Page 23 of A Wicked Game

He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat, withdrew a silver pocket watch, and pressed it into her hand. “There. You can use that.”

Harriet closed her fingers around the watch. The metal was warm from the heat of his body and a tiny mechanical vibration pulsed against her palm with every tick of the second hand. She was about to object to the absurdity of the suggestion when he slid his fingers into the hair at her nape, tilted her head to the perfect angle, and kissed her again.

There was nothing patient or respectful aboutthiskiss. His grip tightened at the back of her head and he leaned in, his thrilling masculine weight pressing against her as his lips plied hers. Coaxing, teasing, with a persuasiveness hard to resist.

She softened just a fraction. Then remembered she was supposed to be counting.

One… two…

His tongue slid across the seam of her lips.

Three… four…

He caught her bottom lip between his teeth, the faintest of bites, a teasing challenge to engage.

Goose bumps broke out over her skin.

She parted her lips.

His tongue swept inside, tangling with hers, and she nearly swooned. The scent of him coiled in her head, fogging her brain, filling her senses. Desperate for more, she touched her tongue to his, and the world narrowed to the wicked tangle of their mouths.

Desire pounded in her blood and pooled heavy between her legs. They weren’t two beings but one, merged together, so close they shared a breath, a heartbeat.

Without thought she slid her hand up his chest and over his shoulder, solid muscle and cloth. Her fingers found the warm skin of his neck, above his cravat, and she pulled him to her, drowning in glorious sensation.

Morgan groaned, and the dark edge of hunger in the sound made her shiver. It should have frightened her, but the thought of him losing control because ofherwas so delicious, so forbidden, she could barely breathe.

Here be dragons.

She was sailing straight off the edge of the map, off the edge of the world.

She didn’t care. Knowledge was power.Thiswas power.She could feel it. Drugging her, coursing through her veins, making her weak and strong at the same time. She knew how to kiss this man. It was as if she’d kissed him a thousand times before, a path so familiar she must have walked it in another life.

Morgan pulled back with a muffled curse and her eyes snapped open. Cool air danced across her wet lips and with a sudden shock she realized her left hand was still on his neck. She released him immediately and he did the same, letting his hands fall from where they cupped her head.

Her heart was pounding as if she’d run a race.

“Ten seconds!” Morgan panted.

Harriet blinked. Dear God, she’d completely forgotten to count! How mortifying, that he’d kept his wits while she’d lost all sense of time and place. Heat rushed to her face, but the tingling in her breasts and stomach barely abated.

Morgan’s eyes were dark, his pupils jet black as he stared down at her. For a second he looked as shaken as she felt, but then his usual urbane mask slipped down over his features. His mouth curved into that slightly amused expression she knew so well.

“Consider that your first kiss paid.”

It had been countless kisses, not just one. A conversation without words. A slow, wet slide toward delirium. But Harriet wasn’t about to point that out. She took a deep breath, drew herself up, and tried to pretend that the map of her world hadn’t just been redrawn. Expanded. With a whole new continent of sensation.

“I have to get back to the ball.” She was proud of the decisiveness in her voice. “Good night.”

Morgan took a step back, as if releasing her from his spell. “Two more kisses to go.”

As if she could forget.

Harriet turned on her heel and forced herself to walk, not run, out of the arbor.

She made it back to the house without encountering anyone and it was only as she went to pick up a fortifying glass of ratafia that she realized she was still clutching Morgan’s pocket watch in her hand. She opened her fist and stared down at it in wonder.

Her brain was churning. She wanted nothing more than to retreat to the quiet of her room so she could replay The Kiss in all its glory, but she forced herself to smile and mingle with the assorted guests instead.

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