With that, she turned to the door.
Malcolm was after her quick as a gunshot. He didn’t touch her, but he stood close.
“Do you count Christoff among your allies?” he asked quietly.
She couldn’t help looking at his lips, recalling how they felt pressed against her own, before she raised her gaze to his, and his words filtered into her distracted brain.
“Allies? Do you mean friends?”
“Yes,” he agreed. “I suppose it got lost in the translation.”
But his French was good enough for her to know he’d usedalliésrather thanamison purpose. Plainly Malcolm was wondering if she was aligned with those who wanted to keep Bonaparte in power.
“Monsieur, I have many friends in Paris, including you.”
His eyebrows raised. Perhaps he didn’t count himself among her friends. She sighed.
And somehow, without even realizing how it happened, Serena swayed against him and his arms were suddenly around her, pulling her close. Tilting her head, she waited for the kiss she knew would come.
She didn’t have to wait long. His firm mouth claimed hers, and she felt a sizzle down to her booted toes. Unable to help herself, she reached up and wrapped her hands around the back of his neck. He took a step back into the room, bringing her with him. And somehow, perhaps with his foot, the door shut behind them, closing out the world beyond his small garret.
His tongue licked the seam of her lips, and she parted them. Immediately, Malcolm plundered her mouth, stroking with his tongue, then sucking hers when it met his. She shut her eyes as the sizzling in her body turned to scorching flames, pooling with molten heat at her core.
She moaned, thoroughly enjoying all the sensations he was invoking. With another step and a turn, like a wicked waltz, she felt his bed behind her legs just before they tumbled onto it.
Shocked, her eyes flew open, and she looked up into his serious face. His irises appeared nearly black.How strange!
And then she closed her eyes once more when he bent low and took her mouth under his again. At the same time, he ground his hips against the soft juncture between her thighs.
She was pinned, unable to move if she wanted to. But she didn’t want to go anywhere, except to separate her legs under him, needing to feel him nestled where she throbbed. Frustratingly, her dress and his weight atop her precluded any such adjustments.
His kisses moved from her mouth to her chin, before trailing a shivery path down her throat, causing her to arch her neck, giving him better access. Without fumbling, he undid the button of her cloak, and it fell open, exposing not only her neck but her décolletage.
He groaned, and she felt the sound deep inside her, turning her muscles and bones to liquid. His mouth continued its devilish exploration across her collarbone to the sensitive hollow at the base of her throat where she could feel her heartbeat pulsing wildly. When his lips trailed a whisper soft path lower to the upper swell of her left breast, she threaded her fingers in his hair, relishing the texture of it, like a thick pelt.
All she could do was hold him to her. When he tugged at the top of her gown, shockingly exposing her, it was heaven. And when his mouth clamped over her nipple, she gasped, instantly rising toward him.
Wishing she could run her hands over his bare skin, she started tugging at his coat, until he rose from her, shrugged out of it, and sent it to the floor.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered before taking her other nipple into his hot, wet mouth.
And she believed his words, feeling extraordinarily beautiful under his wondrous ministrations. She’d managed to part her legs when he’d raised up. As he settled again, his hips fit perfectly against the apex of her thighs, and she could feel the hard length of him through his breeches and her layers of gown and petticoat.
She’d seen images, naturally, both in paintings and in books, but this ... this! Experiencing the stiffness of a man’s arousal was both thrilling and a little scary. She also couldn’t stop her body welcoming him, meeting his as best she could.
Yet still she couldn’t touch him. Almost frantic, Serena slipped her hands in the small space under his waistcoat and tugged his shirt out from the back of his breeches. At last, his warm skin was under her fingers and palms.
He startled at her touch, before returning to the breathtaking business of teasing her nipples, first one, then the other, leaving both her breasts feeling heavy, full, and sensitive.
And then one of his hands began to draw up her skirts, as many layers as he could, until she felt the cool air across one of her legs. She froze, waiting for what pleasure would come next.
When his fingers, trailed across the sensitive skin of her thigh, she gasped and held her breath. He shifted sideways, allowing his hand better access. And when his fingers brushed against the curls between her legs, she let out a breath and took in another ragged one.
Upon his second touch, he went deeper between her damp folds.
