Page 43 of Tempting the Earl

Desire. Raw and hungry and too long denied.

Chapter Fourteen

Finally!

The word tumbled repeatedly through Colin’s mind as he furiously soaked up every bit of sensation pummeling his awareness. The softness and warmth of her curves fitting along his body. The subtle tug of her hands on his clothing. The sound of her breath as her lips parted to draw a swift inhale. The taste of her when he finally—finally!—slipped his tongue into her mouth.

Vanilla. Sweet and heady and utterly intoxicating.

Moments ago, he’d felt the sudden shift in her focus as they’d stared at each other. One minute, her expression and tone had been filled with quiet concern and thoughtful awareness. In the next, her eyes had flared with something bright and provoking. When she’d dropped her attention to his mouth, he’d noticed the flutter of her pulse and the swift dilation of her pupils. And his body had responded instinctively with a rush of heat and aching pressure.

But he’d still been completely surprised by her impulsive kiss.

Surprised and totally overcome.

Because although he’d acknowledged his attraction to the woman some time ago, he hadn’t realized just how acutely he’d been craving the feel of her, the taste of her, the scent and sound of her. Like this. In his arms. Under his mouth.

He had no idea what had prompted her kiss, but he wasn’t about to analyze it now.

Instead, he flicked his tongue against the edge of her teeth, asking her to open to him.

She made a soft sound in the base of her throat. He didn’t know if it was a protest or an indication of surrender, but before he could make the decision to slow his passionate advance, he felt the tentative, silken glide of her tongue along his. A shock of pleasure shot through him and he could no longer hold back the rumble of satisfaction rolling through his chest than he could stop himself from grasping the curve of her lush bottom in one hand to hold her more securely against his hardening cock.

A gasp escaped her lips at the intimate contact and he worried he’d gone too far. But he couldn’t take it back and didn’t want to. In fact, he wanted more.

All his life he’d devoted himself to self-control. He’d forced his emotions to the farthest corners of his awareness so as not to give fuel to his father’s constant ridicule. He’d accepted every cruel disappointment and every bit of joy and pleasure with equally measured responses. He’d so long avoided any display of vulnerability or yearning or loss that he’d almost forgotten what those things felt like.

Even desire had become more about routine physical release than any true passion.

He’d managed such things for so long, he now found himself at an utter loss on how to handle this total lack of control. The intensity of his need shocked him. Yet, his instinct wasn’t to bank the fire. He wanted to fan the flames until they were both mindless and lost in sensation.

So, when she signaled her own rising desire by sliding her arms up around his neck and tilting her head to boldly dart her tongue into his mouth, he didn’t hesitate. He took her buttocks in both hands and lifted her to the table top. Her legs parted naturally to allow him space between them and he stepped into the cradle of her thighs with a heavy groan.

God, she was so warm and welcoming.

She arched her back, pressing her full breasts to his chest, and another bolt of lightning shot through him, igniting every nerve, tightening his belly, hardening him to stone.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew how dangerous this was—how reckless and selfish it was to take such pleasure in her kiss when there was so much at stake between them. But he willfully ignored the subtle warnings. He’d been playing it safe all his life. He simply had no willpower left to deny this.

As her fingers kneaded the back of his neck in an urgent pleading, he brought his hands to her knees to shove her skirts up her thighs until the material gathered across her lap. His thumbs brushed against bare skin.

He broke from the kiss, desperately needing to catch his breath. But he didn’t pull away. With his hands wrapped firmly around her bare upper thighs, he rested his forehead against hers and listened to her rapid inhales and exhales. Opening his eyes, he saw the curve of her lashes as they fluttered against her gently freckled cheeks. He watched as she licked her lips and moaned so softly he might not have heard it—even as close as they were—if he hadn’t been so intensely attuned to her.

Was she tasting him there?

His balls tightened and he drew a swift breath then said the first thing that came to mind. “You’re not wearing stockings.” He glanced down at her feet. “Or shoes.”

She gave a shaky laugh. “Does that shock you?”

He couldn’t answer. Not because he was shocked but because the thought of her being naked beneath her skirts caused a swift rise of hot lust through his body.

Forcing his attention away from the erotic sight of her lush thighs held firmly in his hands, he brought his gaze to hers. Her eyes were soft and warm and bright in the low light of the kitchen. They seemed to peer straight into him. Past the façade he’d worn so long, past the breathless heat of the moment, past the weight of concern that had taken up permanent residence in his soul since he’d learned of his father’s past offenses.

After a moment, she sighed and lowered her hands to his shoulders. Then she laughed. A light, breathy sound that shifted briefly into a quiet, barely perceptible moan before she stopped it with a press of her lips.

Her green eyes flicked back up to meet his.

His core twisted.

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