“Just one kiss,” she murmured. “That’s all I ask.”
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “You’re my sister’s closest friend.”
She arched a brow. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He put his hands on his hips, exhaled, then laughed, staring down at the rug. “Nothing, I suppose. I just had to say it out loud.”
She splayed her free hand wide, still committed to convincing him. “I’m not expecting you to ask me to dance in a ballroom full of people. I’m only asking you to kiss me once, here, where only the two of us will know.” She gave him a coy smile. “If it helps, I’m sure Meredith would approve.”
That made him pause. His head lifted, and he narrowed his gaze at her. “Would she?”
“Oh, certainly.” She gave an exaggerated shrug. “She already knows what a rubbish kisser Marsden was. I told her.”
Ash barked a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m actually thinking about doing this,” he breathed.
“Good,” she blurted as a thrill shot through her.
Then he moved.
A single step brought him closer, and before she could react, he plucked the snifter from her hand, setting it aside on the desk.
Her breath hitched.
Then—slowly, deliberately—he curled his hands beneath her elbows, his touch firm but gentle.
Her heart thundered.
He was so close now. Close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, close enough that she could smell the faint trace of brandy on his breath.
He leaned down, his voice a husky whisper against her ear.
“Do you want me to kiss you,” he murmured, “or doyouwant to kissme?”
Clare’s hands shook. She hadn’t expected to be this successful quite so quickly. She met his gaze, her pulse fluttering like a trapped bird. “Is there a difference?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
“Oh, yes,” he said, his lips curving into a roughish grin. “Quite a large one.”
She swallowed. “Which one will be more pleasurable?”
The smile that crossed his face wasdevastating. “That depends.”
He reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from her temple, his fingers grazing her skin. She shuddered.
“Kiss me,” she breathed.
And before she could even draw another breath, he had gathered her hair in one hand, tugging her head back—not painfully, but firmly—and then his mouth was on hers.
Anddear God, he could kiss.
The first brush of his lips was slow, testing, coaxing—but then he deepened it, tilting her head back farther as he licked into her mouth, hot and sure and utterly consuming.
Her hands fisted in the fabric of his waistcoat, desperate for purchase as he took control. As he ruined her for any other kiss that might follow.
When his lips left hers, she barely had time to catch her breath before she felt the warm press of his mouth against her neck.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “Ash?—”
He made a sound deep in his throat, half growl, half something else, as his lips brushed the delicate skin just beneath her jaw.
