Page 72 of Tempting the Highland Spy
“I can think of a far better use of our time,” he whispered against her mouth.
“Can you now?” Challenge flashed in her gaze, and she drew her fingertips over the angle of his jaw.
“Definitely.” He held himself still, drinking in the look in her eyes like a man stranded in the Sahara would indulge on the contents of a miraculously found canteen. “A gentleman would conduct himself with restraint.”
“Indeed,” she said softly, her voice infused with a husky tone that stirred his desire. “Personally, I’ve always thought a gentleman should use restraint only when the lady in question wished him to do so.”
“And the lady in question—does she wish me to use restraint?”
She appeared to ponder his question, torturing him with each passing heartbeat. “That depends, I suppose.”
He hiked a brow. “You suppose?”
She smiled, soft and teasing. “If by restraint, you mean you will not carry me off to do despicable things like Bluebeard did to his wives, then,yes, I would appreciate restraint.”
His other brow shot up. “Bluebeard? I can’t say I’ve ever aspired to recreate that tale.”
Her eyes flashed with gentle challenge. “On the other hand, if you are implying you will not kiss me…or touch me…in that case, I would rather you didnotexercise restraint.”
Did he have any idea how tempting she was when she played the minx? “Ah, I did mean the latter.”
Her fingers threaded through his hair, grazing his scalp. “I suspected as much.”
“In that case…” He dipped his head and claimed her sweet mouth.
Gently, slowly, he kissed her. Exploring the taste of her. The feel of her. The sound of her soft murmurs of pleasure, urging him on as his tongue slid between her parted lips.
God above, what sweet plunder. If he’d been a pirate of old, he would’ve hauled her off to his ship, sailed far away, and given thanks for the treasure he’d stumbled upon.
She smelled of lilies, a delicate scent, and she tasted of champagne and woman. Her arms curved around his back, bringing him closer. Pressed to him, she was warm and giving, canting her hips, cradling his arousal against her body. She tilted her hips a bit more, tempting him to the brink of control.
He grazed his hands over the flare of her hips, crumpling the delicate fabric of her gown between his fingers. The need to hold her—to adore her—crashed into him.
She deserves better than this—she deserves better than stolen kisses and caresses.
She deserves more…
The words plagued him, even as he cupped her bottom and held her so close, only their clothing separated their flesh. His cock throbbed with primal need. Much more of this, and he’d peel her gown from her body right there. Right then. So close to the ballroom the strains of a vigorous polka drifted to his ears.
Her fingers curved over his shoulders, holding him possessively, her nails lightly grazing him through the layers of clothing. She was temptation personified. He wanted her. The hunger went bone deep.
His need for her thundered over him, undeniable as the pull of a storm-tossed wave against the Aberdeen coast. Carrying him out to sea, to a point of no return.
What he wouldn’t give to feel her touch against his skin…again.
His good sense tried to take the reins. He put a fraction of an inch between their bodies.
“Don’t stop,” she murmured.
He drank in the taste of her mouth as he kissed her again. If she were wine, he would be a drunkard. My God, could he ever get enough?
Suddenly, awareness overtook him. The strains of music had quieted.
Had the orchestra stopped playing?
Blast it, what did it matter?
The squawk of the door hinges answered that question. Grace froze. And then she broke away.
