Page 21 of Gentlemen Prefer Heiresses
They weren’t sparkling now, though. They were warming with pleasure as she stared into his eyes. He dropped his hand farther, stroked his thumb over her full, lower lip, felt the tiniest of quivers run through her. “Your smile is one of pure satisfaction.”
Her pink tongue darted out, dampened the pad of his thumb. His stomach tightened, his cock twitched. He touched the corner of her mouth and shoved out the next words. “And when you don’t get the card you need, you frown.” His voice sounded rough and raw. “You telegraph your pleasure or displeasure with the cards. You don’t want to give that information to your competitors.”
“What should I do?” she rasped.
Ask me to kiss you.“Keep your face still. Don’t smile. Don’t take delight in the cards.” He trailed his finger along her throat. So silky, so smooth. Down. Then up to where her pulse beat furiously. “Imagine me kissing you.”
“Would that not delight me?” Her voice was breathy, low, sensual. It fit the shadows, was suited to bed play. He wanted it near his ear as he rode her.
“It would, but thinking about it would serve as a distraction, would put distance between you and the cards.”
“Is that how you manage not to give anything away? By imagining kissing me?”
“Oh, I imagine a good deal more than that.”
She licked her lips. If Somerdale ever tasted them, he might have to plow his fist into the man’s face.
“Having never been kissed,” she rasped, “I can’t quite conjure what I should imagine. Perhaps you should demonstrate.”
How had he come to this moment of doing something he knew was totally and absolutely wrong? Not a single person sitting at the table in that private room would approve. His parents would disapprove mightily. Rex would not only take him to task, he was likely to bloody Andrew’s nose. Yet knowing it would be frowned upon, was forbidden, would identify him as a cad of the lowest order, he couldn’t find the will to resist.
Not when her eyes were searching his, not when her lips parted slightly, not when she lifted her mouth as an offering, a sacrifice, a surrendering.
He glanced down the hallway. Empty. He guided her farther into the shadows, cradled the underside of her jaw, felt the pulse at her throat thundering against his fingertips. Certain he could school her in the art of a kiss without involving anything more than his mouth, he lowered it to hers.
The plumpness of her lips welcomed him like the softest of pillows; the warmth hit him like the sun on a summer afternoon when he was stretched out over a bed of clover. Her hushed sigh was the sweetest lullaby ever sung.
Without prompting she opened her mouth to him and he was lost, lost to the glorious taste and heat of her, the velvet and silk of her tongue gliding over his. One of her hands folded around his upper arm, the other clasped the back of his neck, her fingers scraping up into his hair. He snaked his free arm around her back, crushed her to him.
God help him. Kissing her was more marvelous than he’d imagined. Every breath he took only served to bring a deeper awareness of her violet fragrance. With each sweep of his tongue, he tasted brandy darkened by her enjoyment of it. Her mouth was paradise and decadence.
And not enough. Not nearly enough.
He wanted to peel off the layers of her clothes and feast on her flesh, raining kisses over every inch, circling his tongue around her nipples—would they be pink or dark, small or large? He wanted to draw the tiny buds into his mouth and suckle until she was writhing against him, wrapping her legs tightly around his hips and holding on for dear life.
He wanted everything he could not have, should not have, would not have.
A kiss, this moment, was all the indulgence he could spare. She was not the sort with whom a man toyed. She was the type a man married. She was an incredibly wealthy heiress who could have her pick of men: titled lords, princes, and kings. Not second sons, notspareswho were expected to never amount to anything of importance.
He drew back. She blinked as though awakening from a dream, her eyes glazed over. Touching his thumb to her damp and swollen lips, he wanted to taste them again, wanted to take her someplace where he could taste them more thoroughly.
“We’ve been gone too long.” His voice sounded as though he’d been a month without drink.
She merely nodded.
“Are you all right?” he asked quietly.
Again a nod. “It was more involved than I expected it to be.”
“Not nearly as involved as it could have been. Think about that. Let it distract you so you don’t show any emotion whatsoever at the cards you’re dealt.”
He escorted her back to the room. Everyone was standing around, drinking and talking. As he pulled out the chair for Gina, the others began taking their seats.
“You were gone a rather long time,” Grace said, with suspicion.
“If you must know, I was providing her with some tips. She’s giving too much away.”
“Oh.” She seemed surprised by his answer.
