The Millionaire Rogue by Jessica Peterson Page B

turned his head, and with his hand turned her face so that that she matched his movements. For a moment the kiss slowed, and Hope’s hand slipped further toward her. She shivered as his fingers brushed the skin of her neck, his thumb tugging at her earlobe; and then those fingers were tangled in her hair, and he was taking her bottom lip between his own.
    All the while moving slowly, with great intent and concentration. His touch was sure but soft. She drank deeply, her belly turning over at his passion; hers, too.
    Being kissed was wholly different, and God above so much better, than she’d imagined it would be. But even Sophia in her ignorance knew this was no mere kiss, not the kind a debutante would share with a beau. This kiss was too honest and bold. It spoke of forbidden things. Attraction. Desire. A curiosity to push further, and know more.
    Through the pounding of her heart and lips, Sophia heard Princess Caroline making an odd, high-pitched sound. Her blood leapt in dismay at the realization her kiss with Thomas would end.
    He slid his hand back to cup her jaw. He tugged at her lips one last time, his teeth lingering on her bottom lip before he pulled away altogether.
    Sophia opened her eyes, chest heaving in an attempt to catch her breath. Thomas was looking at her, his blue eyes probing and full of concern.
    As if he had anything to be concerned about. The kiss—
his
kiss—it was so deucedly good it left her all but shaking.
    For a moment she was overcome by a sense of wonder. Where had Mr. Hope learned such sensual skill? And how did she get so lucky as to experience it?
    Regardless, Sophia knew one thing for certain.
    She was ruined. Not the kind of ruin that got everyone in the upper ten thousand, her mother especially, so excited. No.
    She was ruined for whichever poor marquess or earl’s son whom she (hopefully) married. For there was no way on God’s green earth that anyone could possibly kiss as well as Mr. Thomas Hope, that any man could thrill her with his lips alone as he had done.
    She wanted to throttle him for giving her a taste of something that could never be hers.
    Looking into his eyes, she also wanted to beg him to do it again, right here in front of the princess, that diamond be damned. Beg him to kiss her again, and show her everything that came after.
    She blinked, a small smile creeping to her lips.
    Thomas let out a sigh of relief and returned her smile, the creases at the edges of his eyes deepening with laughter.
    Why had Sophia never noticed how handsome he was until now?
    Together they turned to face Princess Caroline, who was weeping noisily into the bowl of her hands.
    Sophia handed Her Majesty the handkerchief Hope had given her moments earlier.
    Caroline took it and blew her nose into it, making a very unladylike honking sound as she did so. Sophia bit her lip to keep from laughing.
    â€œOh, lovers, don’t mind me.” The princess waved the sodden handkerchief at no one in particular. “That kiss, God save me! I can see the love you bear one another. It is a—a”—here her voice faltered—“a beautiful thing!”
    She collapsed into sobs. Mr. Hope wasted no time. He stood and patted the princess on the shoulder, whispering assurances in her ear—something about love, and life’s journey, and the prince regent coming around.
    Caroline gazed upon him with a watery smile, and thanked him for his kind words. She looked to Sophia, blotting her red eyes with the handkerchief, and sniffled.
    â€œHow lucky you are, dear girl, to be loved by a man like Hope,” she said. She paused to blow her nose again. “In this world romance is all but dead. But in his eyes, I see it is alive. Oh, lovers!”
    Again the sobs; again, Mr. Hope whispering kind words in her ear. The princess wiped at her eyes, smudging one of her eyebrows so that it appeared a slightly askew comma, hung high in the middle of her forehead.
    Mr. Hope