“What is the actual reason?” she whispered.
“Are you certain you want to know?” At her nod, he said, “I’m curious to know if the kiss we once shared would be as enjoyable the second time around.” He settled her hand on his chest, right above the spot where his heart thumped as if he’d run a race, then lightly clasped her waist and drew her slowly closer. When only inches separated them, he said, “Are you willing to admit you want the same thing?”
He stood perfectly still, waiting for her response, wondering if she would display the same courage she had the previous evening or if she would hide behind a false curtain of prim, maidenly reserve. She leaned into him, raised her face and whispered, “I want the same thing.”
Thank God. Nathan bludgeoned back the nearly overwhelming primitive desire to simply yank her against him and devour her and instead slowly lowered his head toward those tempting lips that had haunted countless hours. At last he would know if he’d just imagined how good that long ago kiss had been.
He lightly brushed his lips over hers, a tantalizing whisper of a touch. A breathless sound escaped her, and he feathered his lips over hers again, teasing, searching, tasting. He ran the tip of his tongue over her plump lower lip, an invitation she accepted by parting her lips. With a groan he couldn’t hold back, he drew her tightly against him and settled his mouth on hers. And instantly knew what had gone through the mind of the prince in the Cinderella tale when he’d finally found the foot that fit the glass slipper: It’s about bloody damn time.
Desire seared him with the intensity of a flash fire, and as it had the last time he’d held this woman in his arms and kissed her, he lost all sense of time and place. There was only her, the luscious taste of her silky mouth, the erotic friction of her tongue mating with his, the satin of her hair sifting through his fingers, the delicate scent of roses rising from her skin, the lush feel of her feminine curves pressing against him, the arousing sensation of her hands gliding up and down his back.
Damn it, he felt… unhinged. Desperate. In a way that would have appalled him if he’d had any control over his reaction to her. The last time he held her, he’d been very much aware that his brother and her aunt sat in the next room. But there was no one else here now…
Hauling her up against him, he stepped back until his shoulders hit the wall. With a deep groan, he spread his legs, planted his boots firmly in the sand, and drew her into the vee of his thighs.
Lost… he was totally, utterly lost. No woman had ever felt like this, tasted like this. Yet, it wasn’t simply the way she fit so perfectly in his arms or the delicious flavor of her that affected him so powerfully. It was also her ardent response to his kiss, to his touch. He doubted he’d have had a prayer of resisting her under any circumstances, but the fact that she kissed him, touched him, with a fervor equal to his own all but brought him to his knees.
She moaned and shifted restlessly against him, and his hands wandered down her back, to cup the enticing curve of her buttocks. He settled her more firmly against him then slowly rubbed himself against her. His erection jerked and he knew he stood in real danger of losing all control. Desperate to slow things down before he disgraced himself in a way he hadn’t since he was a green lad, but unable to stop this madness, he somehow found the strength to abandon the silken delights of her mouth, to trail his lips over her soft cheek, then along her jaw.
But he found no relief there, as her skin inundated his senses with the elusive hint of roses. He ran the tip of his tongue over the delicate shell of her ear, absorbing her sharp intake of breath, which melted into a husky groan when his teeth gently grazed her earlobe. He nuzzled the sensitive skin behind her ear, and she arched her neck to afford him better access, all while her hands smoothed over his chest and shoulders. He touched his tongue to the throbbing hollow at the base of her throat, absorbing the frantic beat.
Stop… he had to stop… but every halfhearted rational thought fled when she fisted her hands in his hair and dragged his head up.
“Again,” she whispered against his mouth, not a plea, but a command filled with impatience. If he’d been capable of doing so, he would have laughed at the autocratic demand, which was the same one she’d issued him three years ago. He hadn’t denied her, or himself, then, and he’d be damned if he was capable of it now.
Their mouths melded in a lush, deep kiss, his tongue stroking in an imitation of the act his body ached to share with hers. Wild hunger, unlike anything he’d ever before experienced, roared through his veins. His hands glided up her back, then forward to cup her breasts. Her beaded nipple grazed his palm through the material of her riding costume-material that had to go. He slipped off her lace fichu, then glided his fingers over the satin swells of her full breasts. Bloody hell, she was so soft. Her warm skin quivered beneath his hands, and his fingers slid beneath the edge of her bodice.
She leaned back, breaking off their kiss. “Wh-What are you doing?” she panted against his lips.
Questions? She expected him to be able to answer questions? His fingers brushed over her nipple and he groaned.
“What are you doing?”
He had to swallow to find his voice. “Surely that is obvious.”
Shoving against his chest, she pulled out of his embrace and backed up several paces. With her chest heaving, hair mussed, bodice askew, color high, and lips moist and swollen, she looked aroused and as if she’d just left her lover’s arms. Until he looked into her eyes. Then she looked like glaring Fury about to sizzle him where he stood with a lightning bolt.
“Yes, it is obvious,” she said, her eyes spitting anger as she grabbed at her bodice. “You’re looking for your letter.”
Nine
Today’s Modern Woman will hopefully in her search for intimate fulfillment meet a gentleman who can render her aroused and weak-kneed with a mere look. While it is always delightful to find such a man, she must remain on her guard with this man at all times for he, by virtue of her strong attraction to him, wields power over her.
A Ladies’ Guide to the Pursuit of
Personal Happiness and Intimate Fulfillment
by Charles Brightmore
Nathan stared at her, nonplussed, ragged breaths puffing from between his lips for several seconds. Then he shook his head and laughed. “Well, hell. That’s actually what I should have been doing. Unfortunately it never occurred to me.”
She sent him a withering look. “Surely you don’t expect me to believe that of an accomplished spy.”
“After three years of not using my spy skills, I’m afraid they’re a bit rusty. And you’re not giving your charms nearly enough credit. I never once thought of the letter.” As if I could have. Damn it, if she’d asked him to state his own name he would have been hard pressed to recall it. He sucked in a deep breath and shoved back his hair with hands that still weren’t quite steady. “However, now that you’ve brought up the subject of my note, I want it back.” He pushed away from the wall and approached her. Her eyes widened, but then she straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin and stood her ground. When only two feet separated them, he reached out and gently traced the backs of his fingers against her flushed cheek.
“Please, Victoria…” Her name rolled off his tongue, and he knew that after what they’d just shared, he’d never want to address her formally again. “Give me the note. After everything I told you today, surely you can see that it’s important to me.”
She blinked, then her eyes narrowed. “Dr. Oliver-”