Improperly Wed (Aristocratic Grooms 3)

“Then why am I so deathly serious?”

“Because you play to win.”

“Exactly. Kiss me.”

“Rather direct,” she tried. “I would have thought you’d have more subtle lures in your repertoire.”

“I do, but I’ve waited three years.”

“Perhaps the first time was a fluke.”

“Does this feel like a fluke?” He took her hand and placed it on his chest. “Touch me, Belinda.”

Belinda’s head buzzed. She felt the strong and steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. The contact with him was intoxicating, just like at the opera.

“We may have been born and bred to be enemies,” he said, “but in this, we’re one.”

“It’s just passion…”

“Enough to build on.”

Colin bent his head slowly, tilting it first in one direction and then in another, as if deciding how he wanted to kiss her.

Belinda felt as if the moment drew out forever.

When he finally settled his lips on hers, it was with soft but insistent pressure, and Belinda unconsciously parted her lips.

He tasted faintly minty and all male, a flavor that only fueled and deepened her desire. His hands settled on her shoulders, where they molded and relaxed her.

She’d closed the door on their past. She’d tried not to dwell on how hotly passionate their night in Vegas had been. Now, however, she recalled vividly how he’d kissed every inch of her.

Her nipples became pronounced, her hips heavy with desire.

Colin moved his hands down her back.

“I don’t know where the zipper is,” he murmured between kisses.

“That’s the point,” she said against his mouth.

“I don’t want to ruin your lovely dress. It fits you like a glove, and with any luck, there’ll be other evenings when you can wear it to bring me to my knees.”

She fought against the feelings that his words evoked. “You are not literally on your knees.”

He pulled back to gaze into her eyes. “Would you like me to be?”

She trembled because she remembered the previous time that Colin had called her bluff. They had walked into a wedding chapel.

He trailed a finger lazily down from her collarbone to her cleavage, just skirting the tip of one breast.

“If I were on my knees,” he said in a deep voice, “I think my lips would reach right here.”

He touched the sensitive skin of her midriff.

She found herself holding her breath.

“On the other hand, if you bent forward,” he continued, “my mouth would close over here.”

His thumb skimmed over her nipple, and Belinda gasped and her eyes went wide.