She needed more. Needed him. His hands on her. Everywhere.
Intent on encouraging him, she arched her back, pressing herself more firmly against him. He shuddered and he broke the kiss once again to rest his forehead against hers.
“Emily...”
His voice was rough and unsteady, his fingers so close to where she wanted them most. A series of low, labored breaths escaped him. She felt his chest rise and fall, a brief straining of limbs before they relaxed. He let his hand fall, placed a soft kiss at her temple, and took a step back.
No.
Emily stared at him, her body still hungry for something that she was convinced only he could give her. She wanted to grab him, shake him, rail at him for—
“You should go. Before I take additional liberties.”
She shook her head while he helped her stand, smoothed out her gown. “But I...” Dear God, she would be both honest and brave even if it killed her. She met his dark gaze. “I want to continue.”
A nerve ticked at the edge of his jaw. “No.” He found her hand, raised it to his lips, and met her gaze while pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. “Not tonight.” His voice was firm, unyielding.
So she went, swaying slightly on legs that seemed too weak to hold her. She paused before stepping into the hallway and looked back to find him watching, his body rigid, like he was struggling to stay where he was.
“Go,” he urged her, “and make sure you lock your bedchamber door.”
The reality of what she risked if she didn’t was evident in the strained tone of his voice. And now that a moment had passed since their kiss and she could think clearly again, she appreciated the effort he made to save her from making a terrible mistake. Because kissing was one thing, losing her innocence quite another.
So she did as he told her, acutely aware that her feelings for him had quadrupled during the last ten minutes. Which meant careful consideration was in order, before she did anything further.
When she wokethe next morning, Emily stayed in bed for at least an hour. She stared at the ceiling while going over everything that had happened the night before, from the moment she’d put on the scarlet dress to when Griffin had told her to go to bed.
Had he really kissed her as if the world were ending? She pressed her fingertips to her lips and smiled against them. Yes. He most certainly had. And it had been marvelously enlightening.
She rolled onto her side with a grin. No wonder Mary was eager to sneak off with Caleb at every opportunity. It made sense if this was what they were doing.
She bit her lip and felt her brow tighten with a frown. There was more to discover of course. Cassandra had told her enough to make her aware of that. And she’d also read a book or two in an effort to better understand why copulation appealed to so many people when it seemed like something that would be both awkward and uncomfortable.
But if Griffin kissed her the way he had last night in the process, perhaps then...
She sighed and pulled her pillow over her head. When she’d set out to learn what kissing entailed, she’d meant to leave it at that. Except now, she was apparently considering a whole lot more. With a man she’d fallen in love with. Only he would be leaving soon. Not for London or even Scotland, but for Austria, which might as well be China for all the difference it made.
With a groan of frustration she sat, determined to stop her mind from babbling to itself. One thing was certain and that was that Griffin was interested. In her.
She chuckled at that thought. Would their kiss last night lead to a deeper attachement between them? Would he let it? She had no idea.
A knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” she called.
Her mother entered, carrying a cup of tea. “I worried you might not be well.” She handed the tea to Emily, who took a grateful sip. “You’re usually up much earlier than this.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost ten.”
Emily placed her cup on the table and went to find a dress. The one from last night was flung over a chair in the corner, reminding her once again of the kiss she’d shared with Griffin. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, averting her face so her mother would not see her blush. “You must be starving by now.”
“Not really. Lord Griffin made breakfast.” When Emily stilled, her hand on the wardrobe door, her mother added, “He’s surprisingly capable.”
No doubt about that.
Emily’s cheeks grew hotter. Had his tongue really licked over hers? Good God. She would now have to face him. Without being sure where they stood with each other and without revealing anything to her mother. Her stomach rolled over on that realization.
When she’d woken, she’d been too distracted by the lovely recollection of Griffin’s embrace to ponder the complexities of the situation. She did so now and was suddenly less eager to leave her bedchamber than she had been a moment earlier.
