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

But no man with a heart could ignore the plea in that trembling hand.

Knowing that he tested his principles but unable to do otherwise, he seized her hand. Her fingers clenched hard around his.

“I can’t resist you,” he muttered, hoping she wouldn’t hear.

She straightened and faced him, bewilderment clear in the flickering light. “I don’t understand.”

For one moment more, he held back. If he’d marched her to the vicarage when she first offered, he’d have kept his hands to himself. But what could a man do when he wanted a woman as badly as he wanted this one and she promised to make all his dreams come true?

“Hell, Genevieve,” he groaned in defeat and swept her into his arms.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Lightning blasted in Christopher’s eyes as his barriers against her finally tumbled. Genevieve braced for ravishment.

Instead of flinging her into a world of unfettered hunger, his touch remained gentle. Delicious warmth surrounded her as he drew her into his body. Warmth that dissipated the chill lingering since Lord Neville’s assault. His mouth touched he

rs. With a wordless protest, she moved closer. Still he teased. Soft kisses. Quick kisses. She wanted him to remake her with his passion, yet he seemed determined to tantalize her to death.

“Christopher!” she muttered in the space between one glancing kiss and the next.

“Yes?” What a hopeless case she was. The mere sound of his voice turned her into a molten puddle of longing.

“Kiss me properly.”

“I don’t intend to be proper at all, my love.”

“So you say.” She struggled to ignore the endearment as her hands tangled in his shirt. “Stop tormenting me.”

Kisses on nose, forehead, jaw. He kissed her neck, setting a thousand nerves jangling. Her toes curled in her damp slippers and she pressed against him, silently begging him to stop treating her as if she was likely to break. Still he held her as delicately as he’d cradle a baby bird in his palm. His lips returned to hers and his tongue dipped between her lips for a fleeting taste.

This hint of controlled power crashed through her like cymbals. On a sigh, she sank into him. His teasing had brought her to a pitch of surrender that left her blind to everything but him.

When Lord Neville had touched her, she’d felt revulsion and fear. When Christopher touched her, she just wanted more. The hot weight settling in her belly was familiar now, yet new. She felt disconnected from the everyday world. Lost in Christopher’s arms.

Her body couldn’t contain these responses. She must shatter into a million stars. On an incoherent plea, she rose against his hips, pushing into his hardness. She built the pressure in a vain attempt to relieve the ache between her legs, but every slide of her body only increased her need.

Somewhere she must have pulled away his neck cloth. Or he had. Her lips traced smooth skin, redolent of male, lemon verbena and Christopher, the scent that she’d recognize from all the scents in the world.

He nibbled his way up her neck. His unrelenting, intense gentleness left her quaking, dizzy, overcome. His mouth traced the side of her face. The touch was soft as the brush of a feather, but pain splintered delight. She whimpered and jerked away.

“Darling…” He withdrew and stared at her.

Guilt darkened his expression. The hands gripping her arms—dear Lord, he hadn’t touched her body at all and already she quaked—eased so that it felt as if his hold was as delicate as a single thread of silk.

Oh, no. No, no, no. He wasn’t stopping now. Not when finally his kisses promised oblivion. Frantically she buried her hands in his hair, pulling its soft thickness. “Keep going.”

“You’re hurt.”

“He hit me.” Curse Christopher, he must know she didn’t want to talk. She, a woman who spent all day juggling words, wanted only to feel. “It will hurt me more if you stop.”

He kissed her tenderly, sending her heart swooping. “I won’t stop.”

She stretched up to kiss him, using her tongue in silent demand. When he hesitated, she tugged his hair until he kissed her back.

At last, at last, he cupped her breast. In aching welcome, the nipple pearled against his palm. She shivered as he bared her to sweet exploration. Moisture welled between her thighs and she shifted restlessly.

He kissed her neck again, stirring more shivery reaction, but for all her eagerness, she wasn’t ready to lie down on the bank. “Come with me,” she forced out, as his teeth scraped a sensitive spot on her neck.