Her Christmas Earl

She pulled away a fraction to catch her breath. Her heart pounded a wild tarantella. And when he drew her back to him, her sigh sounded like yes.

Erskine kissed her again and again. Surprise lurked beneath her sensual delight. This rake’s kisses were almost innocent. And astonishing. Prescott had grabbed her arms, holding her still as he thrust a slimy tongue into her mouth. It had been like eating a slug. Erskine’s tongue touched her lips, tasting her delicately, never encroaching inside, although some wicked impulse inside her wished he would push further.

His kisses made her think of butterflies or feathers or silk. Nothing slug-like at all.

At first she appreciated his endless patience, but after an eternity of teasing, urgency subsumed uncertainty. Reaction settled hot and heavy and disturbing in the base of her belly. She longed for more. Although despite Prescott’s clumsy efforts, she had no idea what “more” entailed.

Then Erskine began to kiss her face. Soft, quick kisses to brow and nose and chin. Across her cheeks. To the corners of her lips. More feathers and silk.

Instinctively she licked her lips as he moved on to trace the line of her cheekbones. Tasting him was astonishingly powerful, as though his essence seeped into her blood. She identified the flavors of wine and man and something that she guessed was desire.

Did Lord Erskine desire her?

Once the idea would have appalled her. Once she’d never have credited it was possible. Right

now, trembling under a volley of sweet kisses, Philippa wondered if perhaps he did. It made no sense, but since she’d entered this dark cave of a room, the real world had lost its sway over her.

Still he tormented her. A dissatisfied sound welled up from her throat. Philippa wasn’t stupid enough to yield more than kisses, and asking for more risked ruin indeed. But his touch made her restless and yearning. Her skin felt hot and tight and her heart crashed over and over against her ribs.

His tantalizing seduction drove her mad, changed her into someone she didn’t recognize. This panting girl who welcomed his touch was no longer purposeful, practical Philippa Sanders.

Another incoherent protest emerged. She parted her lips to drag in a shaky breath, and this time his mouth opened over hers. How did he know exactly where to place his lips when she couldn’t see two inches in front of her face? The room was darker than a cellar in Hades.

He groaned into her mouth and for the first time, she tasted him properly. His rich flavor overwhelmed her. Without thinking where this might lead, her tongue fluttered against his lips, seeking a response.

He groaned again, a sound of longing deep in his throat. At last his arms lashed around her. She’d reached a stage of need where she wanted him to batter down her resistance, overcome her doubts, kiss her until all she knew was pleasure. The pleasure that still hovered out of reach, no matter how she enjoyed this dance of playful kisses, of advance and retreat, of pausing for permission then relenting just as she reached the point of protest.

His mouth remained light on hers, although she felt the tension in his arms as he resisted the urge to tug her closer. How did she know this? Pure instinct. She was woefully inexperienced with a man. She was playing out of her class with a man of the world like Lord Erskine. Which didn’t mean she meant to stop the game.

This time with intent, her tongue darted forward to touch his. Heat shuddered through her, sparking a fusillade of unfamiliar sensations. She shifted to relieve the building pressure between her legs.

She might be innocent, but she wasn’t stupid. Her body prepared itself for his. She’d grown up in the country. The mechanics of the sexual act were no mystery. But mechanics had no connection with the unprecedented responses rushing through her, softening her muscles, making her blood throb with need, weighting her breasts and belly with desire.

Heaven help her, he didn’t need to drag her into his arms. The devilish purpose of that long, careful seduction now became clear. Philippa couldn’t bear to be separated from him by even as much as an inch. She was the one who wantonly pressed forward.

He was irresistible, so warm, so big, so powerful. When her body slid against his, she felt the immediate change in him. His kiss shifted from exploration to unalloyed possession. She should be terrified, but instead she felt desired. His tongue plunged between her lips, claiming her. His arms twined around her, so that she couldn’t have escaped even if she’d wanted to.

He swung her until she sprawled across his lap, her face tilted toward his, her breasts crushed against his bare chest under the coat. What had begun like a game became as serious as life and death. She felt dizzy with lack of air and the storm in her blood. The heaviness between her legs made her wriggle. If she’d ever doubted his interest, her position now left her in no doubt.

That was astonishing enough. What was even more astonishing was that she wanted him, too. She’d never experienced desire. She’d had no idea how it overwhelmed every consideration but physical need.

She moaned consent against his lips. She was too far gone for fear. There was only need and hunger and his wild, wild kisses.

He tensed against her, but she gripped his shoulders. All that mattered was that he shared more of those shattering sensations. Then through the pounding in her ears, she heard the rattle of the lock. Before she could break away from Lord Erskine, someone flung open the door.

Keeping her in his lap, Lord Erskine twisted around at the interruption. In the glare of what felt like a hundred candles, Philippa blinked owlishly.

Then horrified shrieks split the night.

Chapter Four

Damn, damn, damn.

Erskine fought the urge to punch the wall, even if this whole bloody mess was his fault. He’d locked them in the dressing room. Then he hadn’t had the sense to keep his hands to himself. Now here he was on the floor with an innocent girl in his arms, and the game was well and truly up.

But Philippa Sanders had been so sweet, so near, so utterly irresistible. The temptation had been overwhelming.

Which was no excuse for mauling her. And now exposing her to full-scale scandal.