“No.” She twined her arms around his neck.
“I can see that.”
She gave a protesting wriggle and heard his breath catch. Her helplessness receded. He was hungry for her. More than hungry. He was famished.
“Why don’t you kiss me?”
He didn’t cooperate, blast him. “Patience.”
She slid one hand up his strong neck in a gesture even she recognized was a caress. She tugged sharply on a lock of hair. “Stop teasing me.”
Still he resisted. The laughter drained from his eyes, and he moved away slightly to study her. She was such a fool, but the distance between them felt like absence.
“Are you leaving me?” he asked in a raw voice.
“Yes.”
Immediately, she saw he didn’t believe her, although she spoke the truth. “Then I’d better kiss you before it’s too late.”
Her lips stretched in a triumphant smile. “My thoughts exactly.”
“Close your eyes.”
“Ashcroft,” she said warningly. “Charming as your conversation is, I’ve had a surfeit this evening.”
It wasn’t true. His words enchanted almost as effectively as his touch. But if he didn’t place that beguiling mouth on hers in the next second, she’d scream like a banshee.
“Close your eyes,” he said again and with such rich persuasion in his voice, she couldn’t help but obey.
Without her sight, she felt vulnerable. She expected him to continue teasing. He knew it drove her to the edge of madness, and he was in a mood to toy with her like a cat toyed with a sparrow.
She’d fluttered against his claws until exhausted. Now she waited in fatalistic stillness.
His hands glided up to her shoulders and tightened. His mouth opened over hers with unconcealed need. Her lips parted to give him access. He kissed her rapaciously.
For a few seconds, she was quiescent, then she kissed him back, stroking his tongue, returning for a longer foray. Tasting the deep, rich flavor of Ashcroft.
He was like manna. Would she starve without him?
He curled his arms around her waist, dragging her against his body. He was shaking, as much victim to this storm as she.
Soon, kissing wasn’t enough, although she continued to press her mouth to his in desperate craving. He pulled away, panting, and she opened dazed eyes.
He was pale and drawn, vibrating with urgency. Without releasing her, he swiftly glanced around the room.
“Ah,” he said in satisfaction.
The world rocked as he swung her around and lowered her onto the delicate pink sofa. She felt the thin padding beneath her back and against her side, then the impetuous weight of Ashcroft’s body.
He grunted against her lips, shifted, and tensed, bumping the back of the sofa. “Damn it, this couch is made for midgets.”
She laughed. Like the rest of the library, the sofa was constructed on the small side. Certainly far too small for what Lord Ashcroft had in mind.
“It doesn’t matter. You can’t make love to me here. Laura might come in.” She tried to squirm into a sitting position, but his body trapped her.
He wriggled to find a more comfortable place kneeling over her. Without success, she noticed with the beginnings of genuine amusement. The great lover’s sudden gaucheness touched her heart in a way his self-confidence couldn’t.
The best he could manage was resting on one knee between her and the back of the couch and supporting himself with his other leg on the floor. The position looked uncomfortable, unwieldy.