Page 25 of Her Sort of Scoundrel
“That we’re lovers,” she whispered, turning to make sure Miss Forbes and everyone else was far out of earshot.
“What if we were?” The palm that lay reassuringly against her back was replaced with his fingers, slowly tracing down her spine.
She knew she should give him a quick answer. An answer that confirmed the decision she’d come to—that this very question could never arise. That they had to put such nonsensical ideas aside.
Yet his question left her breathless, her whole body fixed on his breath against her cheek, the heat of him at her back.
Good heavens, she wanted him.
She turned her head, lifting her gaze to his for just a moment before staring at his lips.
“What would that do to your new reputation?”
He swallowed hard but offered no reply.
“Are those sorts of whispers what you want Miss Forbes to face before her debut?”
Fiona noted the moment he ground his teeth, the clean-shaven edge of his jaw sharpening when he did.
“What doyouwant?” he bit out on a husky whisper.
She blinked, completely unprepared for that reply. Though she did not know precisely how far his scrubbed-up persona extended—many menreformedby simply becoming more discreet about their peccadillos—she knew that protecting Miss Forbes would be paramount.
Whatdidshe want from this attraction between them that seemed ready to spark into flame the more time they spent in each other’s company?
“I want…” she started, afraid to let it out for fear she could never put the feelings back again.
“Tell me,” he urged, leaning so close that his lips skimmed her cheek.
Fiona turned just enough to look in his eyes, though her gaze kept flickering down to his lips. Suddenly, ridiculously, she needed to kiss him as much as she needed her next breath.
“I just want a taste of you,” she whispered, the rawest of confessions.
Molten shards of emerald sparked in his gaze, and he gripped her hip where it rested against the cushions, a hot, possessive hold.
“Fi…”
She leaned in and brushed her lips against his. Heard a rumble of need roll across his tongue and tasted him again, her tongue flicking out to trace across his lower lip.
“We should meet—” he rasped.
“Dash.” She reached up to clutch his lapel. “Don’t ask for something you’ll regret.”
He held his breath. She could sense the tension in his body just as surely as she felt it in her own. For a moment, she was sure he’d withdraw the invitation, come to his senses, and thereby force her to do the same.
Instead, he leaned in, drawing his lips along the shell of her ear.
“You did say I’m impulsive,” he whispered, his breath singeing her skin.
What he was asking was dangerous. For him because at any hint of scandal, he’d excoriate himself for bringing harm to Miss Forbes’s prospects.
But Fiona knew that a clandestine encounter with Dash posed a danger for her too. Not that she cared about maintaining some perfect facade of propriety. It was that she knew with Dash, a tryst could never be frivolous. Meaningless.
“You don’t want to risk any hint of scandal,” she reminded him.
With a blink of his eyes, he seemed to finally hear her. “No,” he said bitterly. “I don’t.” Then he glanced back, his eyes scanning the store counters for Miss Forbes.
“She’s there,” Fiona pointed out. The young lady was sniffing little strips of paper that a store clerk provided for customers to assess the various fragrances they offered.
