A Rake's Midnight Kiss (Sons of Sin 2)

His lips quirked and his fingers moved upon hers in a caress that tingled to her toes. “It might distract me from what I really want to do.”

He was hard against her hip. She’d ventured so close to yielding that while his desire daunted, it thrilled too. “We can’t.”

She prayed he didn’t hear her piercing regret. How had he lured her so quickly to the brink? She’d thought to enjoy a few kisses, then take her merry way. Instead longing entangled her, made her want more. Knowing that more was a mistake.

“I know.” Tucking her head under his chin, he cupped a possessive hand under one breast. He pressed his lips to her temple with a tenderness that stifled doubt. Almost.

Gradually passion subsided to a gentle flow, in tune with the river and the soft breeze shifting the willow. The erratic dance of the sunlight mirrored the erratic dance of her heart until even that slowed.

She’d never imagined lying quietly with him, breathing as if they shared one life. Always he’d picked and pried at her, making her as jumpy as a flea on a cat. While the warm afternoon drifted, Genevieve forgot time, although she never forgot whose arms encircled her in perfect peace.

Genevieve awoke to lazy pleasure. Behind closed eyes, she was aware of golden light. The day wasn’t over. Slowly, not sure that she wanted to return to the real world of responsibility and consequences, she lifted her eyelids. Christopher studied her with heavy-eyed delight as he dipped his hand under her bodice to stroke her breasts. She shifted and realized that his other hand slid beneath her skirt.

Voluptuous enjoyment kept fear just far enough away to ignore. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked drowsily.

He kissed her briefly, then returned to kiss her more thoroughly. “Taking advantage, Miss Barrett.”

His hand traced elaborate patterns under her drawers. With each pass, he ventured higher. Her sex ached for a touch where no man had touched her before. The distant alarm became a blaring shriek. Still she had to force herself to stiffen in his arms.

“I’m not Hecuba.”

“You purr like she does,” he whispered into her ear, his breath disturbing soft tendrils of hair.

“You promised.”

He stared at her, his gaze steady. Almost trustworthy. “I give you my word you’ll be as pure when I’ve finished as you are now.”

“Take me back to Little Derrick.”

Desperation lit his eyes. “Not yet. Please, not yet.”

His need sliced at her heart. She felt as though she poised on a cliff. One reckless step and she tumbled down to the rocks below.

She took the step.

“Kiss me before I change my mind,” she said, her throat tight with nerves.

His mouth took hers and the world faded to hot darkness. When his hand rose higher, she clung to his shoulders. Then his hand slipped between her thighs. The seeking touch so close to her center made her close her legs.

“You’ll like this,” he whispered.

“I’m sure I will,” she said unsteadily. “But that doesn’t make it right.”

“I’ll stop if you ask.”

Despite apprehension and gnawing frustration, she gave a choked laugh. “Once you start, I won’t want you to stop.”

She sighed and loosened her thighs. Scattering thought, he kissed her again. Then he stroked her through the slit in her drawers.

She tensed with surprise. “Oh.”

His thumb brushed a spot that set her trembling. She moaned against his lips as clever fingers circled and caressed. Her skin felt too tight. She shifted against his hand and the change in pressure throbbed through her. Hot moisture welled against his palm and she hid her face in his shirt, his musky, lemony scent intoxicating her.

Dear Lord, what magic his fingers contained. His body curled over her and still those deft fingers teased. She went rigid when he slid one long finger inside her.

She grabbed his wrist. “That feels strange.”

Strange. Terrifying. Wonderful.