Page 33 of The Pleasures of Passion
“I can’t believe I forgot this,” he murmured against her lips. He settled her more firmly on his lap. “Do you feel what you do to me, sweeting?”
Oh yes. The bulge in his trousers made that perfectly clear. “Yes. But we can’t. . . . I won’t. . . .”
He took her mouth again like the ravisher he was. Only he didn’t stop there this time. He covered one of her breasts with his hand, kneading and tempting and provoking her to madness.
And it felt sogood, drat him. It had been over a year since she’d been touched by a man; she’d forgotten how exquisite it could feel. Especially when the man touching her had once held her heart—
No! She mustn’t let him do this to her again!
Wriggling out of his arms, she threw herself onto the other seat and fought to catch her breath.
“Bree . . .” he said in a low voice, leaning forward as if to reach for her again.
“Stop that!” She slid as far from him as the seat would allow. “You . . . you said you wouldn’t try to take advantage of the situation.” Oh, how she wished she didn’t sound so desperate. “You promised!”
“I didn’t promise any such thing,” he ground out.
To be fair, that was true. Wrapping her arms about her waist, she drew into herself. “Not precisely that, but you said you wouldn’t ‘behave lecherously.’ ”
Anger flared in his face. “And that’s how you saw what we just did. As a sordid attempt to ‘lure’ you into my bed.”
She thrust up her chin. “Wasn’t it?”
“If it was, then you weren’t exactly opposed to it.” He leveled a hard gaze on her. “It seemed to me that you were as eager for me just now as I was for you.”
“You started it, though,” she said inanely. Lord, she sounded like a child.
“And you continued it.” A mocking smile crossed his lips. “You’re a widow, Bree. You can do as you please, you know. Plenty of widows take lovers. If you want me—”
“I don’t.”
His eyes glittered at her. “You gave a very convincing performance otherwise, sweeting.”
Well, she could hardly deny that. “I was . . . swept up in the moment. It’s been some time since I . . .” When his smile broadened, she gritted her teeth. “It doesn’t matter why I gave in. Temporarily. It won’t happen again. It mustn’t.”
“I would dearly like to know why not,” he drawled, laying his arm on the back of the seat with that supreme self-assurance she remembered so well.
She’d been captivated by it once. She wouldn’t make that mistake twice. “Because I’m not fool enough to fall for your attentions again.”
His gaze darkened. “You can tell yourself that all you like. But Fulkham wasn’t lying when he said that ‘the air fairly thrums’ between us. Still, after all these years. And that kind of feeling doesn’t just disappear because you think it foolish.”
How she wanted him to be wrong. But the idea of taking him as a lover tantalized her.
Or it would have, if she hadn’t known how it would eventually end, both in bed and out. The actual lovemaking always proved disappointing. “It doesn’t matter what I feel. My plans for the future do not include you.”
“Nor do mine include you,” he said bluntly. Then he raked her with a hot glance that touched her mouth, her breasts . . . and lower, before meeting her eyes again. “That doesn’t mean we can’t thoroughly enjoy our situation while it lasts. We’re both free to do that at present.”
“You’refree,” she snapped. “Men always are. But I have a son and a reputation to uphold, for his sake as well as my own. And if you should happen to get me with child—”
He shrugged. “There are ways to avoid that.”
“With which you’re thoroughly familiar, I’m sure.”
She’d expected her snippy remark to insult him. Instead, it only seemed to amuse him. “All I’m saying—”
“I know what you’re saying, but—” The carriage shuddered to a halt, and she could have wept with relief. “We’re here.”
He glanced out, his lips tightening into a thin line. “So we are.”
