He moved closer, so close their energies collided. Their breath mingled together in a tense dance of restrained longing. He paused, gave her every opportunity to pull away as he slipped the blade slowly back into the sheath. Instead, she eased his internal struggle by pressing her cherry-red lips to his.
The sweet brush of her mouth sent his pulse soaring.
It was the first kiss of an innocent. Yet beneath this chaste melding of mouths, he sensed a burning curiosity, a wild thirst for knowledge, power. This woman sought to embrace her womanhood on her own terms, not in the way society deemed appropriate.
By rights, he should remove his hand from beneath her skirts. But the need to appease his own curious mind, the need to find the one thing in life that eluded him, saw him edge his hand up her thigh and settle on a plump buttock.
Miss Vale sucked in a sharp breath as she broke contact, yet from behind her mask she continued to kiss him with those alluring blue eyes.
“If you want to experience desire, Miss Vale, allow me to be your tutor.” One more kiss—hot and rampant—would be enough to ease this odd yearning for now. Besides, did this lady not need an education in the dangers of succumbing to carnal needs?
He waited for a sign of approval.
It took a few seconds for a coy smile to play at the corners of her mouth. “If I’m to experience it with any man, I would like it to be you.”
Her words rocked him to his core.
They spoke of emotions beyond that of the superficial. Confounding feelings that brought the only glimmer of hope he had experienced in all his twenty-six years. But he knew better than to place his trust in dreams. This lady wanted a wild adventure, and for the next few minutes he would give her one.
“Then you must let me know what you like.”
She swallowed. “And you must do the same.”
He moistened his lips as his ravenous hunger growled at him for stalling. “Then I want you to explore my mouth with your tongue. I want you to hold nothing back. If I’m too rough, you must tell me.”
“What about Mr Wincote?”
“Sod Mr Wincote.”
The raging devil inside refused to wait a moment longer, and so he claimed her lips in a scorching embrace, teased his way into her moist mouth and plundered her senseless.
Good God!
She tasted like he imagined—pure and sweet and insanely tempting. He left no room for fears and doubts. Every press of his erection against her abdomen, every soft caress of her buttocks, every guttural groan into her mouth spoke of hot, carnal lust. His cock throbbed. His body ached with the need to plunge inside her, thrust long and hard. Claim. Brand.
Every sweep of her tongue, every moan and soft sigh drove him closer to the edge of no return. If he didn’t have this woman, he feared he might die.
“Trent?” His name echoed in a distant chamber of his mind. “Trent?” Cavanagh’s voice acted like a pinprick, jolting him to attention.
Panic ensued as he tore his mouth from Miss Vale’s delectable lips. He peered into the shadows, heard the slap of Cavanagh’s Roman sandals hitting the cobblestones. He snatched his hands out from Miss Vale’s skirts and mentally chastised himself for taking things too far.
“Cavanagh will be upon us soon.” He met Miss Vale’s dazed gaze. “We should step out from the doorway.”
He expected some embarrassment—but this woman defied his expectations.
“In a moment.” The lady came up on her tiptoes, curled her fingers around his nape and recaptured his mouth. The quick dance of their tongues felt like a lovers’ parting embrace—desperate, needy, bound together with profound tenderness. He could not have pulled away if his life depended upon it.
“Trent?” Cavanagh cursed. “Devil take it, where is he?”
Miss Vale severed their connection, left him wanting.
She put her hand to her chest and tried to calm
her ragged breathing. “You are remarkably good at kissing. One suspects desire might become addictive.”
So addictive he could think of nothing but thrusting home.
Lawrence swallowed down all licentious intentions. “It would not take much for us to lose our heads.”