To All the Rakes I've Loved Before (A Honeycote Novella) by Anne Barton

back of her head with one hand. With the other, he traced the tender spot on her neck where her pulse beat. The air between them crackled with desire. His cock grew harder, so much so, it was probably tenting the front of his robe.
    And then Amelia’s gaze drifted to his mouth. His last ounce of self-control disintegrated.
    Quickly—before good sense or reason could intrude—he kissed her.
    Her lips tasted like ripe strawberries and cream. She released a sigh, soft and low, that set his blood on fire. He thrust his fingers into her silky hair and growled when several heavy tresses fell free. He skimmed a hand over her bottom, pulling her hips to his, letting her feel his desire.
    She didn’t resist when he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, but melted into him, pressing her breasts into his chest and letting her hands roam over his back. Her passion may have been as unpracticed as her dance steps, but she was a quick study.
    And she kissed even better than she waltzed.
    Their lips still locked together, he slowly guided her back to the settee and laid her against the pillows, which were an appropriately sinful shade of red.
    When at last he slowed the kiss and lifted his head, they were both breathing hard. “You said you wanted me to be honest with you,” he said.
    “Always. Unless you’re about to tell me that I’m kissing incorrectly. That would be beyond humiliating.”
    “Trust me. You’re doing everything right. What I wanted to tell you is that ever since you touched me—the first night I spent here—I’ve dreamed about touching you.”
    “I don’t know what came over me that night. Do you think you might forget about that?”
    “Not likely,” he said.
    “No,” she said, a sultry smile lighting her face. “I don’t think I shall either. I confess I am curious.”
    “About…?”
    “Men, I suppose. But mostly about you.”
    His chest swelled a little at that. “What are you curious to know?”
    “How passion feels.” She blinked like she couldn’t quite believe she’d said the words aloud.
    Stephen strove for a casual tone. “What shall we do about it?”
    “The proper thing would be to suppress our wicked desires.” She walked two fingers up his chest till she reached the skin above his collar, then skimmed her palm along the side of his neck. Her eyes glowed with undisguised feminine appreciation. “I should scold you for your depraved behavior and send you upstairs without dinner while I go for a brisk walk.”
    “Lord knows you should.” He sat up to give her some space and let her head clear. “We can do that Amelia. We can stop right now. You’ve shown me nothing but kindness, understanding, and generosity, and I’m sorry I haven’t acted like a gentleman. But the last thing I’d want to do is seduce you… unless you want to be seduced.”
    “I think I do,” she said. “The kissing was so… so… pleasurable.”
    He reached out and swept the pad of his thumb over her swollen lips. “It was indeed.”
    “We could do more of that,” she said. “And I’m curious about what there is beyond kissing. I’ve no wish to be ruined entirely, you understand, but I should like to experience passion.” Her chocolate eyes—made darker by desire—gazed deeply into his. “I trust you.”
    This beauty had more faith in him than he had in himself. He wouldn’t let her down. But midday in the drawing room was neither the time nor place for an introduction to pleasure.
    “I’ll come to your room tonight, about an hour after the servants have gone to bed. If you change your mind, you need only lock your door.”
    “I won’t change my mind.”
    “Very well.” He kissed her, long and slow, letting their tongues tangle before pulling away. “Until tonight.”
    She placed a palm on the curve of his ass and gave it a firm squeeze. “Until tonight,” she said, grinning.
    As Stephen left her, reclining seductively on the sofa, he suspected tonight would prove as