caught up in that single word. Tempted. Had he known that was what she was thinking? Did he know he tempted her?
âIâm not interested in temptation,â she murmured, wondering why her voice was so soft. She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. Against her will, she found herself staring into his eyes, watching the fire reflected there. The light seemed to dance about, then darken. The night closed in around them. She could feel the heat from the fireplace behind her and the heat of the man. It was like a dream where she couldnât move, couldnât call out. Could only bravely accept her fate.
But instead of the frightening demons of her dreams, she only had to face Justin. Not so difficult a task.
âIâm interested,â he said, reaching his hand up to cup her face. His lean fingers held her gently. She felt the rough calluses against her skin.
âIn what?â she asked.
âTemptation.â
His face drew closer. The flames in his eyes grew brighter. She vaguely thought it couldnât just be the reflection of the fire behind her, it had to be something else, something...
When his lips touched hers, all conscious thought fled. Her eyelids must have closed for she could see nothing, hear nothing. There was only the moment and the flood of memories filling her with the bittersweet taste of the past.
His mouth was firm, yet yielding. The powerful passion she recalled was now carefully controlled. He brushed across her mouth, back and forth as if familiarizing himself with her. She raised herself on tiptoe to mold her shape to his. The correct and proper side of herself screamed it was foolish and wrong to be doing this. She didnât care.
Justin wrapped his arms around her shoulders and drew her closer. From chest to knees they touched. Through the layers of her skirt and petticoats, she couldnât feel much but the general shape of him, but he was all she remembered him to be. The rightness of it brought a burning to her eyes.
She wanted to hold him, as well, but couldnât bring herself to acquiesce that much. She held her arms at her sides, her hands curled into tight fists.
His fingers slipped under her chignon and kneaded the back of her neck. He moved down her spine, touching, pulling her even closer. His mouth angled against hers, his lips pressing harder now, taunting her with passion.
It wasnât supposed to feel so good. Other men had kissed her. Not many, but one or two. Why did he have to be the one who made her feel this way? She swallowed her cry of protest against this cruel trick of fate.
His hands encircled her waist. Her breathing came faster now. He dipped his head lower, moving his mouth to her jaw, then down her neck to the collar of her dress. She arched against him, ignoring the way her movement caused her corset to dig into her. The pain didnât matter, and neither did the fact she couldnât draw in a deep enough breath. When he returned his lips to hers and his tongue swept across her sensitized skin, she released her last hold on sanity. Her mouth parted and her arms came up toward him.
As he dipped inside, she prepared herself for the onslaught of madness. He would make her forget herself, forget everything, and she didnât care at all.
Her hands splayed across his chest, feeling the strength of him concealed only by his white shirt and long underwear. He was hard to her soft, angles and planes where she was curves and swells. She reached under his coat to hug him tighter, all the while savoring his kiss. She moved her hands over his ribs and bumped something in his pocket.
The lump moved, then meowed softly and stretched. Justin broke their kiss.
âWhatâs that?â she asked as soon as she could get her mouth working again.
He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a tiny calico kitten. âHer mother was a good mouser. I thought you might like her.â He grimaced. âIâm sorry about what
âIâm not interested in temptation,â she murmured, wondering why her voice was so soft. She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. Against her will, she found herself staring into his eyes, watching the fire reflected there. The light seemed to dance about, then darken. The night closed in around them. She could feel the heat from the fireplace behind her and the heat of the man. It was like a dream where she couldnât move, couldnât call out. Could only bravely accept her fate.
But instead of the frightening demons of her dreams, she only had to face Justin. Not so difficult a task.
âIâm interested,â he said, reaching his hand up to cup her face. His lean fingers held her gently. She felt the rough calluses against her skin.
âIn what?â she asked.
âTemptation.â
His face drew closer. The flames in his eyes grew brighter. She vaguely thought it couldnât just be the reflection of the fire behind her, it had to be something else, something...
When his lips touched hers, all conscious thought fled. Her eyelids must have closed for she could see nothing, hear nothing. There was only the moment and the flood of memories filling her with the bittersweet taste of the past.
His mouth was firm, yet yielding. The powerful passion she recalled was now carefully controlled. He brushed across her mouth, back and forth as if familiarizing himself with her. She raised herself on tiptoe to mold her shape to his. The correct and proper side of herself screamed it was foolish and wrong to be doing this. She didnât care.
Justin wrapped his arms around her shoulders and drew her closer. From chest to knees they touched. Through the layers of her skirt and petticoats, she couldnât feel much but the general shape of him, but he was all she remembered him to be. The rightness of it brought a burning to her eyes.
She wanted to hold him, as well, but couldnât bring herself to acquiesce that much. She held her arms at her sides, her hands curled into tight fists.
His fingers slipped under her chignon and kneaded the back of her neck. He moved down her spine, touching, pulling her even closer. His mouth angled against hers, his lips pressing harder now, taunting her with passion.
It wasnât supposed to feel so good. Other men had kissed her. Not many, but one or two. Why did he have to be the one who made her feel this way? She swallowed her cry of protest against this cruel trick of fate.
His hands encircled her waist. Her breathing came faster now. He dipped his head lower, moving his mouth to her jaw, then down her neck to the collar of her dress. She arched against him, ignoring the way her movement caused her corset to dig into her. The pain didnât matter, and neither did the fact she couldnât draw in a deep enough breath. When he returned his lips to hers and his tongue swept across her sensitized skin, she released her last hold on sanity. Her mouth parted and her arms came up toward him.
As he dipped inside, she prepared herself for the onslaught of madness. He would make her forget herself, forget everything, and she didnât care at all.
Her hands splayed across his chest, feeling the strength of him concealed only by his white shirt and long underwear. He was hard to her soft, angles and planes where she was curves and swells. She reached under his coat to hug him tighter, all the while savoring his kiss. She moved her hands over his ribs and bumped something in his pocket.
The lump moved, then meowed softly and stretched. Justin broke their kiss.
âWhatâs that?â she asked as soon as she could get her mouth working again.
He reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a tiny calico kitten. âHer mother was a good mouser. I thought you might like her.â He grimaced. âIâm sorry about what
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