“Justine. I cannot stop thinking of you. It is worse at night. I think of your laugh, the curve of your neck, the curve at your waist.” He stopped talking, swallowing another hitch in his voice. “You are . . .”
She cocked her head to the side. “I am what?” She was waiting for the words she’d heard before, the words that other men had said, likepretty,orbeautiful, or even that she was afirecracker.
“. . . surprisingly good at everything.”
Justine rocked back on her heels. “I am?”
“Yes,” he said. “And you’re quick-thinking, ready to solve problems, always witty and charming, even at the crux of a difficult walk. Still, you can make me laugh when my heart is pounding in my chest.”
“You are annoyingly capable too,” she said. Was it just her, or was this making her heart be faster? Her words harder to get out?
“I find you so irritatingly attractive.” Karl inched closer, on his knees, matching her. “Especially now, with your hair down. I like that best.” He reached up, as if he might pull a lock of hair between his fingers, but he stopped short.
“I like you best.” She leaned toward him, her lips inches from his, wondering if she should be doing this, and what Lady Rascomb would say. Oh, she knew exactly what Lady Rascomb would say. And she knew it was a bad idea, but they felt like two magnets, opposites, being pulled together by unseen forces.
“You are my best client,” he murmured, leaning down so that his lips gently brushed hers.
The tingle of his rougher lips against hers drove dancing sparks down to her toes. “Is this something you—”
He pressed his lips to hers, shutting off her question, and shutting off her mind. His arms came around her, one cradling the nape of her neck. She’d been kissed before, of course, even passionately so—but this was different. He was bigger, he was respectful, he was what she wanted.
He angled his head, his tongue exploring outward, but she didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Soon, he shifted and pressed smaller kisses to her mouth, and then her cheek, and her neck. “Justine, tell me I have to stop.”
But she tilted her head back so he could kiss down to her collarbone. “I don’t want you to stop.”
“I must, because if I don’t, it will be more than you want—”
“What if I want everything?” she asked, her eyes blazing open.
“It isn’t right. You are—” he stopped nipping and talking and grunted as he slid his tongue across her chest, pushing aside the nightrail that covered her.
His hand moved from her back and the nape of her neck, to squeezing her waist. Then those broad calloused hands inched up her rib cage.
“Tell me to stop,” he begged.
“No,” she said, her heart pounding, the heat between her legs pulsing.
He groaned again and cupped one breast in his hand, shocking her with the suddenness of his touch. Lifting his head, he recaptured her mouth as he kneaded her breast.
Then she melted against him. This felt better than anything. Better than ascending Ben Nevis. Better than any cake or tea. This was bliss, and she wanted every piece of it.
He tore away from her. “Nein,” he panted.
Justine was gulping air as if they were on a mountaintop, and she was pleased to see he was as well. His erection was clear under his night shirt, outlined in the dim glow of the stove. She couldn’t help but stare. It was different than she thought it would look, but then, she didn’t know exactly what she’d imagined.
“This isn’t appropriate.” Karl shook his head, getting to his feet. “You are an Englishwoman. I am your guide. Mountain guide.”
“What about—”
“It does not matter.” He walked in small circles. “If word got out that I ravished you, I would no longer be deemed trustworthy.”
“Ravishme? I wanted this more than you did.”
He barked out a laugh. “Trust me, no.”
“Don’t tell me what I want.”
“You don’t know what you speak of, Justine. My desire, my lust for you is too great. If I go past a certain point, I can no longer think. That is why I cannot begin.”
