Page 537 of From Rakes to Riches

“If the blacklegs catch wind of Dido, we’ll have twenty false starts on race day.”

Gem nodded, pensive. “To rattle her.”

“Indeed.”

Rake found that, in the course of the discussion, many happenings had occurred. Gem’s grip on the shirt had, first, loosened, then fallen away entirely, leaving the V unguarded and open, exposing creamy flesh…the subtle curve of her breasts beneath.

Further, her speaking voice had altered. Nay, not changed, but she’d begun speaking in a voice entirely her own, and he noticed subtleties within it. The raspy quality no longer gruff but possessed of a warmth and sensual femininity.

She’d forgotten who she was pretending to be and was simply being herself.

He noticed something else.

The look in her eyes when she glanced up at him. Within lay a suggestion that she’d taken note of a few things about him too.

Yet it was more than mere observation.

Awareness.

That was what he saw in her eyes.

Awareness of herself.

As a woman.

Awareness of him.

As a man.

Awareness ofthem.

As something that could be.

Of its own accord, his hand reached for a loose tendril and tucked it behind her ear.

And she let him.

His hand didn’t return to his side. Instead, light fingertips traced the whorl of her ear…touched the ivory column of her neck…slid around…wove through silky hair the color of an autumn sunset…unloosing the leather tie, so her curls now fell free…

And her direct, gold-flecked green eyes didn’t flinch or shift.

In fact, as his head instinctively angled down, she might’ve lifted onto the tips of her toes, so her parted mouth was but a hairsbreadth from his…the soft susurration of her breath a light whisper of air across his lips…

Which left him with but one choice…

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Pulled along by utter and complete, impatient and irresistible—absolute—want, Gemma strained upward. Her breath caught in her throat…until…at last…her mouth touched his—lips firm, but yielding, against hers…

He tasted of brandy, delicious and intoxicating, as his tongue stroked her bottom lip. She groaned into his mouth, and her tongue met his and she fell headlong into his kiss.

Of a sudden, hands were everywhere. Hers tousling through his dark hair. One of his woven through her curls, the other at the small of her back, pulling her close…closer…so close her body now strained against him…the length of his manhood thick andhardagainst her stomach.

Another groan poured from her. This one borne of pure, impatient lust.

Her body had become a vessel of raw, needy ache. Itneededthe feel—thefullness—ofthatinside hernow.

Yet…through the desire prickled another feeling…

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