Never Tempt a Rogue: A Rogues' Rulebook Novella by Christy Carlyle

Lindsay moved with her. Right in front of her, as if to block her from Thomas’s view. He was so near she could feel warmth emanating from his body, smell his spicy cologne.
    As she studied the broad expanse of his shoulders, the waves of his bronze hair, she marveled at his interest in her. No man had so much as given her a second glance in four years. She’d come to believe all her passion had been used up. Wasted on a faithless man.
    But Lord Lindsay had dredged up the last ember. Every time the man was near, he ignited reactions she’d expected to forfeit for the rest of her days. Her feelings for Thomas had built gradually over a long acquaintance, but the viscount had sparked her interest from their first encounter. Denying it and chastising herself changed nothing. She wanted him as she’d never desired any man. It was wrong and would lead to nothing. She must continue to deny it, for Amy’s sake, most of all. But here in the dark, with the firm line of his back sheltering her and his rich scent making her ache for a taste of his skin, she could admit it to herself.
    Thomas lifted his head to gaze at the balcony, and suddenly Felicity wasn’t afraid he might spot her standing on the terrace with a notorious rogue as much as she feared becoming the old maid he’d accused her of being.
    “Come closer.” Her chest constricted in apprehension the moment she rasped out the throaty command.
    Lord Lindsay turned quickly and approached. He reached for her, allowing her no time to take back her words.
    His fingers were surprisingly gentle as he eased her hand into his, and their palms fit together as if they’d been molded for the moment. The heat of his body chased away the cold, and she’d been chilled for so long. She’d begun to doubt ever experiencing the warmth of a man’s embrace again. When he drew near, his chest brushed against hers and she gripped the crisp lapel of his evening suit to pull him closer.
    “You’re shivering.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket and lifted the edges to wrap her bare arms in the fabric. “Let me warm you up.”
    “I’m not cold.” Her voice was too breathy, her pulse fluttering in her veins too wildly. She didn’t want him to stop holding her, and yet it was him, his voice low and husky, his scent surrounding her, the muscular plane of his body against hers that made her shiver.
    He glanced back to where Thomas and Lady Louisa had been. Felicity couldn’t see past the sharp edge of his shoulder, and didn’t know if Thomas still watched them or not. Whatever she’d hoped to accomplish by allowing Thomas to see her with Lord Lindsay, it seemed much less important than the intimate moment between them.
    “Did he upset you? Kenniston? I saw him speaking to you.” He tilted his head and studied her eyes, whatever he could see of them in the moonlight. “Did he break your heart?”
    “A long time ago.”
    “Rotter.” He growled the word.
    “I thought you were the rotter.” Wasn’t that what she’d followed him onto the terrace to tell him?
    Her question made him smile, not the wide Cheshire grin he’d offered to the ladies in the ballroom, but a soft, sensual curve of his mouth. She reached a finger up to trace the swell of his lower lip. How could a man’s lips be so plush? He held still for her caress, and then lowered his head to join their mouths. Breath tangling with hers, he stilled and waited for her to respond. Opening her lips to him and urging him to deepen their kiss felt as right as being in his arms. He tasted of spice, embraced her protectively, held her as if she was precious.
    He was too tender, too tempting. One melting kiss and she was on the precipice again, ready to fall. In danger of losing her heart.
    No. Another fall would break her. Behind Felicity, the hum of music reverberated through the windows. The musicians had started playing again. Dancing would have resumed, and she’d failed to check on Amy. What am I doing?
    “Still think