Page 18 of The Dangerous Love of a Rogue
A few of her ebony curls had fallen from their pins to lick her jaw and throat. He’d like to place his lips there.
‘What do you mean bythis?’
He’d confused her. Hell, he was confused himself. His mind had become a clutter.
Her hands folded together before her waist.
She was anxious. She should be. He was too. The emotions inside him were an eclectic surprise. Hope. Desire. Need. Admiration. Desperation. Respect. Pride. Until today, he had never admired, respected or felt proud of a woman he intended to share a bed with.
‘This. I mean, you being here. Is this your answer?’ He stepped from the bottom step and stood in front of her, aware his voice sounded too stiff. But it was due to the bewildering turmoil of emotions. He was on unfamiliar ground; he did not know how to speak with a respectable, innocent woman.
‘I do not really know why I am here,’ she said.
Damn it, he needed to forget his anxiety, forget his own fears. He did know how to woo women.
‘Because you want to be with me.’ He stepped closer.
‘I missed you,’ she admitted.
When he lifted a hand, though, she instinctively stepped back.
He smiled. His fingertips brushed her cheek, moving an unruly curl away from her jaw. ‘Do you want a kiss?’ He needed to persuade her to stay and not run again, he needed to persuade her to stay forever and become his wife. The only way he knew how was through sex. He needed her to let him come close.
* * *
Yes, she had come for a kiss.She had been pulled to him, like a compass needle to true north. He might as well have an invisible thread wrapped about her.
Her heart had leapt with excitement when she’d seen him at the top of the stairs. Then he’d signalled to her during supper, and a desperate quivery feeling had tumbled through her stomach.Yes, I long to be kissed.
Lord Framlington pulled that invisible thread as his fingers trailed across her jaw. Then his thumb brushed over her lips and she looked into his eyes, though she could barely see him in the darkness beyond a silhouette. The smell of tobacco carried on his breath.
This is madness. Why did I come?‘Not here,’ she said as his lips neared hers. ‘Someone might see us.’
She could not see his lips curve into a smile and yet she sensed they did. His fingers opened, and cradled the side of her face as his other hand held her waist. He stepped forward so she had to step back. In a trance she let him back her into the darkness, into the corner where the wall of the house turned. They were deep in the shadows, she could not see him at all, but she could feel his tall frame against her, his strong hand at her waist as his other slid to her nape and drew her mouth to his.
Oh, heavens.Her innards rolled topsy-turvy.
His lips pressed firmly, then touched softly, coaxing her to kiss him back with similar variation. Her arms lifted and settled on his shoulders as she gave herself up to kissing him back. The sensations inside spiralled, swirling down to the point between her legs. It was delicious and wicked, and utterly stupid. But she didn’t care, she didn’t want to be sensible any more. A growling sound escaped from his throat and entered her mouth as his hand slid to her lower back and pulled her firmly against his body. She fitted perfectly, her hip bones pressing to his, her breasts crushed against his chest.
His tongue slid through her parted lips, tentatively, then deeply, then it withdrew again. The tip of her tongue reached to touch his.
She wanted this with a bone-deep longing. His kiss dissolved her. She lifted her hand and ran her fingers through his hair. He pressed her further back, the wall grazed her right shoulder. She hoped it had not torn her dress.
His palms cupped her bottom and pulled her hips more snugly against his. A hard ridge in his trousers pressed against her abdomen. It ought to scare her; it did not. His embrace stayed tender and gentle.
‘God, Mary, you are beautiful,’ he whispered into her mouth. ‘More than I imagined.’
His hand ran over her hip, her waist, up to her ribs where his thumb brushed the lower curve of her bosom.
‘Mary,’ he said her name with a dizzying awe. Then his lips left her mouth. He kissed her jaw and her neck, while his palm settled over her breast, kneading her flesh through her gown.
His teeth nipped her neck. His hand left her breast, slid down and touched between her legs. He stroked inwards over the material of her gown, pressing the warm, moist flesh at the juncture of her thighs, where she craved him. She knew men and women joined there.
She should tell him to stop, but wrapped in the darkness, hidden from view, the danger had become exhilarating.
The strokes were tender, careful, like the touch of his teeth and lips on her neck.
The desire inside her climbed, as if her body were racing towards a peak. Her breath quickened and a sob escaped from her lips. Delicious sensations wove a spell in her blood, then… she flew on a firecracker.
