Selina shuddered on a confused murmur. This symphony of incoherent moans and sighs was damnably stirring. He wanted to hear her when he thrust deep inside her, when he brought her to climax.
Not tonight. But soon.
He remained aware of their danger, even as she lost herself in the kiss. He drew her down onto the settle which at least offered some concealment.
With a muffled mutter, she pressed closer. Brock licked her lips and dared another foray into her mouth. This time, her tongue fluttered against his. That tentative welcome rushed through him like wildfire. He drew back, hoping she’d take his lead. Praise the angels, she did. As her tongue slid into his mouth, he sucked on it and she gave another hum, a longer, voluptuous note of surrender.
He’d never found innocence appealing. Too much risk of misunderstandings. His lovers were women who knew what they wanted. But teaching this widow how to kiss set his heart clenching with more tenderness. A tenderness that proved an incongruous companion to his craving to conquer and possess.
So while the kiss melted into passion, sweetness lingered. Brock had kissed more women than he cared to remember, yet he’d never experienced a kiss like this one.
By heaven, he’d remember this kiss. The day he died, he’d think back to Selina Martin’s tongue in his mouth and her graceful body trembling between his hands.
Because now she caught onto the basics, she proved an infernally adept student. He hauled her across his lap to give him better access to her mouth. Plastered to him as she was, she must know the effect she had on him. His heart crashed against his ribs over and over, and his cock swelled with hungry demand as her kiss turned voracious.
She was warm, fragrant, and desperate. He usually didn’t find desperation to his liking either. But Selina’s wholehearted desire was the most exciting thing he’d ever known.
Too exciting. If she kept kissing him, he’d push her down onto the cushioned seat and have her. To hell with discretion. And while the wicked, selfish side of his nature would like nothing better, he’d promised to look after her.
Selina roused his rusty honor from its long sleep. He lifted his head, ignoring her murmur of disappointment, and stared down at her in wonder and regret. Because he’d like nothing better than to rip away that ugly dress and squeeze her breasts and cup her delectable rump and part her legs and slide deep inside her.
Soon…
When he held her in his arms like this, soon wasn’t soon enough.
"We must stop," he said gruffly.
Her eyes were heavy with desire. "Yes," she said with no conviction whatsoever.
Despite his agony of frustration, a grunt of reluctant amusement escaped him. "We shouldn’t have started."
Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were full and red from his kisses. "I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first saw you."
As ever, her honesty carved a great rift in his heart. "Tomorrow, you can kiss me all you like."
"It seems a cursed long way off."
A pox on it, it did. It took an almighty amount of willpower to shift her off his knees and lift his hands away from her. A reminder of how close he verged to consigning any thought of scandal to perdition.
"Dream of me." He stood up and stepped back, although he had a grim foreboding that he could retreat as far as Cathay without it making a scrap of difference to his captivity.
"I do," she whispered, staring up at him with unabashed hunger.
He closed his eyes and told himself he couldn’t tumble Selina Martin in Lord Derwent’s library. Tonight she’d told him so much. She’d revealed even more in what she hadn’t said. One selfish sod had already shared her bed, and Brock feared she went to another in a fortnight. Now she deserved a man who took time and care to coax every ounce of sensuality from that slender body.
"Selina…" he said on a groan.
"I know."
He opened his eyes to catch such longing on her face that he couldn’t help surging forward.
This time, she raised a trembling hand to stop him coming closer. She stood. "Don’t touch me again, or I won’t go. We’re not safe here."
With yearning eyes, he watched her leave. He told himself he couldn’t rush after her and catch her and carry her upstairs to his room. On her way out, she didn’t look back, he guessed because she teetered as close to forsaking all caution as he did.
"We’ll be safe tomorrow," he said after her.
But Brock knew he lied. Because the passion that flared between him and Selina Martin was the kind that shook kingdoms. When desire burned so hot, nowhere was safe.