Seconds before his lips touched hers, Jarrod made one last desperate attempt to save himself. He tried to back away, tried to give her room to retreat, but Sarah showed no signs of retreating. Standing on tiptoe, she leaned toward him, lifted her chin, and pursed her lips…
He stared down at her upturned face and the way she puckered her lips and was lost…
Sarah tried to keep her eyes open as Jarrod closed the distance between his lips and hers, but her eyes closed of their own accord as Jarrod covered her mouth with his. As she exchanged breaths with him for the first time, Sarah fulfilled the romantic dream of a lifetime.
Jarrod Shepherdston was finally kissing her. And his kiss was a thousand times better than she had ever imagined. Sarah marveled at the tenderness with which he covered her mouth, then gave a startled gasp at the unexpected feel of his tongue against her lips.
Jarrod used his tongue to tease, tantalize, and seduce and although she was willing and incredibly eager, it was apparent to Jarrod that sweet, innocent, tempting Sarah had never kissed a man before.
It was equally apparent to Jarrod that he never wanted any other man to have the chance.
"Heaven help me!" he murmured, a heartbeat before he redoubled his efforts and lavished her mouth with attention, paying particular interest to her plump bottom lip, savoring the texture, flicking his tongue over it, touching the roughness of the myriad tiny abrasions she made with her teeth each time she bit her bottom lip.
Jarrod captured her breath, swallowing the soft sigh that escaped her lips as he deepened the kiss. She tasted of his whisky and the tart sweetness of untutored innocence and that combination released a storm of hidden emotions. Jarrod moved his mouth over hers, kissing her harder, then softer, then harder once more, testing her response, slipping his tongue past her teeth, exploring the sweet hot interior of her mouth with practiced finesse.
He made love to her mouth, teaching her everything he knew about the fine art of kissing in her first lesson.
And Sarah proved herself a most excellent student by following his lead. She moved her lips beneath his and kissed him back with a newfound talent and enthusiasm that inspired him as much as it surprised him.
She progressed rapidly, mirroring his actions and inventing a few of her own as she moved from student to teacher in the space of a few heartbeats. The jolt of pure pleasure he felt as she experimented with her tongue and teeth and mouth, finding additional ways to entice him, shook him down to his toes, threatening to steal his breath away along with his control.
The idea should have terrified him. It should have sent him running back to his study, should have had him barring the door to keep her out, but Jarrod welcomed her in. He traced the elegant line of her neck with the tips of hi
s fingers, then tangled his fingers in her hair and leisurely stroked the inside of her mouth with his tongue.
Sarah was ignorant of the language of love, but her body was not. It recognized the ancient mating ritual and responded in kind. Her breasts plumped, the tips of them hardening into insistent little points, clamoring to be noticed. The surge of current that went through her body at the boldness of his kiss settled in the region between her thighs, causing an unrelenting ache for something she couldn't name — something she suspected he would have no trouble recognizing or supplying.
Sarah moaned softly, pressing herself against him in an effort to assuage the aching as she returned his kiss, following his lead, learning the taste of him, the thrust and parry of his tongue and the rasp of his teeth.
He heard her soft moan and somewhere in the midst of kissing her, Jarrod forgot she was an innocent. He held her close against him with one hand splayed against her bottom, while he used his other hand to blaze a path from the soft curls at the nape of her neck, over her shoulder, down her arm, and between their bodies. He slipped his hand beneath her cloak and pushed her nightgown off her shoulder, gently cupping the soft underside of her breast.
Sarah gasped at the pleasure his touch engendered and Jarrod rubbed the pad of his thumb across the hard tip of her breast, then filled his palm with the weight of it.
Jarrod answered Sarah's gasp by gathering a fistful of cotton and lifting the hem of her nightgown. She nearly yelped in astonishment as he slid his hand beneath the fabric and placed it against her bare bottom. The sudden, startling impropriety of his touch sent her senses reeling, but Sarah didn't pull away. She settled more comfortably in his arms, yielding to his naughty breach of etiquette, opening herself up to more of his alluring surprises, welcoming the erotic sensation, as he sent more shivers up and down her spine.
Jarrod didn't disappoint her. He was wedging his thigh between hers, exposing the length of her naked leg, allowing her to feel the hard ridge at the front of his breeches, when the front door opened.
* * * * *
"What the devil!" Jarrod growled as the front door swung open and a blast of cool air and rain hit him in the face.
"Good morning, my boy. I know I'm early, but I saw your lights and — " Lord Robert Mayhew finished shaking the rain off his umbrella and looked up. "Good heavens!"
Jarrod let go of the hem of Sarah's nightgown, but not before his godfather caught sight of an extremely shapely bottom and extremely bare leg and hip.
Lord Mayhew took one glance at the scene in front of him and quickly turned his back. "I beg your pardon, Jarrod. I knew we wouldn't be riding in this downpour, but I never thought… I didn't realize you might — " Mayhew cleared his throat, and apologized once again. "I'm terribly sorry. We can forgo breakfast. I'll dine at the club."
"Wait! Please!" Jarrod shook his head as if to clear it. What the devil had happened to his self-control? His discipline? What the devil had happened to his good sense and his good intentions? He had just managed to do what he said he wouldn't do and had compromised her in the marble entry hall of his town house in full view of anyone coming down the main staircase from upstairs and anyone coming up the front walk and in the front door. Thank goodness he'd sent the staff to bed hours ago and thank goodness they had yet to begin their morning routine, or the footman who was normally stationed in the hallway would have gotten an eyeful. Just like Lord Rob. Because Jarrod had been so consumed by the pleasure of making love to Sarah Eckersley's mouth that he hadn't heard Lord Rob's coach drive up or the sound of his godfather's footsteps on the walkway. "I was about to take Sar — the young lady — home and we've need of private transportation. May we use your coach?"
"Yes, of course," Lord Mayhew answered, eager to make amends for his untimely interruption. "It's parked out front and my driver is entirely trustworthy."
"Thank you, sir," Jarrod answered respectfully. Bending slightly at the knees, he swung Sarah up into his arms.
Mayhew stepped aside to allow Jarrod to pass.
"I'll return shortly, sir," Jarrod called over his shoulder as he carried Sarah to Mayhew's coach. "Please, make yourself at home."
Lord Robert waved him off. "Don't bother about me. Take your time, my boy. No need to rush." He grinned at Jarrod. "I'll wait."