Passionately Yours (Hellions of High Street 3)

Breaking free of the embrace, he feathered a trail of kisses across her cheek, wanting to savor the sensations of her smooth skin and beguiling scent. Neroli and roses?

Alec inhaled, only to feel a little light-headed.

“You are,” he rasped, “sweeter than sin.”

Was this sin?

Caro closed her eyes for an instant, overwhelmed by the feel of liquid fire bubbling through her blood.

She had, of course, read about kisses. And her sister Anna described them very well in her novels. But the actual experience defied words. Textures—a man was a mix of intriguing textures. Soft lips, skin stubbled with a faint hint of whiskers, jawline sculpted of smooth steel.

Pressing closer, she felt the roundness of her breasts yield to the hard planes of his chest. Through the layers of muslin and linen, the subtle slabs of his shape seemed to imprint on her body. Her palms stroked over and over the ridge of his broad shoulders, exploring the contours of muscle.

He was so very big and very solid, like a slab of Highland granite. And yet, beneath the surface she could sense heat coursing through him. Above the starched points of his shirtcollar, his skin was a little damp, and each throb of his pulsepoint stirred a mix of very masculine scents. Tobacco, leather, bay rum, and an earthier essence that she couldn’t put a name to.

Desire?

His mouth found hers again, hot and demanding. Responding with equal ardor, she opened herself. Eagerly, eagerly. That he was not impervious to passion sent a fresh frisson of fire through her.

If this was sin, then she was damned for all eternity.

I am bad—very bad, she thought hazily as she touched and twined her tongue with his. And cheerfully unrepentant. This irresistible attraction to Alec simply felt…

Right, not wrong. Good, not evil.

Everything about his long, lean body—his sculpted shoulders, his tapered waist, his corded thighs—radiated an essence of honorable strength.

A shiver sizzled through her, and with a soft sigh, she touched a tentative caress along the line of his jaw.

A ragged groan whispered against her lips.

“Alec.” His name slipped free from her lips.

He eased back, looking… well, she wasn’t sure how to describe his look.

Longing? Lustful?

Quite possibly, it was an expression of utter shock.

“Good God, I’m sorry—”

“Oh, please!” Her hand stilled. “If you apologize, I swear I shall strangle you.”

His mouth went through an odd set of contortions. Was he whispering a prayer of penance? Or trying not to laugh.

“Caro? Alec?” The calls were coming from close by.

“Damnation.” Stumbling back a step, Alec tugged at his coat and cravat, trying to restore some semblance of order.

Echoing his oath, Caro shook out her skirts and straightened her bodice. A few hasty jabs refastened her hairpins, but with a fleeting touch to her mouth, she realized there was nothing she could do about the kissed-ravaged swell of her lips.

Thankfully, Andover was far too much a gentleman to comment on her appearance.

And hopefully Alec’s sister was too innocent to notice.

“Ah, there you are!” Isobel started across the clearing, then stopped short. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

“No, no, nothing important,” said Caro, hoping her voice didn’t sound as brittle as glass to her friend. “We were just discussing…” Her mind went utterly blank.