Page 12 of A Kiss Of Lies

She became a statue, too afraid to move lest he wake and find her mouth upon his.

Then his lips fluttered over hers, so lightly it could have been her imagination. Unlike the rest of him, they were soft, and then she could feel herself sinking into their warmth.

With no warning he deepened the kiss, and an altogether different type of groan escaped from deep within his chest. His arms reached for her and he pulled her on top of him, her thin nightdress just a flimsy barricade against the heat and power of his body. She could feel him hardening against her stomach as his tongue swept into her mouth, seeking, conquering, and finally chasing away his demons.

She fought the panic and the need to struggle. Would he hurt her? She would bear it as she always did with Peter, because she was too scared to wake him. She could lose her hard-won job. She should not have entered his room. What if he dismissed her after only one night?

She gritted her teeth, prepared to endure his touch.

But his startling kiss was like none she’d ever experienced before. It was full of tenderness, gentleness, and longing—things Sarah had never experienced in her husband’s bed.

She closed her eyes and gave herself over to his kiss. For the first time she welcomed the arousing sensations besieging her as his lips moved enticingly over hers. Her body grew suddenly warm, her skin flushed as with a fever, and yet, oddly, she shivered under his expert onslaught. Surprisingly, she was aroused. After everything she’d endured in her husband’s bed, her body recognized the difference in Christian’s touch. Her breasts swelled, becoming heavy, full, and tingling; waves of heat fluttered and curled in her belly, and lower as well, right between her thighs. Her breath seemed to be suspended, even as it mingled with his.

Her husband had never made her feel this way. The only thing she’d ever felt for her husband was revulsion.

His mouth continued to languidly explore her, his tongue sliding into her mouth and tickling her moist interior, penetrating and withdrawing and encouraging her to return the favor. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and he groaned. Of their own accord, her fingers entangled themselves in the silky hair that curled at the nape of his neck.

“No, not Harriet . . .”

The murmured cry uttered against her lips was laced with pain.

Sarah raised her head, mortified. Lord Markham was dreaming of another woman. Of course he was. She briefly wondered who the lady was, wishing for a split second that the man whose beautiful, scarred face was so close to hers, whose lips were still moist and glistening from her kisses, was dreaming of her.

A thick curl of raven black tumbled over his scarred cheek, and she found herself smoothing it back into place. She leaned down and kissed the savagely puckered flesh of his right cheekbone, willing away his pain. Sarah continued to sing softly, and stayed with Christian until the nightmare subsided and his breathing was deep and regular.

One of Christian’s arms stroked her back, and she shivered in awareness at his maleness and at the impropriety of being in a virtual stranger’s arms. But he didn’t feel like a stranger. He felt safe. It was as if she sensed Lord Markham could fulfill her in some unimaginable way. As if together they could heal each other’s pain and bring laughter and brightness into each other’s barren lives.

Her sense that they belonged together shook her to her core. It was as inexplicable as it was profound. Sarah silently and thoughtfully contemplated the man beneath her. If only she were free to do as she wished. A woman running from the law had no right to form any attachments.

She ran her fingertips over his lips, the burn making his mouth appear cruel when she knew it was not. Drawn by an urge more powerful than reasonable, she bent her head and chastely kissed him again. She couldn’t seem to stop kissing him, caught once more by the spell of his gentle lips and the sensual pleasure of his hard muscles making her breasts swell so painfully. Her body ached with a need she had never before imagined or experienced.

When finally she drew back and moved to leave his bed, her sense of loss caused her heart to lodge in her throat. She made her way to the door.

“Goodnight, my lord. Pleasant dreams. I forbid further nightmares this night.”

As she left his bedchamber, Sarah quietly closed the door behind her, but Christian’s eyes had opened and followed her departure with a longing that matched her own.

“I’ll hardly sleep now, filled with arousing dreams of you,” he whispered to the closed door.

Christian rolled onto his back and crossed his arms under his head. She’d touched him. Kissed him. Kissed his scars. Without being paid. She’d taken pleasure in his kiss, for no gain.

He’d awoken to her soft singing. His mother used to sing to him as a child. He hadn’t been dreaming. She’d kissed him. Kissed him of her own volition. And she’d let him kiss her, and she’d returned his kisses in earnest.

Why?

He could feel warmth infuse his soul, and his lips formed a half smile, as much as the burn damage would allow.

She’d sung to him. Like a child.

His grin grew wider, and the skin on the right side of his face pulled painfully taut.

He didn’t notice.

She’d sung to him. The sound healed and soothed his troubled soul.

Christian rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, his body humming as if he were now just one big grin. He gave thanks to God for sending him a woman like Sarah Cooper. He looked forward to her kissing him again. When he was fully compos mentis and could return her kisses in kind, he would give her more, much more, than a few chaste kisses.

ChapterFour

---