She looked up. He could just make out the green of her eyes. She appeared... mystified, like she was walking through a dream.
Declan’s control, already so thin, rapidly drained away. A very distant chant ofNo, no, nopecked his brain, an inconsequential bird in an inconsequential tree, miles away.
“This is new,” she whispered, “in the way of resistance.” She licked her lips. “I had not thought to seduce one of the grooms.”
“Please do not say that,” he rumbled. “This is not resistance, nor seduction. This isnot happening.”
“I believe it is happening,” she said. “I’ve never been...taken upby a man before. It is a singular experience.”
Declan opened his mouth to say something but realized that honestly there was nothing he could say. He thought of pulling away but didnot have the strength. He thought of tossing her over his shoulder and hauling her to the house, but that ship had sailed. He didn’t have the will to return h—
Suddenly he was struck by the glimmer of an idea.
A very bad but potentially effective idea.
It would be like dropping a heavy bundle down a hill instead of lugging it down on his back.
He stepped closer and repeated her last words. “A singular experience, you say?”
She narrowed her eyes, confused. Her lips formed the most irresistible almost-smile.
If she told him to stop, he would. If she looked alarmed or distressed, he would stop.
If she was afraid of him, she would not ask favors of him or test his loyalties.
If she was afraid of him, she would not seek him out in dark stables.
If she was afraid of him, she would not torture him.
He stared at her mouth, waiting impatiently for her to say the word.
Please tell me to stop.
Slowly, carefully, with fingers that shook, he reseated his hands on her waist. He met her gaze; their eyes locked. His expression was meant to convey entitlement and possession and strength.
She laughed.
She actually laughed. A light, musical sound. “Well,” she said. “Come on, then.”
Declan growled, and scooted her to the edge of the workbench in one forceful yank. She suckedin a little breath. She settled her hands on his forearms as she tipped her head up. The wordstopseemed like the furthest thing from her mind.
Declan went slowly, carefully, closing the distance between them. With the pressure of a feather, he bussed her lips with a soft kiss. Once. Twice...
So soft. Oh God, so soft.His eyes drifted closed. He dipped again. On the third pass, he remainedright there, his bottom lip pressed to the crease of her mouth. He nibbled, gave a teasing lick.
Helena smiled, trying to follow along. Her eager innocence was his undoing.
He wanted to devour her. Everything about her—her confidence, her cleverness and courage, her ridiculous grandmotherly gown—made him ravenous. She was so deliciously unschooled, uncertain but intoxicatingly eager.
She let out a little sound, the noise of delight and desire, and he matched it with a groan. His hands moved, smoothing his palms from her waist up the curve of her back. He felt her braid against the back of his hand and fumbled for it, wrapping it around his knuckles. He tugged, ever so slightly. Lady Helena arched her neck and sighed.
She’d held her body taut and upright, straining for his lips, but now she moved in a languid sort of daze, coming alive under his hands. She turned her head to breathe and her cheek scraped the stubble of his beard. Her hands climbed from his neck and dug into his hair, squeezing, pressing his face down. She burrowed into his chest until there was nothing between them. The soft, slight weight of her imprinted on him like warm wind to a stiff sail. His chest swelled; she filled his consciousness. He was propelled while he stood stock-still.
The heartbeat in his ears accelerated, blotting out all sound. If every horse in the stable had been set free, he would not have heard. His vision was reduced to flashes of her skin and her gown andher. Every sense was alive with Helena Lark.
He tried to think, hemeantto think, but he’d been plunged into a pool of desire, and he was too far from the surface to swim up. He wanted to drown.
She was such a quick learner. When he tipped his head one way, she canted the other. When he teased her with his tongue, she met him with her own. Her hands trailed from his hair, down his neck, off his shoulders, kneading all the way. When she reached his biceps, she dug in. Her right leg hooked behind his left knee, and Declan groaned into her mouth.
