Page 128 of Her Beast

He hadn’t kissed a lover since before the fire; who the hell would want to get that close to his face, even masked?

But Julia hadn’t flinched or looked revolted when he’d held her chin and forced her to look at him. Instead, she’d leaned closer, her pupils swelling obscenely large as she parted her petal-soft lips.

The yearning look had been a sledgehammer to his self-control.

Malcolm groaned as he kissed her. Christ! She was sweet—like some mythical nectar of the gods—her mouth so soft and hot.

And she knew how to kiss, opening to him like a blooming flower, tilting her head to take his tongue deeper without any urging from him.

Malcolm shuddered when the tip of her tongue darted into his mouth. He closed his lips around the sleek organ, trapping it and gently sucking.

She gave a surprised, breathy laugh and then fucked into his mouth, delving into him with greedy, deep strokes—caressing his teeth, gums, and the ridged architecture of his palate.

Bloody hell!

Malcolm reluctantly released her, allowing her to come up for air. He stroked the sensual curve of her jaw as he trailed kisses over her whisper soft skin, wishing like hell that he could feel the satiny texture with his fingers.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

Malcolm blinked, momentarily disarmed by the question—the sort only young and fearless lovers would ask.

When he didn’t immediately answer, she filled the awkward silence. “It’s just… well, I know so little about you while you know everything about me. And you obviously know so many other—”

“Other?” he prodded, caressing the fine down on her jaw with his lips, inhaling her intoxicating scent.

“Things.”

“What sort of things?”

She growled, sounding like an angry kitten. “You want to make me say it out loud, don’t you?”

Malcolm smiled. “Yes.”

And then he kissed her scandalized frown.

Julia opened to him immediately, just like she’d done before. This time, Malcolm explored her, giving himself over to his hungry desire and penetrating her deeply and thoroughly, devouring her.

“Mmm,” she hummed against him, but then abruptly pulled away, her silky eyebrows drawn down. “Stop distracting me and just tell me.”

“Tell you what?” he asked, his wits no longer under his control.

“You’ve known a l-lot of women?”

He frowned at the odd question. “I don’t think you really want to know about that.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

Malcolm sighed. “I’m forty-three years old, Julia—more than twice your age. I’ve lived two lives to your one, so of course I’ve known a lot of women.” Not to mention quite a few men, but he kept that to himself.

She looked so goddamned stricken that he quickly added. “But none like you.” It was the truth.

“You mean young and ignorant?”

He gave a bark of laughter. Partly, he meant that. He’d never been with a twenty-year-old when he’dbeentwenty, but it would be cruel to tell her that.

“No, I meant perfect,” he said—again, it wasn’t a lie.

Julia rolled her gorgeous eyes at him, but Malcolm saw something other than exasperated amusement; he saw worry. About him? About what they were about to do?

---