Page 26 of Sinfully Mine
Their lips were barely inches apart, so close his breath mingled with hers. Hester’s gaze dropped to the sensual curve of his mouth, seeing just a spot of purple and had the strangest urge to touch the bit of wine with her tongue. The mossy gaze caught her staring at his mouth.
Hester could drown in all that green, like an endless meadow of late summer grass.
“I—a thump against the side of the house woke me,” she answered. “I found tracks around the chicken enclosure the other day. A fox, probably. But I worried for King George and the hens. I thought I could frighten whatever it was, away.”
“In your nightgown? Barely clothed? His eyes dipped to her breasts, the heat flaring in their depths unmistakable.
She gasped as Sinclair tugged on her wrist, pulling her closer until Hester was nearly on his lap. Her heart skipped inside her chest as his beautiful mouth met hers.
Oh.
Not a kiss, but more a caress across her lips. Soft. Coaxing her to kiss him back.
Hester tumbled into his lap, the tips of her breasts pushing impudently into his chest until the sensitive tips pebbled. A soft whimper left her as the sensation lazily floated down to settle between her thighs. His tongue trailed along the seam of Hester’s mouth, tasting of wine and sin, sending a quiver down to the base of her spine.
One big hand cupped the line of her jaw, thumb teasing gently at the curve of her cheek. Another sound left her, this one of utter surrender as she melted into his warmth. Hester could hardly believe that his beautiful man was kissing her.
She wiggled on his lap.
And wanted her. His desire was poking her in the bottom.
His free hand moved up the length of her thigh, pausing only to press the pads of his fingers into the flesh. A growl left him and he pulled her tighter, before slowly moving up to cup her breast. Rolling and testing the weight of the small mound, his fingers toyed with the edge of one nipple until a sigh left her.
The place between Hester’s thighs grew slick, the need to press her naked body closer to his taking up a steady, unrelenting rhythm inside her. She knew what lie beneath the shirt clasped in her fingers. All of it glorious. Her mind had stopped working properly, slowing under the sensual assault of her body.
Hester’s eyes flew open in surprise as he pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, the pleasurable sting making her back arch.
Which was when she caught sight of the ledgers open and strewn across her desk.
Instantly, Hester pushed away from Sinclair, shaking away the muddled haze of sensuality he’d woven about her. She slapped at the hand still on her naked breast.
My God. I was ready to let him bed me.
“Calculating my worth, are you?” She hopped from his lap clumsily, tossing the wet rag at his chest. Horrified at what she’d almost done. This was Andrew Sinclair, the man who was determined to sell her home. That is all Blackbird Heath was to him, a pile of money waiting to be wasted on a wager on some stupid horse at Newmarket. Or the turn of a card.
“Reviewing the ledgers, which I have a right to do since,” his voice raised slightly, “I own Blackbird Heath. Until I don’t.” His anger matched her own. “Isn’t that right, Hester? After all, I was just nearly bludgeoned to death.”
She drew in a furious breath. “Bludgeoned? You’ve had too much to drink, more likely and ran into the side of the house.”
Sinclair raised a brow. “I did not bludgeon myself against the bloody house. And I’m not foxed. I merely find your timing to be convenient.”
Hester’s eyes widened. “If I were seeking tobludgeonyou, Sinclair, I would not miss. I doubt I’m the only enemy you’ve made since coming to Horncastle.”
“Enemies?” Sinclair’s seductive gaze dropped to her mouth once more. “I thought we were starting to work out our differences.”
Could a person’s head explode, merely from being taunted? Hester had to restrain herself from slapping at the smirk twisting Sinclair’s lips.
“We are certainly not friends.” Hester whirled on her heel. “Nor anything else.” Her entire body still pulsed from his touch, aching and raw. Lips still swollen and tingling from the magnificent claiming of his. Her own loss of control was terrifying. He would have only had to lift her nightgown and Hester would have cheerfully bedded him.
And she’d thought selling Blackbird Heath was the worst Sinclair could do.
Chapter Fourteen
“Sinclair.” Worth hoppedout of the carriage and onto the gravel drive to stand before Drew. “So,thisis Blackbird Heath.” He nodded slowly. “Quite a bit more than a farm but less than a complete estate, I think.” Turning around, his friend took in the fields spread out on either side. “I was expecting something more rustic but with more servants.”
“I’m happy to disappoint.” Drew shook his hand. “I’m glad you could come, Worth.”
Mr. Charles Worthington was the second son of a viscount, cheerful in the knowledge that his staid older brother had inherited the title and left Worth to do as he pleased. He was brilliant, cultured, and a devil where women were concerned. Something he and Drew had in common. But Worth also possessed a keen sense of business, unfailingly able to discern whether an opportunity had enough value to invest in.
