Page 26 of My Kind of Scoundel
The stab of failure cut deep.
The gentle touch of Mr Chance’s hand on her back preceded his thoughtful comment. “Things aren’t as bad as they seem. I could have the place straightened in no time.”
To prove the point, he retrieved two pairs of gloves, dusted them off and placed them neatly on the glass counter.
The man’s charm was impossible to ignore. Confidence oozed from every pore. Eleanor stole a glance at his muscular thighs as he crouched to complete the task. While the sight roused heat in her belly, the kind gesture made her heart race like a runaway carriage.
She bent down to help him.
Their fingers brushed as they reached for the same glove.
“You don’t need an excuse to touch me,” he said, a teasing twinkle in his eyes. “You don’t even need to ask.”
Like a moth to a flame, his allure was irresistible. “After our interlude at the theatre, why would I want to touch you again? You satisfied my curiosity.”
His smile turned sinful. “Did I? I don’t see how. The things a man can do with his hands are limitless.”
It took mental strength not to conjure an erotic image.
“Mr Franklin said a similar thing only last week.” The lie left her lips before she could reclaim it.
Being as sharp as a tack, he grinned. “You owe me a forfeit, Miss Darrow.” He looked at her lips, and she felt sure he would demand another kiss. “I believe I shall claim it now.”
“What do you want me to do, Mr Chance? Cluck like a chicken?” She wasn’t ready to kiss him again. Not when he weakened her defences.
“Where’s the pleasure in that?”
She swallowed hard. “What would give you pleasure?”
“Education is everything, is it not?” Still crouched, he flexed his fingers. “The touch of a man’s hand was the catalyst that brought down Troy.”
She suspected the feel of his hand would be her ruin, too.
“Let me begin with something simple to prove my point,” he said softly. “Let it be an exercise in the power of anticipation.”
He waited for her permission to begin.
“I’ll not stop until you demand it,” he warned her before caressing her cheek in slow, mesmerising circles.
The heat of his skin warmed her face and soothed her restless spirit. She closed her eyes briefly, finding solace inhis touch. Tenderness was a potent drug for a lonely heart. Everything about this man was addictive.
“Relax,” came his whispered command.
Her shoulders sagged as if willed by the gods.
“I’ve never seen lips so plump,” he said, an undeniable hunger in his gaze as he traced the shape with his thumb. He worked closer to the seam, seeking entrance. “I’ll never forget how soft they were. You’d drunk wine before coming to the theatre. That, or you always taste like dark berries.”
“You’ll never know.”
His languid smile stole her breath. “There’s always a way to achieve one’s goal,” he said, penetrating the seam where her mouth was moist. He wet his thumb before taking it in his own mouth and sucking hard. “Hmm. I feel a thorough inspection is needed. But not today.”
Her heart pounded now.
Perhaps he saw the rapid beat of her pulse in her throat. Perhaps he knew the muscles in her abdomen were tight. That heat pooled between her thighs.
Exploring further, he drew featherlight fingers down over her lips and chin, down the column of her throat.
The hairs on her nape prickled. Tingles ran down her spine. She thought of halting his in-depth study, but the thrill of anticipation left her eager to know what he planned to do next.
