Page 28 of The Secrets He Keeps

What would he find most compelling?

Her stomach tightened. Would he choose to partake in the many wicked delights Pendragon’s offered in abundance?

The urge to claim him for her own rose fiercely inside her. Now that she’d embraced the decision to accept him as her lover, she had to fight against a sense of possession. He did not belong to her any more than she would belong to him. No matter how intensely she was compelled to claim that right.

She paused in the midst of lifting her glass for another sip as a distinguished male form clothed in elegant black evening wear that accented the silver of his hair and the magnetic light in his eyes moved into the open doorway.

He stood there for a moment as his steady focused gaze moved slowly over the curves and dips of her body showcased to perfection by blood-red silk.

Though she felt the heat of his desire like flames licking over her skin, she responded to his appearance with a lift of her brow. Rolling to one side, she propped herself up on an elbow and noted smoothly, “The party is downstairs.”

“I’m not here for the party.” Understated confidence flowed through his words. And hunger. Heavy, rich hunger.

For the first time, she allowed some of her own hunger to reflect in her eyes. “I hope you allowed yourself a moment to take in the various delights I offer my guests.”

He took a slow step into the room, then another. His gaze never leaving hers as he crossed the thick carpet. “What I want isn’t being offered below.”

“Is that so?” she asked with a quirk of her lips.

His smile was slow. Assured. Seductive. Did he already suspect why he’d been invited tonight?

“You know it is,” he replied.

“What else do I know?”

Reaching the chaise, he extended one of his gloveless hands.

There was no hesitation as she slid her bare fingers along his palm until his hand enclosed hers and he brought her slowly to her feet. Without a word, he took her wineglass and set it on the table beside them. Then he lifted her hand to his mouth, where he pressed his warm lips to the center of her palm.

His silvery eyes held a quiet, unshakeable intention. But it was unhurried and calm. So unlike the riot erupting in her core. A part of her wanted him to sweep her off her feet, maybe toss her over his shoulder or take her to the floor right there in the middle of her library as he covered her mouth in a deep, claiming kiss. But another part of her held her breath and urged her to patience.

His voice was gruff and weighted when he finally replied. “You had to know I would find you.”

She hadn’t, actually. But she realized now that she’d hoped he would.

“Just as you know I am about to kiss you.”

Callista lifted her chin as her lashes swept over a narrowed gaze and her lips parted. She felt no need to respond as his attention fell from her eyes to her mouth. She watched with thrills livening her blood as his pupils dilated and his nostrils flared.

Take it. The private thought came out in a husky murmur she hadn’t intended to voice out loud. But then she was glad she did because a gravelly moan rolled from his throat as he took her face in his hands and claimed her mouth in a kiss that was deep, hot, and mind-melting.

As she slid one hand up and around his neck, she flattened her other palm to his chest, seeking the subtle rhythm of his heart as she gave herself over to the delicious skill he employed with his lips, tongue, and teeth. He immediately shifted to wrap his arms fully around her, one bracing behind her shoulders, the other encircling the narrow span of her tightly corseted waist to hold her close. Body to body. Breath to breath.

As hot as the kiss was to start, it grew even hotter. The flames of long-denied desire leaping to new heights within seconds.

Just when she thought she might drown in the maelstrom of need flowing through her, he slid his mouth to the side of her throat, then lower, where he paused to scrape his teeth delicately along the muscle connecting neck to shoulder before he placed a warm kiss just above the draping, wispy sleeve of her gown. The delicate caress caused shivers to cascade down her spine.

The hand she’d been resting against his chest curled into claws and her fingernails dug into the expensive fabric of his coat.

Lifting his head, he rested his mouth against the sensitive shell of her ear. “Most importantly,” he whispered roughly, “you know the one thing I do not.”

“What’s that?” she asked. Her voice breathless and heavy.

“What happens next.”

She opened her eyes to find him staring intently at her face. His eyes were hard and hot. His jaw was tense with need, his lips firm, and his breath subtly ragged.

“But you’ve known what would happen all along, Mr. Maxwell.”

---