Page 50 of The Art of Sinning
She clutched at his head to steady herself and he pulled her down astride his knee. Then he was kissing her with a carnal intensity that had her writhing upon his hard thigh.
Ohhhh. That felt astonishing, both too much and too little. One of his arms came around her waist to lock her close, and she looped hers about his shoulders to lock her even closer. He kept stroking her breast, silkily, sweetly, and she rocked against his leg. She wanted to fuse herself to him, to wring out every ounce of the aching pleasure.
“Ah, my pretty wanton, you inflame me,” he breathed against her lips. “I could taste and touch you for hours. You’re so damned lovely.”
Shewantedhim to taste and touch her for hours, so badly that she didn’t even care he’d called her “wanton.”
Then she felt the dampness lower down and a tight little knot burning between her thighs, and panic startled to life in her. This was how seduction began. A woman fell in love with the feelings and forgot herself. It was dangerous, close to the edge... alarming.
She must stop this. Soon. Now. Before she found herself ruined.
Twelve
Jeremy had lost his wits, but he didn’t care. Yvette was more sensual than he’d ever imagined. How could he stop caressing her soft breasts, kissing her soft mouth... wanting to bury himself between her soft thighs?
He ought to stop, yet he didn’t.
She was his, damn it!HisJuno, every lush inch of her, shining with vitality and humor and an unquenchable thirst for life. Her sweet warmth and dewy curls invited him in, and it took all his will not to jerk down his trousers and breach her. Even as he clasped her head to hold her still for his deepening kisses, he felt the pulse in her neck thrum hard against his hand.
Why did she do this to him? Women never had this powerful an effect on him. They never made him yearn for the impossible, want a life beyond what he could give. What he dared not give.
It was alarming how badly he wanted to keep her. He wanted to paint her a thousand times in a thousand ways, so he’d have her image to console him once he let her go.
As he must. As he would. In a moment or two.
But God, he didn’twantto let her go. Not that he had a choice; he could already feel her slipping away. Her fingers were dragging on his shirt and her body stiffening.
She tugged her mouth free to stare at him with wild eyes. “I cannot,” she said bluntly. “Not like this.”
Disappointment slammed through him. For the briefest of moments he considered pressing the issue. If ever a woman was on the verge of seduction, it was Yvette. She wanted him. He wanted her. What else mattered?
You won’t marry her. That’s what matters.
“Damn it all to hell,” he growled, scarcely realizing he’d said it aloud until she flinched. “I’m sorry. I told you I would taste and hold and caress you as much or as little as you would allow, and I meant it.”
He should slide her off his knee, but he couldn’t. Not yet. He bent his forehead to hers. “I just wish I were as much a rogue as you like to think. Because Ireallywant to lay you down on this floor and have my way with you until the sun comes up.”
“And then what?”
The words jerked him up short, and he moved back. “Exactly.”
The look of hurt in her eyes made it easy this time to extricate himself from her body and set her on her knees beside him. But it didn’t make it easy to extricate himself from the situation.
God rot it.
He rose to pace the room, hoping the movement might subdue his rampant arousal, trying not to notice how erotic a figure she made as she remained kneeling on the floor while fastening up her buttons.
A foolish part of him whispered,What if you were to offer marriage? Then you could have her to your heart’s content.
He fisted his hands at his sides. Yes, he could have her... until things went wrong. Until she realized he couldn’t be the right sort of man for her. Couldn’t love her as she deserved to be loved, couldn’t give her a settled, normal life. Didn’twantto give her a normal life.
Desire wasn’t enough to make a solid marriage. Hannah had been fool enough to risk it with him anyway, but all she’d gotten for her trouble was an early death.
Guilt stung him, as always. With a scowl he strode to the easel. He wouldn’t put another woman through that. Especially not one as tenderhearted as Yvette, who deserved better than an inadequate husband. Despite her prickly outside, shewastenderhearted. He’d figured that much out, at least.
“I can’t stay,” she said behind him.
With his back to her, he nodded. If he looked at her, he was liable to make the mistake of pulling her into his arms again. And if he did that a second time, he feared he wouldn’t stop.
