The embrace unspooled so slowly, so gently. It was like unwrapping a delicate, forbidden gift that belonged to someone else. He was no thief, but God, he wanted this. With shaking hands, he worked back layers of ribbon and tissue, careful not to unsettle what was inside.
All the while, she kissed and kissed and melted against him, and he went on basking in her until his bad idea felt like the very best idea he’d ever had.
Helena Lark should not have thought of her grandmother during her first real kiss. She knew this. Thoughts of Gran were distracting and strange and a waste of very precious time. Even so, it was Rosemary Lark’s voice she heard in the final lucid moments before desire swallowed her up.
Well done, Lena, said the sweet, aged voice.I should expect nothing else.
Or that was what Helena hoped she would say.
Gran had been a proponent of darkened stables, ridiculous nightgowns, and men of dubious, groom-spy distinctions.
Helena felt another swipe of Shaw’s mouth, and stopped thinking. Sensation shimmered over her like a net, and she knew only sound and feeling and breath.
How could she think when she was working so very hard to keep up with his mouth? His lips were there one moment, gone the next, there again. Oh, but the last kiss did not retreat; it was prolonged softness, then less soft, then not soft at all, but thrilling. His mouth canted slightly and they fit perfectly together, two halves of a whole; then he canted left and they fit again. It was soft and slick and fast and very, very slow. Desire filled her body like steamy water filling a copper tub: fogged brain, flushed chest, her insides a swirl of liquid heat.
While she melted, strength poured from him like a river over a wheel, and Helena spun and spun. Large hands roved her back. Her instinct was to fall back to be held, but she also wanted to climb him. He allowed for it all, holding her upright with muscled arms and thighs that felt like marble.
With concerted effort, she remembered to breathe. There was so much tofeel. She explored the smooth, roped muscles of his back, sliding searching hands along his sides. When she reached his shoulders, she hooked her arms on both sides and pulled up, straining closer to his mouth.
When she finally turned her head to suck in air, Shaw dropped his mouth to her exposed neck, kissing a hot trail from beneath her ear to the fluffy collar of her robe.
“This isn’t happening,” he said against her chin.
“You have a distorted view of reality,” she gasped. “I assure you, it is happening.”
“You’re afraid,” he said, reclaiming her mouth. “I’m scaring you away.”
“What?” she asked, barely hearing.
“So afraid,” he moaned.
“Wai—” she breathed, but he captured her mouth again. Helena melted into the renewed kiss. His tongue was there now, a fascinating addition to the enterprise. She hung on and tried very hard to remember what he’d just said. Softly, in the back of her mind, his words called.
You’re afraid.
Had he said this? She couldn’t remember. She dropped her head against his neck and allowed him to trace hungry kisses behind her ear. He gathered her up, scooping hands beneath her bottom and pressing her to him. Helena had the errant thought that they absolutely, positively, must do all of this again, and very soon.
Meanwhile, the more he kissed her, the louder his last mumbled statement echoed in her head.
“Wait,” she panted, breathing out the word at last.
Shaw’s mouth froze a heartbeat from hers. He made a slight choking noise. He pulled back. His expression went from hot and half-lidded to stricken and terrified.
Without thinking, she pressed a hand over his mouth exactly as he had done.
“Wait, wait, wait,” she repeated. She sounded like a stage director halting a bad scene.
Slowly, the strings of her mind began to strum like a functioning instrument. She swallowed hard. “Did you just say that I’m frightened?”
“Ah—” he stammered, his lips moving beneath her palm. He looked as if she’d doused him with cold water.
“Right,” she continued. “That’s what I thought you said. First of all, shame on you. You cannot imagine how I’ve been bullied and threatened these last five years. And now you endeavor to scare me? Thank God you’re so very bad at it. There is nothing about you that scares me. I hope this does not distress or unman you, but it’s true.” She took a deep breath. She flung her braid over her shoulder.
Shaw made another distressed sound beneath her palm, and she released him. He staggered two steps back, his brown eyes huge. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. “My lady—” he rasped.
She held up a hand. “Was that it? You kissed me to frighten me away?”
“I don’t—” he began.
