Page 83 of Miss Prim and the Duke of Wylde
He drained the glass, then Meg was there, removing it from his grasp. He’d been talking to Aidan and Evan while she’d been chatting to several of her female peers, including her two bridesmaids.
With a nod to Aidan and Evan, she took Drago’s hand. “Come along.”
He threw a laughing exculpatory look at Aidan and Evan, who both grinned, then Meg towed him toward the wall, set the empty glass on a sideboard, and continued to a paneled door that she opened, then she drew him on, into the corridor beyond.
He shut the door behind them. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
He’d started wondering—speculating—even before they reached the small parlor at the rear of the large house.
She drew him over the threshold, then whirled around him and closed the door.
No lamps were lit, but moonlight poured through the uncurtained bay window.
He turned to her—just in time to catch her as she flung herself at him, anchored his face between her palms, and kissed him with a degree of innocent enthusiasm that caused his lungs to seize and wiped every last thought from his brain.
They could count the number of times they’d kissed on the fingers of one hand. And up to now, it had been he who had initiated every exchange, stealing kisses when the situation allowed. The places and company in which they’d found themselves, day after day, evening after evening, hadn’t offered many opportunities, even for a kiss.
He wanted—lusted for—more, much more, and apparently, she did, too.
Typically, she’d seized the reins and was intent on steering them…he wasn’t sure to where.
Regardless of what she had in mind, he wasn’t about to complain.
Swamped by the unexpected heat of the engagement and aware of her escalating demands, he nevertheless took a few seconds to savor the moment, to register and appreciate the supple curvaceous body impressing itself against his harder frame…
She made a frustrated sound, one he understood, and obedient to her prompting, he caught her face between his palms and took control of the kiss.
He increased the subtle pressure on her lips, and on a sigh, she let him in. He sent his tongue questing, then tangling with hers, luring her, teaching her, and delighting in her eager responses.
Her mouth was a cornucopia of delight, then her hands fell from his face to rest on the upper planes of his chest, and the simple accepting touch spurred him on.
He angled his head, deepening the kiss, then let his hands drift from her face. With his palms, he traced the alluring curves of her nearly bare shoulders, then paused the delicate caress, even while he continued to engage her in the kiss, waiting, wondering…
She stepped into him, a deliberate incitement that left no room for doubt.
Slanting his lips over hers, he slid one arm around her waist, cinched her to him, then turned her in to the darkened parlor.
A large armchair with a high back was positioned facing the windows. Without breaking from the kiss, he steered her around to the front of the chair, then sat and drew her down with him, and still holding to the kiss, she settled on his lap.
Meg approved of his sense in sitting; she hadn’t been sure how much longer her legs would hold her. With just a kiss, he seemed able to sap her strength and turn her muscles to jelly.
He truly was a master, and she’d been itching—simplyitching—to have him take her just a little further, to explore at least the threshold of what waited for her on their wedding night.
This evening, with so many of her familial peers—so many married and therefore far more knowing than she—all around her, she’d lost patience and decided she simply had to know…more.
At least as much as he could and would show her in this parlor.
Seated on his hard thighs, she wriggled so she was facing him more fully, so she could prosecute her demands more effectively through their kiss.
More. Now.
The words resonated in her head, beat in her blood, and—thank God—he seemed to hear.
His lips moved on hers, almost teasingly languid now, tempting her to fall even further under his spell.
She went willingly, wanting to know, then with one hand cradling her jaw, holding her face at just the right angle so he could plunder her mouth, from where it had been gripping her waist, his other hand rose, skating over the taut silk of her bodice to skim over the curve of her breast.
