Page 71 of Once More, My Darling Rogue
“It seems especially true of you.”
With his nearness, butterflies were fluttering madly in her chest. She feared as much as she anticipated that they were on the verge of doing something entirely inappropriate. But she didn’t want him to cease his attentions, to stop touching her.
“Where would you go?” she asked. “If money were no object and you could go anywhere?”
“I would remain right here.” He lowered his mouth to hers, his tongue teasing her lips to part, before thrusting deep and sure.
In the farthest recesses of her mind, she worked to decipher his words, wondering if theherehe referred to was his garden, London ... her. Her, she decided as the kiss became hungrier, all consuming. Something strong and potent existed between them. She might not remember it, but she knew it with certainty. He would no doubt claim that he had taken advantage again, but how could he deny them this when it seemed so right, when everything within her yearned to be nearer to him? He’d saved her, he’d saved Daisy. This gruff man who seemed irritated with her most of the time, who seemed so unwilling to share himself, was doing so now in a most intimate and thorough manner. She relished the barriers between them dissipating. Perhaps she had a bit of Marla’s romantic bent within her. Even though she knew no good would come of this. Their status was vastly different, an immeasurable chasm separating their places within Society. He had means, influence, and power. He ruled over a gentlemen’s club while she ruled over dust and cobwebs.
Yet he never made her feel less. He never made her feel beneath him, even though at that precise moment, he shifted his weight and she found herself quite literally beneath him. He managed to hold himself so he wasn’t crushing her. One hand cradled her cheek while the other skimmed along her side until it settled on her hip, strong fingers kneading. Clutching his shoulders, she wished he’d discarded the jacket and waistcoat earlier, would not have even minded if the shirt were gone. Would he consider her completely wanton if she began loosening his buttons?
She knew proper etiquette and comportment; she understood fully that her actions represented neither. But who was to care? She had no family, no stalwart friends to embarrass. Marla wouldn’t object. Phee thought if given the chance, Marla would change places with her in a heartbeat, although she had no plans to give Marla the opportunity.
She loved his throaty growls, the eagerness of his mouth. Her heart sped up, her body warmed. Twilight had given way to darkness that brought a cooling to the air that should have chilled her and had her wanting a wrap. Instead she was fevered, discovered she wore too many clothes. He made her long for things she instinctually knew no respectable woman would yearn for. Yet she didn’t seem to give a fig that her reputation was at risk.
She wanted him to know that she desired his kiss. She didn’t want him to apologize for it afterward. She wanted him as captivated by this vortex of madness as she was.
It was madness, total and complete madness. Drake knew it even as he seemed unable to stop himself from tasting her again and again. She intrigued and fascinated him, this woman who would go to the seaside if she could go anywhere. When she traveled to Paris simply to order her gowns. This woman who didn’t complain about her limited wardrobe, when he suspected in her other life she had dozens of dinner gowns, ball gowns, morning dresses, walking dresses, riding habits.
They’d shared a dinner on a blanket in an untended garden, yet contentment eased in around him as surreptitiously as night washed away day. She had shared her dreams, her aspirations, which were not at all what he would have expected of her. Marriage to a duke or a prince, queen of a realm. Not a spinster’s life tending broken animals.
She smiled and his gut tightened. She laughed and his chest grew taut. She sighed and something deep, feral, and possessive growled within him. He couldn’t explain any of his reactions, didn’t want to analyze them. She touched him in ways no other woman ever had. She made him yearn for things he’d thought beyond his grasp: wife, children, home.
He had no business kissing her, and yet he could no more deny himself this pleasure than he could cease to breathe. It didn’t help matters at all that she welcomed him with open arms and pliant mouth. This warm, willing creature beneath him was nothing at all like the frigid, stiff—
A hard nudge to his shoulder had him breaking off the kiss. Enough light remained that as he looked back he saw the silhouette of the blasted horse. It lowered its head and bumped his shoulder again. “See here!”
Giggling, actual giggling, wafted toward him, creating that tightness once again in his chest. Turning his attention to Phee, he was torn between amusement, frustration, and relief. The madness was abating, his senses were returning. Things never should have gone this far.
“Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. With her hand, she covered her mouth. “I know it’s not funny, but it is rather.”
“Don’t apologize. You saved her this afternoon, she saved you now.” He shoved himself to a sitting position and began putting the items back into the wicker basket.
“What do you mean by that?” Phee asked.
“I had no business kissing you.”
She pushed herself up. “So you keep saying. Are you married?”
“That’s a ridiculous question. If I were, my wife would be here.”
“Would she?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Am I married?”
“No.”
He could feel her gaze boring into him. Why were there so many dishes to be put away? Why was it taking forever to end this ghastly mistake? He should have never returned here with dinner. He should have stayed at the club.
“Is it because of the difference in our positions?” she asked quietly.
“Yes,” he answered succinctly. Tossing in the last of the items, he thought he heard a plate crack. Lovely.
“Our different places in Society matter to you,” she said.
“They matter to you.” Twisting around, he faced her. Feeling a need to lessen the tartness of his earlier response, he trailed his fingers over her cheek. “You’ll remember that someday.” He was quite sorry that she would.
