explain why she raised her face and drew a breath. Or why she laid her fingers on the duke’s forearm, thrilling at the latent strength that she could feel there. A nightingale sang from a nearby tree. His firmly molded mouth met hers with an intimacy that filled her with terror and wonder.
Slowly she parted her lips, the instinct undeniable. She realized what he would think—that she was inviting him to take more.
Perhaps she was.
He accepted.
There was no chance to change her mind. It happened too quickly. A rush of feelings overcame her, too intense, too tantalizing for her thoughts to follow. His tongue teased the contours of her lips before penetrating her mouth in a skillful play that demonstrated his reputation for persuasion.
She had been kissed before. But not like this.
Her mouth had never been seduced with such delicious intensity. His thumb caressed the cleft of her chin, the curls that fell against her shoulder. Shivers spun across her skin like cobwebs. Then slowly he sucked at her lower lip, his arm holding her immobile. His gaze bespoke wicked promises. She felt his intentions in the anticipation that pierced her awareness.
His slight looks had deceived her. Beneath his lithe elegance he was taut and untamed, his sinewy frame chiseled with agile strength. What else did his disguise conceal? Better that she never know. She wouldn’t see him after tonight, anyway.
He gripped her harder.
She did not resist.
He was relentless. The vanquisher with the virgin.
Perhaps he sensed that his kiss had unsteadied her. Perhaps he knew that she would sink to her knees if he released her now. She wasn’t the first woman he’d conquered in a dark corner.
Knight-errant.
He had meant to possess her the moment that their eyes had caught.
His hand caressed her hip. Silently she insisted that he stop. But the words never came. This gentle stroking stole her will. And still she let him kiss her, excitement flooding her veins, pulsing deep inside.
He was not forcing her. But was this surrender? His kiss awakened a part of her she had always known existed.
Why did her sense of passion demand attention now, with this man?
Could she ignore this yearning, or was it already too late? A door opened before her. Was it light inside or a portal to endless dark?
“Let us take off these masks,” he said softly.
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
She didn’t want to be reminded it was only an illusion, the pleasure they shared. It was a fleeting dalliance he would easily forget. To see him unmasked would only strengthen his imprint on her mind. She would forbid herself to think of him after tonight.
“Whatever you want,” he whispered.
A sigh escaped her. She wanted more.
He ravished her mouth with unbearable sweetness. Then he bent his head to her throat. The yearning intensified. She wondered if he guessed how hard her heart was beating. Had she affected him like that, too? She hoped she had. Her body clung to his, scandalously close, close enough that she felt how strong, how male he was. He brushed a strand of sensual kisses from the rise of one shoulder to the other. She thought she might be melting from the inside out.
He kissed a trail to the soft cleavage that rose from her golden underbodice. She drew a breath. His fingers caught her hip harder, crushing her cloak, her gown, her skin. Belatedly she pulled to free herself. Her body trembled.
He grasped her hand, gathering her back against his heat.
“You promised,” she whispered.
“You are safe.”
“You said you would behave.”
“Take my word on it,” he said. “I am stretched on a rack of self-torture. Never have I denied my deepest nature as I am at this moment.”
“Deny yourself, indeed.”
“I am hanging by a thread,” he said softly.
“I trust it is a strong one.”
“It is not the strength of the thread that worries me,” he explained wryly. “It is the power of the one holding it.”
“You look powerful enough to
Slowly she parted her lips, the instinct undeniable. She realized what he would think—that she was inviting him to take more.
Perhaps she was.
He accepted.
There was no chance to change her mind. It happened too quickly. A rush of feelings overcame her, too intense, too tantalizing for her thoughts to follow. His tongue teased the contours of her lips before penetrating her mouth in a skillful play that demonstrated his reputation for persuasion.
She had been kissed before. But not like this.
Her mouth had never been seduced with such delicious intensity. His thumb caressed the cleft of her chin, the curls that fell against her shoulder. Shivers spun across her skin like cobwebs. Then slowly he sucked at her lower lip, his arm holding her immobile. His gaze bespoke wicked promises. She felt his intentions in the anticipation that pierced her awareness.
His slight looks had deceived her. Beneath his lithe elegance he was taut and untamed, his sinewy frame chiseled with agile strength. What else did his disguise conceal? Better that she never know. She wouldn’t see him after tonight, anyway.
He gripped her harder.
She did not resist.
He was relentless. The vanquisher with the virgin.
Perhaps he sensed that his kiss had unsteadied her. Perhaps he knew that she would sink to her knees if he released her now. She wasn’t the first woman he’d conquered in a dark corner.
Knight-errant.
He had meant to possess her the moment that their eyes had caught.
His hand caressed her hip. Silently she insisted that he stop. But the words never came. This gentle stroking stole her will. And still she let him kiss her, excitement flooding her veins, pulsing deep inside.
He was not forcing her. But was this surrender? His kiss awakened a part of her she had always known existed.
Why did her sense of passion demand attention now, with this man?
Could she ignore this yearning, or was it already too late? A door opened before her. Was it light inside or a portal to endless dark?
“Let us take off these masks,” he said softly.
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
She didn’t want to be reminded it was only an illusion, the pleasure they shared. It was a fleeting dalliance he would easily forget. To see him unmasked would only strengthen his imprint on her mind. She would forbid herself to think of him after tonight.
“Whatever you want,” he whispered.
A sigh escaped her. She wanted more.
He ravished her mouth with unbearable sweetness. Then he bent his head to her throat. The yearning intensified. She wondered if he guessed how hard her heart was beating. Had she affected him like that, too? She hoped she had. Her body clung to his, scandalously close, close enough that she felt how strong, how male he was. He brushed a strand of sensual kisses from the rise of one shoulder to the other. She thought she might be melting from the inside out.
He kissed a trail to the soft cleavage that rose from her golden underbodice. She drew a breath. His fingers caught her hip harder, crushing her cloak, her gown, her skin. Belatedly she pulled to free herself. Her body trembled.
He grasped her hand, gathering her back against his heat.
“You promised,” she whispered.
“You are safe.”
“You said you would behave.”
“Take my word on it,” he said. “I am stretched on a rack of self-torture. Never have I denied my deepest nature as I am at this moment.”
“Deny yourself, indeed.”
“I am hanging by a thread,” he said softly.
“I trust it is a strong one.”
“It is not the strength of the thread that worries me,” he explained wryly. “It is the power of the one holding it.”
“You look powerful enough to
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