Page 53 of Lord of Fortune
“And now you’re a poet?”
“My father would be delighted to think so.”
Her soft laughter sang in the dim corridor. “I’m looking forward to meeting your parents.”
“I’m sorry I can’t meet yours.” She sobered, and he wished he hadn’t said that. “I didn’t mean to make you melancholy.”
“You haven’t. I like thinking of them.” Her gaze found his, and a connection between them gathered and held.
“May I kiss you again?” He hadn’t meant to ask, but it suddenly seemed as though he must.
She didn’t break eye contact, and she didn’t blink. “Yes.”
Again, she surprised him. He gently cupped her face and lightly brushed his lips across hers. Their first kiss had been a rush of sensation. This one would be an exploration, a deepening of what they already knew of each other. And he knew enough to realize he was sliding into the promise of something that would bring them both pleasure.
Hell, maybe hewasa poet. A bad one, anyway.
Her lids dropped closed as he tipped his head and pressed his mouth more firmly against hers. Her hands moved under his arms to clasp his back.
He caressed her nape, then trailed the fingers of one hand down her spine. His movement necessitated she move her arm over his, and she did so with alacrity, her palm flattening against the side of his neck just above his cravat so that her flesh and his connected.
The contact caused a shiver that started at the back of his neck and fanned out to every part of him. Before he could recover, her tongue sought entrance to his mouth, and the control he was clinging to faltered.
He surrendered to her kiss, pressing her tight against him as rapture built within him. Kissing Amelia was like nothing he’d ever known. It was sweetness and fire blended with audacity and seduction.
He cradled her head with his left hand, pulling it back slightly as he tasted her mouth. They were close to the door. In fact, she pushed her back against it and pulled at him, her hands clinging tightly to his coat and his nape.
To keep his hand from being pinned between her back and the door, he skimmed his fingers under her arm and over her rib cage. His knuckles brushed the curve of her breast, and he simply couldn’t refuse the temptation.
He tried to cup her from beneath, but her corset prevented such intimacy. Instead, he brushed his hand up to where her flesh peeked above the dainty lace edge of her gown. He ran his thumb over her bare skin and felt her reaction as she withdrew her tongue from his and a low sound formed in her throat.
Emboldened, he slipped his fingers into the top of her gown. She thrust her breasts forward, seeking his touch. It was all he could do to keep from tearing her gown away and feasting on her.
But he wasn’t a brute. Nor did he want to rush this moment. He wanted to savor every touch, every taste. Taking his mouth from hers, he nipped at her chin before kissing along her neck, his tongue and lips sampling her sweet, sensitive flesh.
She gasped softly as her fingers moved into his hair at the back of his head and pressed against his scalp. He needed no further urging. He trailed his mouth down along her collarbone, then lower still until he reached the rise of her breast. He longed to set it free, to find her nipple, to increase her pleasure. Her breathing was rapid now, matching the frenetic beat of his own heart.
He clasped her waist, kneading her through the layers of her clothing. She arched forward again, this time with her pelvis. He groaned quietly, just managing to keep himself in check. But only barely.
Her hand moved down his back and she clutched at his backside, pulling him flush against her. His cock, pressed neatly against her core, pulsed with desire.
This was the moment he’d ask to take her into her room. The moment they’d come together and spend an evening of mutual bliss. But after that evening came the morrow and, with it, the parting.
Only they couldn’t part. Nor did he want to.
His lips stilled against her breast. What the hell was he doing? It was now clear that Amelia was different from any other woman he’d encountered. And what did that mean?
He couldn’t embark on a liaison with her. She was more than that. She was a woman one married.
But hecouldn’tdo that. His life didn’t allow for a wife or a home or a family. She deserved all that and more.
Penn removed his arms from her and took a wobbly step backward.
Her eyes came open, and they were bemused. Her kiss-swollen lips parted, but she didn’t say anything. She simply stared at him as if she were trying to regain her bearings. Which was precisely what he was trying to do.
“I didn’t mean for that to get so…” What? Intense? Passionate? Reckless?All of those.“I should bid you good night.”
She nodded, her eyes flickering with a touch of wariness. “Good night, Penn.”
