Miss Howard’s eyes widened and he realized belatedly that he had practically barked the question, the name David Partridge igniting a fury inside him that made him wish the man would materialize before him for the sole purpose of being punched in the face. But rather than burst into tears or flee the room, she raised her chin higher. “No. But that is not the point.”
Griffin nodded, too relieved to do anything else as his muscles relaxed and his breaths evened out.
“You risked all of our reputations this evening,” she went on, “because of some ancient caveman instinct you failed to quell.”
His muscles drew tight once again and he moved toward her, deliberately dominating the space between them with his much greater size. As he’d expected, she took a step backward. “Was it misplaced?” he asked gently.
She sucked in a breath and retreated some more, moving right when he cut off her path to the left. Until the dining room table brought her to a halt when her bottom bumped against it. “I…um…” She glanced over her shoulder as if to make sure that there was an obstacle in her way.
Griffin moved in closer, more determined than ever to discover if they had a chance of sharing a future together – if tormenting himself for her would ever be rewarded. So he planted his hands on her waist and lifted her up, seating her on the edge of the table.
“Griffin!” Surprise lent a breathy and thoroughly intoxicating element to her voice. Her hand went straight to his shoulder, gripping it firmly in an instinctive effort to keep her balance.
A surge of heat hit him square in the chest in response to her use of his given name without the honorific. “Yes?” He pressed his thumbs gently into her waist before letting his hands slide down over her hips until they settled boldly on top of her thighs. Holding her gaze, he eased her legs apart to create a space for him to stand.
Her eyes widened when he stepped in between, then again when he pushed up against her, right there were he knew he’d affect her the most. “This is…” her words turned into a sigh when he pulled her to him for added contact “…not very proper.”
He gave a low chuckle and let his hands slide up her arms, over her shoulders, along her neck, and into her hair. “It’s nothing compared with what I am thinking.”
Half dazed, her eyes met his from beneath lowered lashes. “That cannot be true.”
The words reminded him of her innocence, causing him to examine his actions. His hands stilled on the verge of pulling pins from her coiffure. What the hell was he doing? He closed his eyes briefly and took a quick breath, inhaling her fragrance of lavender and soap. Jesus, he ought to be ashamed of himself for taking advantage, which was obviously what he was doing.
“If you want me to go, then I will,” he said, forcing the words out with the sort of effort that ought to be rewarded with a medal.
“I’m not sure what I want anymore,” she confessed in a voice so low he almost didn’t hear her.
He opened his eyes, pulled a pin from her hair, and placed it on the table. “Perhaps it’s time to find out.” When she nodded, he continued undoing her hair until the locks cascaded over her shoulders. He ran his fingers through it, savoring the silky feel of it sliding against his skin while allowing himself to envision her in his bed, her hair spread loosely upon his pillow.
Moving one hand to her jaw, he cradled her lightly while stroking her cheek with his thumb. She leaned into the touch with a sensual sigh that challenged his finely held control. Griffin dipped his head, almost grazing his lips with hers though not quite. He’d already made his position clear. If she wanted more, she would have to take the next step.
So he waited for what felt like a hundred years, hovering there on the brink of kissing, until finally, blessedly, she raised her mouth to his.
12
Soft but firm.
Emily felt the gentle press of his lips against hers just as keenly as when he’d kissed her at the ball. But unlike then, he did not draw away this time. Instead he stayed, allowing her to adjust to each new sensation: the slow exhale of his breath mingling with hers, a hint of brandy, the scent of sandalwood clinging to his skin, and the slight abrasion of stubble scraping her chin.
Without even thinking, she wound her arms around his neck and drew him closer. A low rumble vibrated through him, like distant thunder warning of an approaching storm. Her fingers raked upward into his hair, and she felt his lips part on a tight inhalation, his hand flex against the curve of her cheek. He was holding himself in check, his body poised, every muscle tightly strung while he let her explore.
Smiling against his mouth, she paused for a second to ponder how best to proceed and involuntarily licked her own lips and Griffin’s by proximity. The effect it had on him was almost explosive. He was like a slumbering beast brought awake with a start, pulling her to him as if he was starved and her mouth was the banquet on which he would feast. She gasped in response and he took advantage. He claimed her mouth with his own, tasting, biting, and licking. It was savage and needy, yet expertly done. She could tell he was skilled, so she let him guide her, submitting completely to his advances and loving every wild, uninhibited second of it.
This was what she’d been seeking, this unleashed passion that brought her body alive. It heightened her senses and tuned her awareness until it aligned with his, each nerve ending sparking in response to each touch and wrenching new, unfamiliar sounds from her throat.
When he broke away from her mouth, she whimpered in protest. Her hands tightened their hold on him, desperate to pull him back. Until he began planting soft little kisses along the edge of her jaw. She tilted her head then and loosed her grip, yielding to his expert ministrations. His teeth nipped her earlobe and she sucked in a breath, surprised by the pleasure the playful pinch gave her.
“I could kiss you forever,” he murmured, his voice stirring the hair at the nape of her neck, sending lovely shivers racing down her spine.
“This is certainly better than your previous attempt.” Where did that sultry voice come from? She didn’t even know she could speak like that, as she imaged a courtesan would.
He chuckled against her, sending fluttery heat straight into her belly. “That was no attempt at all, you cheeky minx.”
Before she could manage a response, his mouth captured hers again, more insistent than before, as if he had something to prove. Emily did her best to keep up, copying him in an effort to hone her own skills. His hand roamed over her shoulder, the tips of his fingers playing lightly with the neckline of her gown. His thumb grazed her breast.
Yes.
Please.
