Page 26 of If the Slipper Fits
He responded to her invitation, sliding the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips ’til her mouth opened slightly, and his hot tongue dipped inside to feather over hers.
Her own soft mew sounded. Swift embarrassment had her pulling back.
Emitting a low growl, Caden held her fast, one arm banding around her waist. His mouth turned demanding, voracious.
Nothing had ever felt so right as the delicious friction of his lips on hers, of the hard planes of his body against hers.
Her fingers threaded into the silky golden hair brushing his collar making her wish with all her might she had removed her gloves as he had.
He shivered under her touch. “Anna, my God, Anna,” he whispered against her mouth, before sealing his hot, damp lips over hers once more.
A low pounding sounded in her ears. Her heart beat, growing louder with each passing second. Slowly, the truth permeated her kiss-drugged mind. Not her heart. Horse hoofs thumped in the not-too-far distance.
Reality flashed through her. What in blazes was she doing? She jerked away from him with the force of an ax-split log.
“Wh-what…Anna?” Caden’s chest heaved as he sucked in air. He stared at her, looking so charmingly befuddled she would have laughed under different circumstances.
After a moment of awkward silence, he gave a shaky laugh. “I wasn’t planning to take you on the forest floor, if that’s what you were thinking.”
She gaped at him. “I beg your pardon, Ca-Mr. Thurgood? There are people nearby.”
“And? Thisisa house party. I doubt any passers-by would have stopped to chat.”
She blinked. “Why do people keep saying that?”
He scowled. “People? Who else said that to you?”
“I think the more pertinent question, sir, is what sort of woman do you take me for?”
His expression turned wary and he tunneled his fingers through his hair. “I never would have started the business except…you are a widow, are you not?”
The way his eyes narrowed on her face, he actually meant the question.
“Of course,” she replied, with a bit too much vehemence.
He nodded once. “As such, no one expects you to play the virginal debutante. Not at a house party at any rate. Still.” His expression turned contrite. “You have no reason to believe me, Mrs. Anna Jones, but you make me forget myself.”
The huskily spoken words reached inside her, spurring her to confess he had the very same affect on her. But that much was obvious. She’d put up no resistance whatsoever, indeed, had in fact, welcomed his heated kisses.
“I rather thought you wanted me to kiss you. Was I wrong?” he asked, echoing her thoughts.
She could not deny the truth. She shook her head.
One corner of his mouth crooked upward, giving her a glimpse of straight white teeth. “I’d begun to think I’d picked up a foul odor or grown another nose or something the way you avoid me.”
She had attempted to do just that, albeit without much success.
He barked out a laugh. “Mrs. Jones, may I make a suggestion?” Not waiting for her an answer, he grasped her hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm. “Never take up gambling.”
“My father may have told me that once or twice.”
“A wise man,” he muttered, leading her back to the gravel path from which they’d strayed before speaking again. “Anna—Mrs. Jones—Perhaps I should apologize, tell you I regret what happened. But I can’t. Not without lying. I haven’t many hard-fast rules, but I do have one against telling falsehoods.”
“No apology necessary. There were two of us involved in—” she cleared her throat “—what happened.” Her voice sounded decidedly husky to her own ears.
Evidently, he noticed. He drew to a halt, shifted to face her. “Careful. I may start thinking you want me to kiss you again.” Twin blue flames lit his eyes.
She did want him to kiss her again. But she’d forgotten her tenuous circumstance twice now since arriving to this blasted party—both times thanks to Caden. Regardless of whether or not she, a lady’s companion and widow, could be forgiven a house party dalliance, she did not need to lose her head over the man.
