“No,” she answered, turning away from him. “Why would you think so?”
“Why? You looked as though you were in need of er…attention,” he said softly. “Indeed, you seemed to be reaching for it.”
She felt the vibes in the air. It was as though something inside of him broke free as he spoke.
She turned back to him. She should run. Instead, she found herself in his arms, his touch impassioned, his head bent to hers as his mouth devoured hers and his tongue searched hers for a response.
She gave herself to that kiss. Her body melted into his, her tongue moved hesitantly at first and then as he took
over, she instinctively gave herself to his lead and the moment of erotic and primal sensation swept through her.
He was a rogue and a libertine and would forget her as soon as he walked away, but she didn’t care. She wanted his kisses. She wanted this feeling. She wanted the hunger he aroused in her. She wanted.
Why him? He was dominant and controlling and she was an independent young woman who liked to make her own way. She didn’t want or need a man forever taking control, yet she wanted this man and she wanted him to be the one to make love to her.
She would be one and twenty soon and had never been in love to the point of wanting a man to bed her, but she wanted this one to do just that. What was wrong with her? But it wasn’t wrong. It couldn’t be, because it felt right—so right.
Rules—men’s rules, never made sense to her. She had always felt men made rules to benefit men. Why shouldn’t she enjoy passion with a man?
She was entitled to this.
So many of her friends were already married and most of them had done a great deal more than kissing before they entered the blissful state of matrimony. It was time she lived a bit, wasn’t it? There was no saying that she would ever marry—not with the course she had taken. Her reputation now would be ruined because she broke her brother out of prison. No one would want her as a wife.
And then all these cogitations were for naught as once again, he set her aside and said, “I am a cad to take advantage of your unstable emotions.”
Her lashes fluttered before she repeated the words in her mind and finally said, “My unstable emotions?”
“Yes…here…lonely, worried…upset…I…”
“And what of your emotions? Are you lonely, worried or upset? Is that why you kissed me, for I tell you frankly, those emotions are not what prompted me to kiss you.”
He eyed her strangely for a moment and asked, “No? What then did?”
She was flushed and embarrassed, so instead of answering him, she wagged a finger at him and said, “Right, as though I am stable enough to know?”
Suddenly he was reaching for her, and he murmured, “May I rot in hell for this.”
Once again she was in his arms, but this time, it was a crushing embrace. It was as though he had been at war with himself and lost.
He lifted her off the ground as his mouth devoured hers and then as he set her feet back down, his hand traveled to cup her breast over her shirt.
He nibbled at her ear and then did the same down the length of her neck and she heard him whisper hoarsely and as though he said it against his will, “Delicious woman, I am lost in you.”
He was a duke. He was a London rogue who had been with countless women, she was sure and he thought her delicious? She was spelled by his touch, by his voice, by his words and she bent to his love-making, matching his desire with her own.
In his arms, she felt as though she was floating into a world of sensation. She wanted this to go on. She liked the feel of his body against hers, felt his manhood through his breeches as it pressed against his clothing and hers and knew a sure excitement, curiosity and a need for more.
And then all at once as though he could wait no longer, his mouth went once again to hers and parted her lips with his own.
Sir Owen’s kisses were nothing like these.
She felt the heat from her toes shoot straight to her brain and fry all logic with one fell swoop.
His tongue gently danced with hers, teased her response and seemed to move with intensity as though emboldened by her return of his passion.
She was hungry for more of this, more of him. More.
She thought of her friend Lucy telling her, that she would know when she was really kissed. Lucy had been right.