“Still glaring?”he murmured against her mouth.
“Still talking,” she whispered—and then she lifted her chin and met him properly.
Nicholas made a low sound that wasn’t quite laughter.His mouth slanted over hers again, lingering this time, tasting rather than teasing.He nudged at her lower lip—once, twice—patient, a man with all the time in the world, until Bea parted for him with a moan.
“That’s it,” he breathed, guessing that praising her would make her furious enough to give him exactly what he wanted.
It did.
Bea kissed him back with sudden heat, a sharp press of mouth to mouth that turned his indulgent control into something ragged.Nicholas’s hands slid to her face, steadying her as the carriage rocked, fingers splaying along the curve of her jaw with quiet certainty.He deepened the kiss, slow at first—drawing it out, letting her feel every shift of pressure, every careful drag of his lips over hers, until her breath stuttered.
Bea’s palm flattened against his chest.His heartbeat pulsed under her glove—too fast for a man who liked to pretend nothing could touch him.
“Again,” she demanded when he broke away just a fraction.
Nicholas’s eyes gleamed.“So commanding.”
“Do it,” she whispered.
He did.
Nicholas kissed her again, mouth opening on hers as if he meant to devour her stubbornness at his own unhurried pace.One hand moved down to her waist, and a thumb stroked there once—an almost absent caress that sent heat curling through her.Bea made a small, traitorous sound and surged closer, closing the space completely.She was done with courtesy and consequences.
Nicholas’s breath hitched.The next kiss was not playful at all.It was hungry—still controlled, still deliberate, but edged now with the kind of need that made a man forget to be clever.His fingers slid up her side, catching lightly in the fabric at her ribs, and Bea’s hands went up—one to his shoulder, the other slipping into his hair at the nape of his neck before she could stop herself.
It was absurdly soft.
Nicholas went still for half a heartbeat, as if he were startled by the intimacy of it.
Then he groaned, low and helpless, and the kiss turned molten.
His hand slid to the back of her head, not forcing, not trapping—guiding.His fingers threaded into her hair, loosening pins with a skill that suggested far too much practice, and Bea’s pulse skittered at the realization even as she clutched him harder.
“Nicholas,” she breathed into his mouth, a warning she didn’t quite mean.
He answered by kissing her more deeply.
His tongue traced the seam of her lips in a slow, coaxing stroke—an invitation more dangerous than any command.Bea shivered, then opened for him with a fierce, reckless decision, and Nicholas took it—tongue to tongue, warm and intimate and unpardonably delicious.The kiss became a tangle of breath and heat, his mouth moving with patient certainty as if he meant to teach her exactly how far pleasure could be taken in the space of a few stolen minutes.
Bea’s fingers tightened in his hair, tugging just enough to make him curse softly against her mouth.She felt his smile there—wicked, satisfied—and she bit his lower lip in retaliation.
Nicholas made a sound that was pure approval.
The carriage lurched gently over cobblestones, and they rocked together, foreheads nearly touching, mouths still chasing, refusing to let the kiss end.Nicholas’s hair was mussed beneath Bea’s hands, falling out of its perfect order; Bea felt her own pins giving way, strands slipping loose around her face.
When Nicholas finally pulled back, it wasn’t far.Just enough to breathe—just enough to look at what they’d done.
Her lips were swollen.Her breath was uneven.A lock of her hair had fallen across her cheek, and Nicholas—still too close—tucked it back with a thumb that lingered at the corner of her mouth.
Bea glared at him out of habit.
Nicholas’s eyes flicked to her lips, then up again, dark with triumph.
“You’ve ruined my hair,” Bea said, voice unsteady.
Nicholas’s smile was slow and sinful.“I’m just getting started.”
Her only answer was a delighted smile.
