Page 52 of Guilty Pleasures

“And you say you do not enjoy all the attention you receive.”

He pulled her another inch closer. “Ah, but Daphne, being considered a good lover is far more gratifying to a man than any other sort of gossip that might be said about him.”

He thought he heard her catch her breath, but he could not be certain. Her reply, when it came, was cool and prim, but it was belied by the tease in her eyes. “They will not hear about your skill at kissing from me, your grace.”

“You do not kiss and tell?”

“No.” Her lashes lowered, then lifted as she met his gaze. “Besides, if you wish me to stay longer, you need to offer me far more tempting bait than a mere kiss.”

He could. Ideas flashed across his mind of all the places he could kiss her—the velvety skin of her earlobes and the silken strands of her hair, the insides of her wrists and the round curves of her cheeks.

His imagination went wild. Her full breasts, rosy nipples hard and aroused by his mouth. The dent at the base of her spine and the dip of her navel. Curls of golden brown and the sweet, hot cleft at the apex of her thighs.

“A mere kiss,” he said, his voice sounding strangled to his own ears, “can be far more tempting than you realize.”

Somehow, they had stopped dancing again. Some way, he had brought them to a standstill without even realizing it. Somewhere in the far distance, he could hear the music slowly come to a halt.

He was going to kiss her again. He was going to let desire have the upper hand again, if only for a few stolen moments. He could keep his wits.

Just one kiss. Just one. He bent his head.

“The music stopped.” She pulled back and turned away, then took one step toward the musical box on the mantel.

He would not let her take another. He wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her hard against him. Both of them froze, her back pressed to his chest.

He closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of gardenia. Her hair felt soft, so soft, beneath his jaw. He could feel her breath quickening beneath his arm and the press of her buttocks against the tops of his thighs. The underside of her breast was warm against his thumb. All he had to do was lift his hand a little higher.

He leaned back a bit instead and opened his eyes. His throat went dry as he stared at the exposed skin along the back of her neck. Her hair was fashioned into intricate twists and puffs at the back of her head that Ella must have created for her. Tiny pewter combs somehow held it all in place, and it gleamed in the candlelight like amber. He wanted to take it down, slide his fingers through the heavy mass of it. Instead, he lowered his head to kiss the back of her neck. The tendons there were as tight as harp strings.

“Are you certain another kiss would not tempt you?” he asked and tilted his head to press his lips to the column of her throat.

“Not another month,” she whispered over her shoulder. “The kiss wasn’t that good.”

He laughed softly, blowing warm breath into her ear. “Only the most extraordinary moment of your life,” he whispered back. “I cannot recall any woman ever giving me a higher compliment than that one, Daphne.”

He flicked his tongue against her earlobe, and she gave a shivery little gasp, but she still tried to spar with him. “I said ... it was . . . was one of the most extraordinary moments. One of m-many. I have had others, you know.”

“Have you?”

“Besides, I think two minutes was . . . gen . . . generous of me. I believe you should find kissing me to be its own reward.”

Reward? He was rock-hard against the base of her spine, and he was shaking with the effort of holding back. This was torture, not a reward. Nonetheless, at this moment, if she were to demand a month back in exchange for letting him stand here and hold her like this, he would agree. God, yes. In a heartbeat.

He moved his hand, cupping her breast in the V of his thumb and forefinger. That startled her, and she turned around in his embrace, her hands coming up between them in a defensive move, flattening against his chest as if to push him away.

He could not let her. Not yet. “Is it my reward?” he asked, sliding his arms around her waist. He lowered his head. “Show me.”

His lips grazed hers, parted over hers. As he kissed her, he moved his fingers up and down her spine in lazy, circular caresses, but Daphne did not move. She did not kiss him back. Instead, she remained rigid and still, her lips pressed tight together.

Now that he had given in to this temptation, the last thing Anthony wanted was resistance, and he knew he needed to entice her if he were to savor this delight a little longer. He brought his hands to her face and caressed her cheeks with the tips of his fingers as he ran his tongue lightly over her lips, back and forth, again and again, coaxing her to yield.

Her lips trembled, softened, the first response to the feather-light caress of his tongue against her mouth, but she was not ready to give in. He opened his mouth against her closed one. “Daphne, Daphne, kiss me back. I will even say please.”

“I—” She broke off, but just the sound parted her lips against his, and he took advantage of it, deepening the kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth as he felt her rigid pose softening. He lowered his hands to her waist and leaned his body into hers, stepping forward, pushing her back, one step and then another, until she was against the wall. Her fingers curled into his shirt, grasping folds of fabric, pulling him. Her mouth opened wider against his, her tongue meeting his. Silent permission. He grasped her wrists and laced his fingers with hers, pulling their joined hands downward, breathing in the essence of her, as bit by bit, she relaxed in his hold and her body yielded to his.

He let go of her hands, wrapping one arm around her waist and sliding his free hand up along her ribs. Thank God she had not taken his advice about the stays; the last thing he wanted right now was that sort of impediment. His hand moved higher to embrace the full, round shape of her breast, her nipple hard against his palm. Only two layers of fabric between sanity and madness.

I will stop , he promised her silently. I will .

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