Page 115 of Seducing the Knave

Or perhaps not so shocking once one considered Bishop was known for being unashamedly hedonistic in addition to being unrelentingly impertinent.

“Ye’re not supposed to be in this wing, pet,” he slurred now with an insolent grin.

Caillie narrowed her eyes, trying her best to appear intimidating and unperturbed despite the fact that she was acutely aware of everywhere her body touched his. The hovering breadth of his muscled chest. The intimacy of his hips pressing hers to the wall. The brush of his thighs and the firm weight of his hands encircling her waist.

“As I understand, you aren’t supposed to be here either,” she retorted.

With the subtlest change, his mouth went from amused and cocky to bone-meltingly sensual.

Caillie had to forcefully resist the urge to whimper.

Bluidy hell, why did this man turn her into such a ninny?

“You can’t expect me to leave London without a proper send-off.”

She stiffened. “Leave London?”

“Aye,” he murmured as his attention dropped suddenly from her eyes to her lips.

An odd panic started to press outward from the center of her chest. “Why? Where are going? How long will you be gone?”

Despite having been coming to Bentley’s for years now, since she’d been a child, there had been only a few very rare occasions that she’d encountered or even seen Bishop Black—from a distance, of course.

The one and only time—prior to the current moment, of course—that he’d actually touched her or spoken to her had been to chastise her during her rescue when she’d been abducted by her brother Max’s longtime nemesis. That day, Bishop had caught her around the middle much as he had moments ago. Except then, he’d held her back against him in a way that had awakened some rather tumultuous feelings inside her.

Feelings that had only grown with each rare sighting of him since.

She’d hoped to have some opportunity to explore those awakened sensitivities. She’d believed she had plenty of time. Time to grow up a bit and gain a wee bit more experience before confronting this man again.

But now he was leaving.

“But...” she stammered almost plaintively, “how long will you be gone?”

His brown eyes darkened as she spoke and his gaze remained fastened rather intently on the movement of her mouth. It seemed to take him a moment to register her question.

“Long enough, I hope,” he muttered as he shifted his weight and his hands momentarily tightened on her waist.

She took his unsteadiness as another sign of his inebriation. But then his hands tightened again before inching a wee bit lower, to the gentle flare of her hips. At the same time, his gaze lifted.

Ensnared by his rich brown gaze, Caillie’s heart stopped and her breath slid from her parted lips as her entire body suddenly froze. As if it knew long before she did that something absolutely momentous was about to happen.

“Is that why you’re here?” he asked, his voice dropping to a heavy, intimate tone that rolled through her body like a fine red wine—rich, heady, and far more spicy than sweet. “Have you come to say goodbye?”

Everything inside her seemed to reach for him. Her desire was so strong it actually felt like he was getting closer.

By the time she realized he was getting closer, only a breath separated them. She could feel his heartbeat thundering against hers. His virile male scent surrounded her. His dark stare, though heavy-lidded and slightly unfocussed, seemed to gaze straight into her soul.

And then...his lips. His perfectly full and arrogantly arched lips. Touched hers.

The kiss was shockingly light. Barely there, really. But it sparked like magic anyway.

Bright. Beautiful. Intense. And wonderful.

But when Caillie tipped her head back, lifting her mouth to encourage deeper contact, he suddenly released her.

Actually, he stumbled back as if some unseen forced had pulled him by the collar. The look he gave her then was pure confusion, but it lasted only a moment before it was replaced by accusation and angry regret.

“Bloody ’ell,” he muttered. Then he shook his head and turned to continue toward the door which led into the gambling club.

He never once looked back at her.

Caillie sagged against the wall and sucked a much-needed breath into her lungs before she repeated on a ragged sigh, “Bluidy hell.”

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