Page 32 of Calling on the Matchmaker
“Well?” His whisper took on a harsher note.
Aye, he was getting mad. She needed to kiss him now. Without another moment of hesitation, she raised onto her toes and touched her lips to his. She wasn’t sure what needed to happennext, had never even witnessed a kiss. But as she pressed a wee bit harder, something powerful pulled her in.
Part of it was his response. It wasn’t the silence, stillness, or disappointment she’d expected. Instead, he lifted a hand to the back of her head, seemed to guide her closer, and angled in to fully capture her mouth with his.
His lips—so warm and tender—plied against hers, and she closed her eyes as a hundred different sensations coursed through her—sensations that were new and exciting and made her body come to life.
The pressure of his mouth somehow deepened, like he would devour her if he could. But at the same time, she could feel his restraint—not only in the kiss but in the banked power of his hand that was gliding down her head.
As his fingers moved to her neck, he didn’t slow his descent. Instead, he skimmed her throat, the touch threatening to make her lose all conscious thought. When he reached her collarbone above the neckline of her gown, she stopped breathing altogether.
With his mouth and his fingers wreaking havoc with her, she trembled with a wanting that frightened her. What was she doing?
More importantly, what washedoing? Why wasn’t he storming off and telling her he never wanted to see her again?
She shoved against his chest.
He removed his hand from her collarbone, and his mouth against hers softened, although it continued to hold her captive.
She had to step away, but his scent and heat and body were so much more alluring than she’d imagined. And she simply wanted to linger.
But in the next instant, his lips against hers began to curl up into the beginning of a smile. Why was he smiling? That hadn’t been the reaction she’d been seeking.
She let go of him and backed up.
Before she could retreat a safe distance, his hands dropped to her hips, spanning her waist on either side. And holy mother have mercy, she loved the pressure of each of his strong fingers, as if he was the master craftsman and she his workmanship. She could just imagine the way he commanded the tools and wood and iron he used every day and knew he would do the same with her.
As though reading every thought running rampant through her head, he started to draw her flush again, his smile quirking higher on one side almost arrogantly.
This time when she looked into his eyes, the blue had lightened, and his attention dropped to her mouth, his desire written blatantly all over his face.
He wasn’t put off by kissing her in the least. In fact, he seemed rather pleased with himself, as if he were a cat who’d just swallowed the canary.
“Don’t forget,” he whispered. “You still need to massage my shoulders, caress my face, and comb your fingers through my hair.”
At his quoting of the last three things on the list in her pocket, she gasped. Then she reached up and slapped him across the cheek.
11
As Finola squirmed to free herself, this time Riley let her go. Even with a smarting cheek, his grin widened.
“Riley Rafferty, you’re worse than a scoundrel.” She stalked toward the settee and halted in front of it, cupping her hands over her cheeks.
They were an adorable pale pink. Her eyes were flashing. And her lips were still full and swollen from their kiss.
Their kiss. Sweet saints above. He wanted another one more than he wanted anything else. At this moment, he had great sympathy for Samson telling Delilah the secret of his strength. If kissing Delilah was anything like kissing Finola, then he was liable to end up a dead man just like Samson. Or he’d lose her, which at this point was looking like a worse alternative than death.
The truth was, the more he was with Finola, the more he wanted her. But the other truth was that she was doing everything she could to cut him out of her life, even going as far as initiating the things on the fake list Lorette had given Madigan.
All evening he’d been waiting for her to make her first move. He wondered how and when she’d find a way to try something, especially because Bellamy had warned Riley before the firstvisit to be on his best behavior and refrain from any display of physical attraction, that James Shanahan put great value on chastity before marriage.
That’s why when Shanahan had settled Finola next to him on the settee and told her she’d be married soon, Riley had been more than a little surprised. When Shanahan had walked out of the room without a glance back, Riley had known then what Shanahan wasn’t saying aloud—that he was giving Riley an opportunity to do whatever he needed to win and keep Finola, including stealing a kiss or two from her.
He’d done well all throughout dinner in curbing any hints of his attraction, had even refrained from picturing Finola in her unmentionables again. But once they’d come into the parlor, he’d been ready to finish the little game she’d started. He needed her to understand that though she might be cunning, he was too, and he would give back the same measure she doled out.
So he’d waited on the settee with her, had expected her to act right away. But he’d been pleasantly surprised she’d taken the time to talk with him and they had deep conversations about important things.
He wasn’t sure why he’d opened up so readily about his family’s move to St. Louis and how his mom and brothers had died. There was something about Finola. Maybe it was that same genuine caring spirit he’d noticed during their first interactions. Whatever it was, he liked it. And he felt comfortable sharing with her in a way he never had with Helen.
