Page 16 of Courting Trouble
“I didn’t ever thank you properly,” she said, pressing her hand to his shoulder. “They whisked me off so quickly to that health clinic in Switzerland, and then to finishing school after that. But… I’ve thought of you often.”
So very often.
He said nothing. Did nothing. Just breathed, or at least fought to do so.
Had he thought of her? She wanted to ask. Did she linger in his mind as he did in hers, like the sweet furloughs of the past? A reassuring memory through a miasma of distress and expectation?
“Titus,” she breathed, her own heartbeat gaining strength, pressing against her ribs. “Titus, look at me.”
His chin touched his shoulder, and she reached out to encourage him to swivel his entire body to face her on the bench.
“I want to thank you,” she said, bracketing his tense jaw with both her silk-gloved hands, searching his uniquely handsome face and finding what she hoped for.
Hope and hunger.
“Thank you foreverything,” she whispered. “For then. For tonight. And…forthis.” Following a reckless, unrelenting longing, she pulled his head lower so her lips could press to his.
She found his mouth harder than she’d expected.
Sweeter, too.
They sat like that for a moment, their lips locked and still, as if waiting for the night to catch its breath, because neither of them seemed to be able to.
Then, his mouth became pliant over hers, before he nudged gently forward.
Moving his lips in subtle, whispering sweeps, he took control of the kiss without even seeming to know he’d done it, drugging her with motions that were as languid as they were astonished.
As certain as they were untried.
His hands drew up her arms, but instead of taking liberties, they settled at the band of skin where the hem of her gloves ended above her elbow but below her sleeve. His thumb stroked lightly there, testing the softness, and eliciting more erotic sensation than she’d thought existed.
She’d somehow known it would be like this. Thathewould be like this. Something inside of her had sensed his need, not strictly by the way he looked at her. But in the way he avoided looking.
As if he didn’t allow himself to want her.
She was a woman aware of her beauty. One who was reminded of it by nearly everyone she met. Usually, selfishly, she wished it were not her defining feature.
Except now.
Because she wanted nothing so much as his desire. The nature of it called to something deep within her. Something as incontrovertible as it was primitive.
And she could do nothing but answer.
When his tongue searched the seam of her lips with a questioning lick, she tentatively opened to him, but not too far. He hovered softly, before venturing into her mouth with the flavor of sweet cream and buttery cake. Not rich like the soufflé they’d had for dessert, but no less delicious.
He didn’t stroke or demand, he merely explored and retreated before daring to do it again.
The taste of him ignited an unbearable ache deep within her that, if fed, would become dangerous for them both.
Suddenly Nora was very aware she’d been gone from her own ball for far too long. That she’d be missed, and people would come looking.
Especially since Michael would have returned and, hopefully, been frightened enough by Titus’s threat, to make his excuses and leave.
Lord, she wished she could stay here. That she could kiss him all night and all the nights after. Indeed, she couldn’t summon the strength to break away.
Seeming to sense this, he reluctantly broke the seal of their mouths, returning to soften the blow with a couple of short, soft tugs with his lips.
She emitted a sigh as he pulled back, thinking he might just be the loveliest being on this earth. A strange and silent creature, as dangerous as he was docile.
