Page 50 of Affair

“Baxter.”

“Open your mouth for me.”

She obeyed. And then gave a soft, muffled gasp of surprise when his teeth sank gently into her lower lip.

“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered.

“I know.” She clutched at him, inviting him to deepen the kiss.

He sifted his fingers through her hair. Pins pinged on the polished surface of the desk. And then he slid his hands downward, pausing briefly on her bare shoulders.

“You are so soft.” He stroked the curve of her throat and moved his mouth to the place just below her ear. “Everything about you is smooth and soft.”

She flattened her hands on his chest, savoring the feel of the sleek muscles beneath his crisp, white linen shirt. “And everything about you is very strong and very hard.”

Baxter lifted his head. He removed his spectacles and set them down on the desk beside the fallen hairpins.

She looked into his eyes and caught her breath. Without the veil of his eyeglasses the alchemist’s fires that burned in his gaze flared more intensely than molten gold. She could see the danger, but the flames fascinated and enthralled her.

“I want to feel your breasts in my hands.” Baxter tugged gently at the tiny sleeves of her gown.

The bodice fell away, baring her to the waist. She shivered, violently aware of the lamplight that revealed her taut nipples. She ached. It was a delicious, thrilling, unbelievable sensation. She heard herself cry out softly when Baxter cupped her in his palms.

“You’re beautiful.” His voice was so low and husky that the words were almost inaudible.

He rasped his thumbs across the tips of her swollen breasts. She could not get any air into her lungs. It was only the driving need to inhale more of his intoxicating, utterly masculine scent that made her draw in another deep breath.

A great urgency poured through her. She crushed the fabric of his shirt in her fingers. Her head fell back. “Baxter. This is incredible.”

“Yes.” He bent his head and took one nipple between his teeth.

“Oh, my God.” Swiftly she untied his cravat and sought the fastenings of his shirt with trembling fingers.

He froze. “No.”

She ignored him. She got the shirt open and pushed her hands inside.

“Bloody hell.” Baxter did not move. It was as if he awaited a blow he knew he could not avoid.

She touched him eagerly, savoring the heat and strength of his body. Her fingers moved through the crisp, curling hair of his chest and then she wrapped her arms around him and flattened her palms against his back.

She felt the roughened skin and knew it for what it was. Baxter was badly scarred.

It was her turn to go very still. She raised her head and looked at him. “You’ve been hurt.”

“Three years ago.” His eyes were grim and unwavering. “Long since healed.”

“What happened?”

“Acid.”

“Dear God. A laboratory accident?”

His smile was completely lacking in humor. “In a manner of speaking.”

“I am so sorry. It must have been very painful.”

“Not anymore. But the scars are unsightly. Give me a moment to put out the light.” He made to step back from her.

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