“Your flattery is unnecessary.”
“It is not mere flattery.” To her surprise, Deverill reached up to finger a stray tendril that had escaped her wig and brushed it back from her face. “I hope you have not taken to wearing caps. It would be a shame to cover your lovely hair.”
That brief gesture sparked a fiery awareness in Kate and caused her to take an involuntary step backward. If he was attempting to keep her off balance, he was succeeding. And strangely, his scrutiny only grew more intense.
“What if I wanted to claim another kiss?” he murmured.
His unexpected suggestion made her inhale sharply. “That would be entirely inappropriate.”
“Aren’t you curious?”
“Curious?” she repeated breathlessly.
“Wouldn’t you care to see if there is still any attraction between us?”
The notion was absurd. Of course there was still an attraction between them. A potent one. At least on her part.
“No, I don’t want to know. I mean…there is nothing on my side. I don’t need to kiss you to know how I feel.”
“Perhaps I do.”
When he stepped closer, Kate felt her heart leap, whether in alarm or anticipation, she wasn’t certain.
“What are you about, Deverill?”
“Answering a question.”
His gaze captured hers, making her heart pound. His mouth was close, his body closer….
Kate froze. She could scarcely believe Deverill was about to kiss her—or even less, that she would permit him. When he bent toward her, she braced herself. She was not the type of woman to swoon, yet she knew his breath-stealing kisses would make her light-headed and weak.
He seemed in no hurry, however. Rather, he appeared intent on drawing out the moment. Surprisingly, he raised his hand to touch the side of her jaw, a light brush of his fingers. A rush of sensation shot through her at the unexpected caress, making Kate tense even further. In response, he spread his hand and stroked his thumb over her lower lip. Tendrils of heat shimmered inside her at the contact, sending small shivers along her skin. She was vividly aware of everything about him: his strength, his hardness, his barely restrained power.
An unwanted surge of excitement only added to the tautness in her body. And when finally, slowly, he lowered his head, the delicate pressure of his mouth almost stopped her heart. Even forewarned, she was unprepared for the flash of pleasure that staggered her senses. Despite the softness, his kiss was just as explosive as six years ago. It gave her chills, set her body on fire, filled her with delicious feelings….
Her hands rose reflexively to press against Deverill’s chest, yet she didn’t truly want to make him stop. Especially not when he changed the slant of his head, insistently coaxing her surrender as he drew her against him.
She had dreamed of this moment, Kate realized in a haze of need. Of Deverill kissing her again. Of his tender, passionate embrace. Even knowing her imaginings were pure fantasy, she had never entirely given up hope.
His lips moved over hers with exquisite pressure, his kiss slow and erotic and extremely thorough…cajoling, seducing. Then his tongue parted her lips, penetrating her mouth. Stunned, she arched toward him, wanting.
When he delved farther inside, exploring, she gave a helpless moan. He was assailing her with tender languor…molding, tasting, teasing.
Her body melted instinctively against his. All her senses felt assaulted as his tongue stroked provocatively against hers, tangling in a sensual dance. The effect was spellbinding. The heady sensation he roused made her light-headed and giddy.
With a sound between a sigh and a whimper, Kate gave in completely and wrapped her arms around his neck. Deverill made a more guttural sound and drew her closer, a reaction that thrilled her. She clung to him, wishing the moment would last forever.
To her awe and delight, his kiss went on for an endless, enchanting moment. Kate was achingly aware when he shifted against her, for one of his knees separated hers. Through her breeches she felt the pressure of his sinewed thigh against her femininity. She stifled a gasp as another shaft of desire struck her.
Her startled movement must have jolted Deverill, however, for his embrace loosened. When he pulled away, she swayed in his arms, her eyes still closed. He had left her dazed and flustered and hungry for more of what she’d tasted.
It was a long moment before he spoke. “I thought so,” he said with husky satisfaction.
There was a note of triumph in his tone as well. His confidence—his certainty that she would fall into his arms again like a half-wit—rubbed Kate the wrong way. It made her feel helpless, impotent—and she didn’t deal well with either.
She pushed her hands against his chest, holding him away as she stared up at him. Her breath was coming in rapid bursts while her pulse raced wildly. It was so unfair that she should find herself unable to speak, unable to think of anything but Deverill and his marvelous mouth, his beautiful eyes.
His eyes held a dark fire that called to some primitive instinct deep inside her. While she stood mesmerized, he lifted a forefinger to her throat and lightly stroked. “You felt it also.”