Page 107 of Three Weeks with a Princess
She felt a tear slip down her cheek. “Must we?”
“I’m afraid so,” he said, not sounding the least bit regretful. He reached around and pulled her sleeves down her arms, enveloping her in his warmth. Lia had to fight the urge to lean against his broad chest, seeking refuge.
“What’s two?” she whispered, as he pulled the dress down to her hips. He urged her up a bit and whisked it from under her. She shivered slightly, more from nerves than from the air hitting her exposed skin.
“Hmm?” he asked as he rolled up the garment and placed it on the floor.
“You already told me number one. What’s number two?”
He turned her to face him, his big hands curling around her shoulders. She looked up into his beloved, handsome face. His expression was both amused and tender and she wanted him so much that her entire soul ached with yearning.
“Ah. Number two is that I’m definitely going to undress you in the drawing room. You needn’t worry, love. No one will interrupt us.”
“It’s not that,” she said miserably. “I just don’t think—”
“Why are you crying, sweet girl?” he murmured, tracing a gentle finger across her damp cheek. “I’ve told you everything will be fine.”
She shrugged. The fact that she truly didn’t know Jack’s mind made her feel both self-conscious and vulnerable. After all, it wasn’t as if he’d laid his heart at her feet or made ardent declarations. Mostly, he delivered well-meaning but irritating lectures, which he seemed to think was enough to settle matters between them.
It wasn’t.
“I don’t know,” she hedged. “I suppose I’m just tired.”
He smoothed a hand down her neck and let it rest across the top of her chest, solid and comforting. “And perhaps a bit worried?”
She managed a choking sort of laugh. “A bit? Everything’s an absolute fright and you know it.”
His slow smile tilted up a corner of his mouth. “Shall I kiss it and make it all better?”
Lia rubbed her cheek as another tear fell. “You can’t. It’s simply not possible.”
“That sounds like a challenge to me, and you know I can never refuse a challenge.”
“Jack—”
He swooped down, his mouth devouring the protests that had been about to fall from her lips. She clutched at his shoulders as he took her with a passion she could no longer resist. Her eyes fluttered shut and she sank into the heat and strength of his embrace. It was like coming home after a very long time away and her heart longed to surrender.
Jack explored her mouth with a thoroughness that pulled a whimper from deep in her throat. Desire swept aside every argument, every fear, every barrier she’d erected against him. When he sucked her tongue into his mouth, she finally succumbed, ravished by the wet, delicious slide. It was a dominating kiss, one that said he would take what he wanted, when he wanted—and damn anyone who stood in his way.
But when one of his hands slipped down to her breast, a wisp of sanity penetrated her dazed brain. Her eyes popped open and she jerked back.
Jack’s gaze displayed equal parts heat and irritation. “What’s wrong now?” His husky growl was laced with masculine ire.
If she weren’t feeling breathless, Lia might have laughed at his surly response. As it was, his low, rasping tone sent a dart of sensation between her thighs.
“I . . . I don’t think you’ve thought this through, Jack.”
He snorted and went to work on her stays. “Lia, I’ve been thinking of little else since that day you kissed me in Stonefell’s library.”
When she tried to bat his hands away, he ignored her ineffectual efforts. “Jack Easton, you cannot make love to me in the drawing room.”
“Why not?” he asked as he deftly unlaced her.
“Because . . . because it’s reckless and scandalous and . . . and completely inappropriate for a man of your position.”
He regarded her with disbelief. “Says the woman who was sauntering about at a Cyprians’ ball.”
“I wasnotsauntering about,” she said as she fumbled to hold up her sagging stays.
