Page 24 of The Secret Life of a Lady
That’s not true. The baron kissed me.
Hannah shoved the memory away. Nothing about that horrible night was similar to this moment with Lord Killian. She wouldn’t let the past poison her present.
She had never desired intimate contact before. Until now. Her mind burned with questions, and her gaze caught on his mouth as she contemplated what it might feel like to have his lips pressed against hers.
‘I should very much like to kiss you, Miss Simmons. I wonder if you would allow it or if your hand might find its way back to the pistol?’
Hannah licked her lips. Lord Killian pulled her closer, his chest pressed against hers. She moved her hand over his shoulder,feeling the contrast of his stiff collar and soft cravat before tangling her fingers in his thick curls.
‘Miss Simmons, you test the strength of a man’s resolve.’ His voice was a gravelled growl in the dark night. ‘May I?’
The request undid her. He didn’t take. He asked. And she didn’t want to refuse him. A thrill of anticipation tripped down her spine. Her skin tingled in the strangest places. The inside of her wrist, the back of her neck, the tips of her breasts.
She pulled his head closer. He seemed surprised she would take the lead. Killian resisted for a fraction before manoeuvring them both to a shadowed corner. In a shocking display of intimacy, he removed his gloves and shoved them in his pocket.
‘I want to feel you.’ His voice was raw. His words caused something within her to loosen and melt. He pressed her back against the balustrade, the cold stone creating a counterpoint to his heat. Bare fingers traced over her scar.
She wanted this. To know what it felt like. Just for a moment. To be lost in sensation.
Killian pressed his lips against hers. Firm and warm. He tasted of whiskey, mint, and something singular. The man himself. He pulled back for a moment, and she caught her breath. Rough fingers brushed against her skin, his thumb grazing her bottom lip.
‘Jesus, you are so sweet,’ he whispered.
His lips found hers once more. The shocking wetness of his tongue as he tested the seam of her mouth startled Hannah. Sparks cascaded along her overly heated skin. When he licked more insistently, she opened her mouth, and his tongue touched hers in a silken slide of sensation.
Shifting his body, he leaned harder into her. The friction of her corset against her breasts was a revelation. He pushed his muscled leg between hers, creating pressure at the juncture of herthighs. A sweet pulse emanated from her core. She moaned as his hands flexed around her waist.
And then he was gone, her skin suddenly abraded by cool breeze.
Hannah blinked twice before the haze cleared. Lord Killian stood a few feet away, breathing hard and running a shaky hand through his hair. ‘I apologise. That was badly done.’
Hannah laughed despite herself. ‘If that was badly done, I’m not sure I could survive having it done well.’
‘I promised I wouldn’t press my advantage.’ Killian jerked his gloves from his pocket and shoved his hands into the leather.
‘You didn’t.’ Hannah couldn’t explain the rush of frustration filling her, but it throbbed in her blood, creating a hollow ache low in her belly. She wanted to continue kissing him. But he had moved away from her like she was a flame, and he feared being burned. His rejection embarrassed her. Maybe she had done something wrong. Hannah hated being incompetent. Even in this.
She squared her shoulders. ‘You wanted to kiss me, and I wanted to be kissed. I find it hard to believe this is your first dalliance with a young lady. Are you always so quickly plagued with guilt?’ The sharpness in her tone cut through the crisp evening, but the wave of anger felt good, powerful. So much better than the echo of need pulsing through her veins.
Her ire sparked a twin fire in Killian. He closed the distance between them, slapping his palms against the stone railing on either side of her hips, pinning her. ‘Are you always so free with your favours? That was your first kiss, if my guess is correct. Wasted on a gentleman with no intentions of acting honourably.’
Hannah threw back her head and laughed, the caustic sound hurting her throat. ‘Yes, that was my first kiss.’ At least the first one intentionally given. ‘And pray tell, how can I be free with my favours if I’ve never shared them before?’ Hannah chose to focuson his irrational argument over her embarrassing confession. ‘But I suppose now I have kissed a man, I can continue sharing my favours with whomever I like, whenever I like. They are mine, after all.’
‘So, in one night, you would slip from an innocent to a lightskirt?’
She leaned nearer to him, narrowing her gaze, ready to attack. ‘I’ve never been innocent, just inexperienced. Men are so quick to paint women as whores. Yet we cannot earn the title without significant help from you. If you feel bad for kissing me, that is your problem, not mine. I won’t share your shame. I enjoyed it. If the fancy strikes, I may enjoy it again. Just not with you.’
‘I wasn’t calling you a whore.’
‘Lightskirt? Whore? Are they not the same?’
He exhaled, a gust of warm air caressing her cheek. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I only meant you shouldn’t waste yourself on someone like me. Of course, you are free to kiss whomever you choose.’
Hannah’s investigative instinct awakened, dulling her anger. ‘Someone like you? A duke? A hero? Why are my kisses wasted on you, Lieutenant General?’
‘I am no hero. My blood might once have been blue, but it runs black with the sins I’ve committed, Miss Simmons,’ he whispered, his lips almost touching hers. The buttery leather of his gloved fingers stroked her neck.
Only a wicked woman would be seduced by such words. Hannah felt herself falling into the midnight of his voice. He was a wizard, weaving a devilish spell of darkness and vulnerability.
