The second his lips met hers, every inch of his skin and the hair on the back of his neck leapt to life, though the kiss was gentle, restrained.
At first.
But it wasn’t long before he was sliding his tongue against the seam of her lips, tormented by that hint of damp heat.
Not enough…
Her chest moved against his in a long, slow, warm drift of her breath against his lips, and then she parted for him.
Once he was inside, every thought fled, except one.
More.
“Yes.” She toyed with the hair at the back of his neck, sifting it through her fingers. “Please, more.”
Had he said it aloud? There was no time to answer that question—hardly time to ask it—before he was drowning in her. He eased her backward, so she was pressed against his desk, then closed his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the wide, smooth surface. A few letters drifted to the floor, but he didn’t care.
He didn’tcare.
She let out a soft gasp, as if surprised, but she remained where she was, her face tipped up to his. Her lips were redder than usual, a trifle swollen from his kiss, and he let out a pained groan as his cock jerked against his falls.
A shiver went through her when he took her mouth again, his tongue stroking hers with gentle insistence, then harder, demanding a response, his restraint crumbling with every heated drift of her breath.
“Closer,” he growled against her lips.
She rested a hand on his chest. “Any closer, my lord, and you’ll be on my lap.”
He choked out a laugh, and paused to run his tongue up the silky skin of her neck and behind her ear, soft vanilla invading his senses, and making him dizzy with desire. "You smell so good,” he murmured, low in her ear, then closed his teeth around her earlobe.
She gasped, her other hand flying to his chest. “Did you just… bite me?”
“It was more of a nibble, really.” He did it again, taking her soft, plump lobe between his lips, teasing her until she was sighing in his arms, then he slid his hands down to her curved hips, holding her still as he scraped his teeth gently down her throat.
She sucked in another breath at the caress. “Oh, that… it feels so strange.”
He touched his fingertip to the shallow indentation in the center of her chin, the dimple so tiny it would be imperceptible to anyone whose whole attention wasn’t fixed on her face.
But his was. He’d noticed that dimple the first time he’d seen her. After that, nothing about the lines of her face had gone unnoticed by him. He’d studied every arch, every curve, and learned every subtlety of the geometry of her face.
“Tell me to stop, Juliet.” If she didn’t push him away, he’d be mad enough to keep kissing her…
“What if I don’t want you to stop?”
“You should want it.” Already he was hard and aching for her, every instinct screaming at him to push her knees apart and make a home for himself between her thighs. He traced his finger over her lush lower lip, then let it trail down her long, slender neck until it came to a stop between her breasts.
She made a sound then, a hushed breath, or a throaty sigh, perhaps, but she didn’t push him away—just gazed up at him with those blue eyes that haunted him, not a single thing about her expression warning him there was a line beyond which she would not permit him to cross.
Good Lord, but she was dangerous, to his body, and to his heart.
Without warning, his fingers tightened around her hips and he jerked her closer to the edge of the desk, only his thighs and the bulk of his body keeping her from toppling forward onto the floor. He caught her wrists and raised them to his shoulders. “Put your arms around my neck.”
She did as he bid her, but hid her eyes behind her long, thick eyelashes.
“No, Juliet.” He raised her chin. “Look at me.”
“I see you, my lord. I have from the start.” She peeked up at him from under her lashes, a glitter of blue fire behind that lush, dark fringe, a tease and a temptation, yes, but she’d never been the seductress he’d once told himself she was.
She’d never been anyone other than herself.
