Page 17 of A Gentleman Never Surrenders
After breakfast, the hired cab was pulled around, their luggage loaded, and she and Owen were back in the cab together, riding along toward his home in complete silence. To pass the time, she read a book and thankfully was lost in the story until something tapped the book’s spine repeatedly. She lifted her head and saw Owen’s hand was inches away, fingers rapping lightly on her book’s cover. She shot him a mutinous glare.
“I like it when you wrinkle your nose. It’s rather adorable, you know.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I do not wrinkle my nose. Good heavens, a lady would never—”
“Spare me whatever ladies would never do. I have no interest in dying of tedium. Now, what is that you’re reading? You’ve been so engrossed in it we’re nearly home. About eight miles is all.”
Milly blinked and looked out at the late afternoon sun kissing the tops of the trees in the western sky.
“It’s been that long?” She started to close the book but Owen deftly snapped it out of her hands, reading the title.
“She by H. Rider Haggard.” He flipped through it, skimming a few pages. “What is it about?”
Milly would have ignored him, but she loved talking about literature. The few suitors in the past who had tried to talk to her had always discussed fashion and other nonsense, as though they didn’t believe she could converse on anything else. Books were the way to her heart, not clothes.
“Two Englishmen venture into Africa and stumble upon a lost kingdom. The queen, Ayesha, or She Who Must be Obeyed, takes a fancy to the younger of the two gentlemen.”
Owen chuckled. “She who must be obeyed? Now I understand your fascination. Women with the need to control and dominate men must stick together, eh?”
The comment was meant to be teasing she supposed, but it felt barbed, like the prickle of a cocklebur against her skin. He thought she wanted to control and dominate him? She didn’t; she merely wanted to assert control over her own life and not be the puppet of a man. Tears of anger and something else she didn’t want to admit to stung her eyes and she looked out the window away from him. She wanted to verbally lash out, but she didn’t wish to do it in front of the driver.
“It is no concern of mine if you fail to see the broader aspects of literature,” she replied icily. Then, mastering her face, she turned back to him and held out a gloved hand. “Please return my book to me.”
He held it out, but the moment she reached for it, he moved fast. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pinned her back against the seat.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Milly. Never think that my teasing is to that end. I can be a bloody fool when I’m not thinking clearly.” He was close enough that his warm breath fanned her cheeks and she had trouble focusing on anything but how soft his lips looked as he spoke. He was apologizing in his own way; she saw the regret in his eyes, only just tempering a heated passion she was beginning to recognize.
Her breath quickened as he reached up to brush the backs of his fingers against her cheek. The tenderness of it made her tremble in his arms. A cruel-hearted fortune hunter wouldn’t touch her like this, would show such a soft side. Realizing this made her shake even harder as her heart clenched and her body heated. His eyes were warm as they gazed upon her, and desire was there mixed with something else she was afraid to hope for. She had to speak, had to break this slowly building enchantment he was casting over her.
“You are a fool quite often,” she replied, but her tone was husky. When his gaze strayed to her lips, she knew he wanted to kiss her and she knew that she wanted that kiss, too.
“That I am.” He gave her time to fight him, to resist the inevitable kiss, but she didn’t.
Arching her back to get closer, she curled her fingers around the lapels of his coat, tugging him into her. The kiss this time felt different…She wanted it as much as he did, and she had been furious with him for being so thoughtless, for saying things without thinking. She nipped his lips and a throaty little growl escaped his mouth. The primal sound startled her, and she couldn’t escape him, not even if she wanted to.
The way he kissed was sinful, scandalous, as though he was determined to explore every inch of her mouth, to learn the way she tasted. Milly wanted to know the same about him and loved it when he opened his mouth, letting his tongue and hers flick and stroke against each other, but then it changed…He thrust his tongue repeatedly into her mouth, in a way that liquefied her entire body. A wave of heat rolled through, filling her mind with a strange fog. Her breasts felt heavy, and aching. She needed…A large hand covered her left breast, squeezing it.
“Where’s your corset?” His low chuckle teased her as he nibbled that special spot just below her ear.
“Couldn’t put it on without help.” How she was able to get those words out when he was caressing her erect nipple through the thin layers of her blouse and chemise, she would never know.
“Little minx, I like that about you.” He was teasing, but this time Milly refused to let it upset her. Maybe to him being a minx was a good thing? It did feel wonderful to let go and embrace this wildness that seemed to run through her like quicksilver. It took everything in her not to crawl into his lap and press every inch of herself against him. She’d never known she could be like this; she’d longed and dreamed she would be, with the right man, but she’d lost hope of that after her first London Season. Owen made her forget how she’d closed herself up to the world; he made her feel like a flower tasting the kiss of the sun for first time in centuries.
“God, I love how you taste,” he moaned against her lips.
She gripped his hair, loving that it was long enough to thread her fingers through and grasp.
“Do you always talk so much?” She nibbled his bottom lip, exploring its sensual shape with her tongue.
“Not if you want my mouth to do other things.” The sensual purr and everything his words could mean made her shiver. He lifted her legs into his lap, his free hand sliding up underneath her skirts and pausing at her upper thighs to play with the silk ribbons of her stockings. The teasing touches tore a hungry moan from her and she kissed him. Hard. A wetness pooled between her thighs and she shifted restlessly, trying to encourage him to move his hand higher.
A loud pop and a sudden jerk sent Milly and Owen flying forward. Owen threw out a hand, smacking it hard against the back of the front seat, his other hooked around her waist, keeping them both from getting injured by colliding with the seat in front of them.
“What the devil?” he growled. “Driver, what’s happened?”
Milly clung to Owen as she tried to clear the fog in her head and make sense of her position. On Owen’s lap, her skirts rucked up to her knees, her hair a messy tangle.
Good heavens…
