Sylvia Day - [Georgian 03] by A Passion for Him Page B

girlish. They are a man’s dreams, Amelia. ”
    “Such as what you were doing to that girl?” Her lower lip quivered, and she bit down on it to hide the betraying movement. Her mind flooded with the painful memories, adding to the turmoil wrought by the unfamiliar cravings of her body and the pleading demands of her heart. “Do you dream about her, too?”
    Colin caught her wrist again. “Never.”
    He kissed her, lighter in pressure and urgency than before, but no less passionately. Soft as a butterfly’s wings, his lips brushed back and forth across hers, his tongue dipping inside, then retreating. It was a reverent kiss, and her lonely heart soaked it up like the desert floor soaked rain.
    Cupping her face in his hands, he breathed, “ This is making love, Amelia. ”
    “Tell me you don’t kiss her like this. ” She cried softly, her nails digging into his back through his sweater.
    “I don’t kiss anyone. I never have. ” His forehead pressed against hers. “Only you. It’s only ever been you. ”
     
    Amelia jerked awake with a violent start, her heart racing with the remnants of adolescent passion and yearning. Tossing back the covers, she sat up, allowing the chilly night air to seep through her thin night rail to her perspiration-damp skin. She lifted shaking fingertips to her lips, pressing hard against the swollen curves in an effort to stem their tingling.
    The dream had been so vivid. She imagined that she could still taste Colin, a heady exotic flavor that she craved to this day. It had been years since she’d been plagued with such recollections. She’d thought they were fading, that perhaps she might be healing. Finally.
    Why now? Was it because she had agreed to proceed with the wedding? Was Colin’s memory rearing up and demanding that the love of her life not be set aside?
    Amelia closed her eyes and saw a white mask above shamelessly sensual lips.
    Montoya.
    His kiss had made her tingle as well. From head to toe and everywhere in between.
    She had to find him. She would find him.
     
    “What does he say?”
    Colin refolded the missive carefully and tucked it into a drawer of his desk. He looked at Jacques. “He believes Cartland is leading a group of men here in England.”
    “He will not want to bring you back alive.” Jacques walked over to the window and brushed the sheer panel aside to look down at the front drive.
    The town house they occupied was a rental in fine shape. It was a short distance from the city, near enough to be convenient, but far enough away to ensure that no one would find them noteworthy. The distance also allowed them to ascertain if they were being followed or not, which Colin had been just a few nights past. The night he had danced with and kissed Amelia.
    “It is good that you stay indoors during the day,” Jacques said, turning back to face him again. “You are being hunted on all sides.”
    Shaking his head, Colin closed his eyes and leaned into the back of his chair. “It was foolish of me to seek her out that way. Now I have attracted St. John’s attention, and he will not rest until he knows why I displayed such interest in her.”
    “She is a beautiful woman,” Jacques said, his voice laced with a Frenchman’s innate appreciation of such delights.
    “Yes, she is.”
    Beyond beautiful. Dear God, how was it possible for a woman to be so perfect? Stunning green eyes framed by sooty lashes. An imminently kissable mouth. Creamy skin, and the fully ripened curves of a woman grown. All carried with an air of latent sensuality that he had always found alluring.
    He could admit now that his attendance at the ball had been goaded by his hope that he would see her and find his attraction unfounded. Perhaps absence had made his heart too fond. Perhaps he had embellished her memory in his mind.
    “But that is not why you love her,” Jacques murmured.
    “No,” Colin agreed, “it’s not.”
    “I have rarely seen a woman with such yearning in her soul.