Page 26 of One Night of Temptation
She clutched at his back, uncaring about the Runner, their very public location, or the fact that this would be seen as scandalous by everyone she knew. He felt wonderful, and she didn’t want to let him go.
She also had no idea what to do.
Kiss him back.
But how did she do that? She stood on her toes and copied what he was doing, moving her lips and…slightly opening her mouth? Yes, that was it.
Oh!
A soft, wet sensation glided over her lips. His tongue. She mimicked that too, and that brought them together in a blinding moment of heat and need. A dark sound simmered low in his throat. Seductive and enticing, it emboldened her to slide her tongue along his.
He opened his mouth, and his hand moved up her spine to cup her nape. He held her gently but firmly as his tongue explored hers, twisting and gliding, sparking a desperate heat that pooled low in her belly.
It was a heady sensation—joining her body with his and surrendering to temptation.
The kiss ended slightly less abruptly than it began. Again, she followed his lead, slowing her movements and parting from him. But he didn’t go far. His mouth lingered over hers as he turned his head slightly.
“I don’t see him now,” Hugh said.
Disappointment curled through her. If the Runner was gone, there was no reason for them to kiss again. Truly, Hugh hadn’t needed to kiss her in the first place. He was large enough to obscure her from view and give the impression they were engaged in the same activities as the other couples they’d seen along the street.
But she was glad he’d kissed her. She would remember it—him—always.
“That was nice,” she murmured.
He turned his head back toward hers, and she could see the intensity in his gaze despite their location in the shadows. Perhaps it was that she could feel it.
“I must apologize,” he said softly. “Even if it was nice. Protecting you is my primary concern. I was trying to make us blend in.”
“I won’t accept your apology. You’ve given me a night I’ll never forget.”
His mouth curved into a smile, and her chest constricted. She wanted to kiss him again.
“Are you sure he’s gone?” she asked, hoping he wasn’t so they’d have an excuse for another kiss.
He moved slightly to the side, which took his heat away from her. Sticking his head out from the doorway, he looked up and down the street. “I see him way down there. Let us get into the alley.” He clasped her hand, and they set off at their fastest pace yet, crossing Church Street.
The alley was quite narrow, even more so than Ivy Street. There were fewer people, and it was quieter. It was also dark and rather suitable for kissing.
Not that they would be stopping to kiss again. Unless they encountered another Runner, which she didnotwant to do. But if it meant she got to kiss Hugh one more time…
The fantasy she’d indulged earlier returned as they hurried along the slender lane. She could easily imagine Hugh as her husband. They would share wonderful conversations, she would help him with his parishioners, and they would kiss. They would do more than kiss. She knew vaguely what was required to create children, and after that kiss, she wanted to experience it—with him.
She never would, however. She’d never be allowed to marry a man like Hugh. Would he even want to marry her? He’d made it clear he didn’t particularly care for Society or its denizens. That specifically included the ladies who visited his church, of whom she was one. That he seemed to care for her and was keeping her safe reflected his honor, not any affinity he might have for her.
All she had was this night, this fantasy. She planned to cling to it as long as she could.
They followed the alley until they nearly reached Broad Street. A woman’s voice carried down. “Get in the tubnow.”
Hugh paused and looked up at an open window in the first story of the building where the voice had come from. He turned to Penelope. “Would you mind standing over there for a moment?” He gestured toward the building next door. “In the doorway so she can’t see you.”
Penelope moved to where he pointed, and he tipped his head back.
“Good evening, Mrs. Boyle!” he called up to the window.
“Mr. Tarleton, is that you?” The same woman’s voice responded, though Penelope couldn’t see her. That seemed to be the point. Or rather, for the woman not to see Penelope.
“It is. Everything all right?”
