Dauntless (Gentlemen of the Order 1)

“Things may progress beyond a kiss.”

“I fear I might die if you don’t touch me, Mr Ashwood.”

“Noah,” he corrected as he slipped his arm around her waist and drew her close. “I’m of a mind to satisfy your cravings. To pander to your whims.”

“I’m of a mind to let you.”

He drew the backs of his fingers gently across her cheek, across skin pale as porcelain, soft as silk. “Then I’m going to kiss you, Eva.”

Her nod was the only signal he needed to lower his head and claim her mouth. He intended to take his time, to teach her to express her desire, to awaken her passions, tease a deeper reaction, a slow and gentle caressing of tongues.

God help him.

It took every effort not to devour her senseless. It might have been easier had she not clutched the lapels of his coat, ready to rip it off his back. Easier, had her need not been evident in the rocking of her hips, had she not released a throaty hum.

Indeed, as their mouths moved together in a sensual dance, it became evident neither had control over their desires. What should have been a chaste, experimental kiss turned into something so damn hot he burned to shove her skirts to her waist and thrust home.

Hell!

The temperature in the room soared when she slipped her tongue into his mouth. Damn, it was so warm and sweet, so bloody seductive. He could taste a hint of brandy. The contradiction of innocence and the independent streak he loved sent blood rushing to his cock.

He was so damn hard.

So damn desperate.

The need to consummate their union threatened to consume him. Him! A master of control and level-headedness! Except when he was with her. With her, he could be himself, could let down the barriers. He might have laughed had he not been obsess

ed with making love to her mouth.

Eva tore her lips from his to catch her breath. “Oh, it is so hot in here. Perhaps we should move away from the fire.”

He might have suggested they remove their clothes, but he didn’t want to frighten her, didn’t want to press her too hard. Indeed, he had to temper his inner flames before they overwhelmed him.

He knew lust, but not this all-consuming passion.

“Perhaps I should escort you home,” he said, his erection jerking in protest, though he knew where their amorous inclinations would lead. “Before I end up throwing you over my shoulder and taking you to bed.”

She laughed as she looked at him through inviting blue pools that made a man want to strip naked and plunge deep. “Things tend to get a little heated with us, do they not?”

“A little? Madam, the brigade would refuse to tackle the blaze.”

“Some say lust is the devil’s curse.” Her eyes turned all soft and dreamy, her smile wistful. “I say lust is heavenly.”

“So, you crave my body, Miss Dunn.”

She hit him playfully on the arm and giggled. Hell. She was so damn irresistible when happy. “You know I find your mind just as stimulating.”

Did she mean to use such a provocative word?

Did she mean to tease him to distraction?

“The feeling is mutual, hence the reason we’re likely to lose our heads.”

Lord, how he longed to see her lose control, longed to see her writhing in his lap, panting, shuddering as her climax ripped through her. He longed to see her hair wild and untamed, her lips moist and swollen, longed to have her clinging to him, urging him to thrust harder.

Blast. He had to cease with this mental torture.

“Let me escort you home,” he said. Bower would be keeping watch in Brownlow Street, would report directly to Lucius Daventry. “Your problems are far from over. It’s imperative we remain focused. There’s plenty of time to explore our growing attraction.”