from anyone or anything that would be foolish enough to attempt to hurt her again. Her bottom lip trembled slightly, drawing his attention to her mouth… her full, beautiful mouth.
Desire slammed into him-low, hard, and undeniable. She was so achingly beautiful. A sudden flush of color washed over her cheeks. Clearly she'd recognized the hunger he knew burned in his gaze. He remained perfectly still for several seconds, giving her the chance to move away, but she stood her ground. That beguiling blush beckoned him like a siren's call, and slowly, as if in a trance, he raised his hand to her face and gently brushed his fingertips over her cheek.
Velvet. Her skin was like cream velvet. Or was satin softer? Or silk? He didn't know, but she was most definitely whichever was the softest. A tiny, breathy sound escaped her, once again drawing his gaze to her lips. And suddenly he could not recall one reason why he shouldn't give in to the longing that had plagued him since even before he'd met her, and kiss her. She didn't mourn… Her heart was free.
Wrapping one arm around her waist, he slowly drew her to him until they touched from chest to knee. Her eyes widened slightly, but there was no mistaking the awareness glimmering in her golden-brown depths. Or the stirrings of desire. He inhaled, and her scent wrapped around him like a seductive vine. Lowering his head, he brushed his mouth over hers.
That same intense rush of feeling he'd experienced at the pier enveloped him, and for several seconds he couldn't move as the words reverberated through his mind. If it had been possible, he would have laughed at his strong reaction. Bloody hell, he'd barely touched her…
He pulled her tighter against him. No woman, ever, had felt this right. As if she'd been fashioned precisely for him and no one else. Rising up on her toes, she strained closer to him, pressing her lush curves against him, instantly evaporating any hopes he might have foolishly harbored about remaining in control. A low growl rumbled in his throat. He touched his tongue to the seam of her lips, and she opened for him with a husky sigh of want that ignited him, racing his blood through his veins.
She tasted like heated wine. Smooth and warm, delicious and intoxicating. While he explored the dark mysteries of her mouth, she explored his with equal fervor, her tongue rubbing against his with exquisite friction. Need, hot and increasingly demanding, ripped through him, and if he'd been able to think clearly, he would have been appalled at his lack of subtlety.
He tunneled impatient fingers into her soft hair, scattering pins, until a curtain of flowery-scented tresses rained over his hands. Soft. God, she was so soft. And smelled so damn good. Her thick hair rippled through his fingers like cool silk, a stunning contrast to the fire burning through him. A fire made all the more intense by her reactions. For as impatiently as his mouth claimed hers, she pressed against him. For as eagerly as his hands combed through her hair, her fingers raced through his.
A moan vibrated between them. Him? Her? God help him, he didn't know anymore. Desperate to feel more of her, his hands smoothed down her back until he cupped her rounded buttocks. Every muscle strained with wanting her closer, and he cursed the barrier of their clothing that kept their skin from touching.
He didn't know how long that frantic mating of lips and tongues continued before a semblance of sanity returned, along with a modicum of finesse. He gentled his kiss, somehow finding the strength to abandon her lips and explore the delights of her slender neck. He ran hot, open-mouthed kisses down her jaw to the rapidly quivering pulse at the base of her throat. He gently touched his tongue to the spot, savoring the long, low moan vibrating in her throat.
'That fragrance,' he whispered against the shell of her ear. 'What is that incredible scent you wear?' He captured her lobe between his teeth and lightly tugged.
'Honeysuckle,' she breathed, the word ending on a husky groan.
Honeysuckle. The luscious aroma that had embedded itself in his mind had a name. Honeysuckle. Hell, it even
Slowly he raised his head and looked at her. Shiny strands of chestnut hair lay about her shoulders in wild abandon. Her eyes were closed, her face flushed with arousal, her full lips damp and swollen from their frantic kiss. Next time he would go slower. Savor her. Take the time to memorize every exquisite nuance of her. He would certainly have been appalled at himself for all but devouring her if not for the fact that she'd been as voracious as he. Indeed, they'd fed each other's hunger. But next time he would-
Next time? He paused to consider the import of those words. Yes, next time, for he knew, without a doubt, there would be one. To consider not touching her again… unthinkable. Kissing her had felt like coming home after a long journey. Like finding shelter after being lost in a storm. He'd once doubted, indeed had scoffed at the notion that this woman made him feel that 'certain something.' By God, he couldn't doubt it or scoff any longer. One kiss had practically brought him to his knees. He wanted her. With an intensity that, quite literally, left him shaking.
Her lids fluttered open, and he swallowed a groan at her dreamy, languid expression. Her eyes looked like brown velvet, their depths soft with sexual want. For the first time he could recall, he was utterly speechless. No jest or joke sprang to mind, no laughing remark tripped off his tongue. He'd suspected-no, damn it all, he'd
Allie slowly emerged from the sensual fog enveloping her, with a sigh of pure pleasure. She felt so wonderfully
His large hands still cupped her buttocks, while her fingers remained tangled in the thick hair at his nape. Her eyes finally focused on his, and her breath stalled at the intense heat blasting from his gaze. She shifted slightly in his embrace, the movement rubbing her against his arousal. He inhaled sharply, and heat flared in her. Fierce and aching.
And unwelcome.
Sanity returned like the slap of a cold, wet blanket. What on earth was she doing?
Disentangling her fingers from his hair, she took two shaky steps back, away from him. His hands slid slowly from her buttocks. It was nearly impossible to stand her ground and look at him when everything cautious inside her screamed at her to flee. Now. Before she gave in to her body's cravings and threw herself against him.
The coward in her longed for him to speak first. To say that what had passed between them was a mistake… a lapse in judgment that would not be repeated. But when silence stretched between them, she decided it would have to be her.
'Lord Robert-'
'Robert.' One corner of his mouth lifted. 'I believe we are officially on a first-name basis now… Allie.'
The way he said her name, in that husky voice, rippled a warm shiver down her spine. Clearing her throat, she said in what she hoped passed for a brisk tone, 'I accept my full share of the blame for what just happened. I think we can both agree that it was a mistake. One that will not be repeated.'
'Oh, but it was not a mistake,' he said in a soft voice completely at odds with the dead seriousness in his gaze. Reaching out, he clasped her hands, shooting tingles up her arms. 'And it will happen again. Surely you realize that.'
She wanted to deny it, to open her mouth and refute his frightening statement, but the words refused to form in her throat.
'You felt it, too,' he whispered, his eyes steady on hers. 'Just as I did. That 'certain something.' I know you did. You might not want to or be ready to admit it to yourself, but I felt it in your response. Tasted it in your kiss. It's there, between us. And it's not going away. Indeed, it's only gaining momentum.'
His honesty and obvious acceptance of something so completely
