He half-groaned, half-laughed. ‘Not that. Definitely not that. I’ve had too much to drink. You’ve got your drawing and I don’t want to lose my job.’
‘I would never tell anyone.’
‘You are a naughty little puss. Do you know that? A temptress.’ His lips brushed her ear, her throat, her collarbone, sending shivers down her spine, tightening her nipples. ‘Leave now, before I take you at your word.’
Shivers turned to rivers of molten metal in her blood. Her heart beat so hard, she could not draw breath. She turned to face him, to look into his eyes, but his thoughts were hidden by shadows cast by the fire. ‘I don’t want to go. I want to kiss you.’
Heat flared in his eyes. ‘One kiss, then,’ he murmured seductively.
Weak with anticipation, she lifted her chin and closed her eyes. Nothing happened.
She opened her eyes.
He raised a brow. ‘You said you wanted to kiss me.’
The raised brow and the glimmer of laughter in his eyes said he thought she wouldn’t dare. Her breath stuck in her throat. Was he right? She had no experience kissing a man.
But she had seen the pictures. She leaned forwards and brushed her mouth against his firm lips. He didn’t move. She placed her hands on his broad shoulders, feeling sinew and bone beneath her palms, along with growing heat. She touched her tongue to the seam of his lips.
He opened his mouth. Her insides clenched more powerfully than anything she had experienced during her imaginings. His hands slid up her back, drawing her closer. Lips, warm and soft, moved over hers with persuasive pressure. Her lips parted in response.
‘Oh, yes, sweetheart,’ he murmured against her mouth. He licked her lower lip. A delicious thrill trickled down her spine. See, she did know. It was in her blood. She slid her hands around his neck, ran her fingers through his hair.
He angled his head, his mouth moving and coaxing and teasing. Chills shivered through her body, leaving her weak. She parted her lips to his teasing tongue and she clung to him, panting against his wonderful mouth.
He pulled away. ‘God, give me strength.’
Ragged breaths shaking her frame, she watched him rub his palms on his thighs and realised his breathing was equally fast. ‘That is all you want?’
He half-laughed, half-groaned. ‘What I want and what I can take are very different.’
While she didn’t know exactly what she wanted, she knew they had been heading in the right direction during their kiss, and that it was just the beginning. When she worked on a sketch, each pencil stroke brought the design closer to completion. Heavenly perfection, if done well, a disaster if one misplaced a line. In the art of kissing, he was her master, and it seemed he was not prepared to complete this work.
‘You find me lacking?’
‘You little fool. I’m doing this for your sake. You are a lady. I’m…nothing. You will only ruin yourself.’ The words seemed torn from him, regretful, as if he truly did not want to stop.
A sense of empowerment glowed within her, drove her to reckless abandon. She was, after all, the bastard daughter of the Wynchwood Whore. ‘I am already ruined.’
Ruined? The word was a siren song to Robert’s beleaguered senses. He’d meant to frighten her off. Scare her silly. Instead, he’d found himself battling the demon of self-control. Was this what the cook meant by devil’s spawn? That this child-woman really was not the innocent she seemed? Was she his kind of woman after all? The kind who enjoyed casual, carefree encounters? The kind who had sampled others before him?
His brain, still hazy with drink and clouded by lust, was partly hopeful and partly angered at the thought of another man with his hands on her delicate body.
‘Kiss me, R-Robert, please.’
Did she have any idea how alluring he found her little hesitation when she said his name? God, he hoped not, or he was lost.
He pulled her slight frame against him, cradled her in his arms, her hips against his groin, her small hands curled on his chest. It felt right. Too right. More than he deserved.
His heart sang when she lifted her face to him, her full lips begging to be kissed.
He couldn’t look at her enough. It was as if he needed to absorb her into his skin, into the empty place in his chest that had been cold and hard and now felt soft and warm and full of longing.
She stroked his jaw. He hadn’t shaved. He captured her fine-boned fingers, kissed the palm of her hand, her wrist, the inside of her elbow, felt her shiver of desire in the deepest fibre of his being.
Heaven could not be more blissful.
He caressed her back. Her neck above her woollen gown felt like silk. Exquisitely soft.
He slipped one hand under her knees and lifted her. Arms around his neck, she snuggled against his shoulder as if she belonged there. He buried his face in her hair, inhaled her unique scent. Intoxicated, he carried her to his cot where he lay her down. She gazed up at him, then raised her hands above her head, seemingly submissive, yet her sea-green and mysterious eyes held a glint of a dare.
Desire flamed in his body. Out of control, and yet control it he must. He swallowed a growl of frustration and knelt beside the bed. She captured his hand, kissed the knuckles one by one, her moist tongue lapping at his skin like a cat, tasting him.
‘Lie down with me, R-Robert.’ Her husky voice grazed the most sensitive parts of his body.
Desire, heat, lust, pooled in his loins. ‘Are you sure?’ He ground out the question from a throat so tight it hurt to speak. Even as the words left his mouth, in some deep part of him he dreaded her reply, whichever it was.
‘Yes.’
His body demanded it, even as his brain advised caution. Damn caution. He’d given her every chance to leave. She understood exactly what she was doing. He dipped his head to taste of her mouth, to savour her honeyed sweetness with his tongue, and lost his senses.
Light, fluttering, teasing, her hands roamed his back, smoothed his shoulders, explored his chest and arms and set his skin on fire.
His tongue swept her mouth, his palm found her high, small breast beneath her bodice. The nipple pearled against his palm, begging for his mouth, his tongue.
She moaned when he squeezed her beautiful soft flesh. Her tongue flickered over his lips, then plunged into his mouth.
Hard as a rock, he wanted to ravage her, fill her with his essence, cover her with his scent, brand her as his own, possess her body and spirit. Dear God. No woman had ever brought him to such a state of mindless passion.
Where now was his legendary control? He hauled in a deep breath. She deserved more than a hurried engagement of the flesh, no matter how much he wanted to sheathe himself inside her heat.
Slow. Steady. Focus on her needs, her desires. He inhaled. With each deep breath, his heartbeat eased to a manageable level and control slid back into his grasp. He trailed kisses across her jaw, and soaked up her sigh of pleasure. He brushed his lips across the hollow of her throat and tasted the rapid pulse beat with his tongue.
Her thighs fell apart as if her limbs were now his to command. He licked the rise of flesh above her stays. He grazed her nipple through her chemise, then blew on the damp fabric. She shuddered and her hips bucked beneath him.
‘Slowly, love,’ he whispered. He caressed her ribs. Front closing stays, thank God. He untied the bow at her bosom. Firelight gilded her elfin face and threw mystic shadows across her face. A woodland sprite, a magical being who filled him with tenderness.
Between kisses on her lips and cheek and chin, he unlaced her ties. Finally loose, he tossed the stays away and eased her chemise upwards over a beautifully turned knee, exposed her thigh, where