Page 63 of Untaming Lady Violet
Standing on tiptoe, she pressed her lips to his in graceful supplication. A gentle kiss that first trembled with shyness then blossomed with boldness. He allowed her to decide if the kiss should continue. Let her decide if her mouth would press harder to his and if her tongue would slip inside to stroke alongside his own.
When she did, Tristan could not contain the groan that shuddered through him.
Reaching behind him, he turned the doorknob, drawing Violet into his sanctuary of paints and canvases and illusions. The thought occurred he might never let her leave now that he had her in there once more.
She followed willingly, the pale green hue of her gown glowing in the dimness of the room. Falling back against the closed door, her arms wound around his neck, keeping their mouths linked.
Tristan knew a moment of such yearning for her that he felt shaky with it. It was useless ignoring its existence. He only hoped that gorging himself this one time would bring a lifetime of satisfaction and kill any future cravings.
Tearing his mouth away, he kissed the arc of Violet’s neck, savoring the flavor of her skin. The sweetness of her flesh was addictive. It was fortunate the room was dimly lit by a full moon shining just outside the huge windows. He did not want to stop devouring her long enough to even bother with lighting a lamp or candle.
But he could begin divesting them both of their clothes.
In quick fashion, Tristan stripped his gloves away. He followed that with a slow, methodical removal of Violet’s silk gloves, one digit at a time, pressing gentle kisses to each fingertip before delivering a quick nip from his teeth. And each time, she gasped with delight, her breathing growing faster.
Her eyes dilated with pleasure as the passionate assault continued, his lips landing where they willed on bare patches of her skin.
“I love your hair, kitten.” Shrugging out of his formal coat, he tossed it over a nearby chair holding three blank canvases. His fingers were suddenly clumsy on the heavy gold buttons of his waistcoat, but within moments, he was free of that, too. “It’s quite lovely. May I?”
At Violet’s nod, he slipped a few additional hairpins from the intricate hairdo, and it tumbled in an ember-sparked waterfall of deep red.
“So damned beautiful.” Tristan inhaled a shaky breath, meeting Violet’s stare with a chagrined smile. Lifting one of the auburn locks, he watched it curl around his hand and wrist. “I confess a weakness for the very sight of it. I wish to see it draped over your body. Feel its softness drifting over me.” His gaze grew darker, hungrier. “Most of all, I want it wrapped around my fist when I pull you to me for a kiss, so you cannot escape.”
“I’ve no wish to escape.” Violet shivered; her bottom lip caught between her teeth while fumbling at untying his cravat with little success. “I want all those things and more, Tristan.”
Brushing her hands aside, he quickly unknotted the length of silk around his neck.
When he paused, considering what might be done with that bit of cloth, Violet’s head tilted in curiosity.
“What is the matter?”
A wicked grin spread across Tristan’s face. “Something you are too innocent to understand and too untried to experience this first time, my darling.” He tossed the cravat to the floor. “Perhaps someday I will show you.”
There will never be a ‘someday’ for us.
He was reminded of his own vow that this couldneverhappen again. He knew his sudden frown made her nervous. She clasped her hands together but wouldn’t look away.
“Light a lamp, Tristan,” Violet requested in a soft voice. “Whatever happens here does not need to be hidden in the shadows. I’m neither afraid nor ashamed, and I… I wish very much to see you. All of you.”
Tristan responded with a fierce claiming of her mouth before he took her by the hand, leading her to an oversized settee situated in one corner of the room. It’d been placed there years ago for the purpose of grabbing a few moments of sleep while he furiously painted. Nowadays, it was mostly used as a holding spot for various canvases.
Pushing those to the floor, Tristan set Violet on the settee’s cushion then went about doing as she asked. As a golden glow flooded the room, he watched as she kicked off her heeled shoes. With a stocking-clad toe, she traced a swirling vine pattern woven into the rug.
With deliberate intent, he removed his own boots. Next came his shirt, the buttons surprisingly difficult to navigate with her eyes trained so intensely upon him. Pulling the tails from the waistband of his breeches, the shirt fluttered open, revealing the wide planes of his chest and a crisp scattering of dark hair.
Violet never looked away, her gaze locked on his lean, muscular form as he moved toward her. She rose gracefully when he reached for her hand.
“Spin around, darling,” he murmured. In the lamplight, it was easy to see the flush warming her ivory-hued skin. Dark eyelashes fluttered downward like silk fans, concealing the violet depths of her eyes, but she did as he asked, pirouetting without hesitation. He released her hand but not before noticing how it trembled the tiniest bit.
Her head bent forward, unconsciously making his task easier. Sweeping the fragrant locks of her hair aside, he slipped the gown’s buttons through their moorings. Inch by inch, the silky skin of her back was revealed, the tender nape of her neck begging to be kissed and explored.
Tristan could not withstand the invitation. As her dress pooled around her waist, exposing the intricate cage of an ivory brocade corset and silk ribbons, he pressed a kiss to the back of Violet’s neck.
Violet jolted forward, surprised by the heat of his mouth. A moan rose in her throat when Tristan simply wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her back into place against his body.
The dress was pushed down until it formed a colorful puddle on the floor. The corset ribbons were quickly loosened to the point the contraption simply slid away by force of gravity. All that remained now was Violet’s plain, white chemise and a set of bow-topped stockings.
Tracing the line between her ear and the top of her shoulder with a fiery trail of kisses, Tristan muttered his appreciation.
