I wanted her to smile again. “You wish Valancourt from Udolpho was real so you could marryhim.”
Her eyes darted up to mine. “False.”
“Liar,” I smirked. “I bet you’ve marked up every line he speaks.”
Her mouth formed a perfect, surprised O, and she blew out a breath. “Mark in a book? You’re mad.”
“Perhaps if I read his lines aloud, you’d think differently of me.” I tugged my hand from her grasp, scooting backward toward the table, and she pushed up on her knees.
“Leave my Udolpho alone.” She started to laugh. “Lucas, I mean it.”
I froze at the sound of my name on her lips.Lucas.Not Marlow. Not Duke. Just Lucas.
But my outstretched hand had already snagged her book from the table. I scooted back further and opened to a page, laughing, reveling in the vibrations our voices created together, as I scanned the words for his name. Drat, if Ann Radcliffe didn’t droll on and on and on.
“Lucas!” Georgiana clambered over me, reaching for the book. “Give it here.”
I had to fall back to escape her, stretching out my arm as long as it would go. But she was adamant. Her neck flushed red all the way to her forehead.
I chuckled, trying to roll out of her reach. “My word, youdolove this man.”
My words incited a fury in her, and in an instant, she had my outstretched arm in a hold and ripped the book from my hand. But she couldn’t roll away fast enough. My free arm twisted around her waist. My leg pinned hers.
“Please,” she begged, her breaths coming hard and fast and mingling with mine, half laughing from the suddenmadness we’d created. She clutchedUdolphoto her chest like her dying wish. “Don’t hurt him.”
I’d already forgotten about Valancourt. I leaned over her. Traced her jaw with my free hand. Our eyes locked for the longest moment of my life.
“You like me more than Valancourt,” I whispered.
Her chest rose and fell as she recovered herself. Her gaze washed over my face, then dropped to my mouth.
I thumbed her cheek. Silently begged for her to speak.
“True,” she whispered on a breath.
My chest was on fire. I was engulfed in flames.
She shifted beneath my hold until we were lying side by side. Our knees slid against each other, and our elbows clumsily bumped in the darkening room as we folded our arms and perched our heads upon them.
“You want to kiss me,” she whispered, so close the air between us was palpable.
“Very, very true.” I brushed her hair back, then threaded my fingers through the soft curls at her neck, drawing her nearer. “You’re scared to kiss me back.”
She nodded her nose against mine. Her sweet breath teased my lips in little puffs. “Lucas,” she murmured. “We shouldn’t.”
“But you want to?” I sounded like the weak, sodden fool I was.
Slowly, her fingers traced around my neck. She whispered, “True.”
My lips met hers on instinct, as though they’d been waiting for the word, for this moment, for a lifetime. A single brush of my lips against hers was like lightning rushingthrough me. She felt softer than flower petals. Tasted sweeter than honey.
She was hesitant at first. Slow and measured and gentle as we breathed each other in once, twice, again. I felt the moment her confidence took hold, followed her lead as she tilted her head and let me deepen the kiss.
How had I lived before this? I was consumed by her lips, her skin on mine. Altered by every fragment her fingers touched.
The story I’d told her about kissing my tutor was child’s play.Thiswas a kiss. This was the feeling men sought, yearned their lifetime for, and I had it right here in my arms. I wanted this for the rest of my life.
Her fingers dug into the nape of my neck, urging me closer. I grinned into the kiss, and she did too. My hand in her hair moved down her back, pressing her close, pulling her closer, feeling her body against mine.
