Perfect Kisses

“Such arrogance, Ormond.”

His smile widened. “Now you owe me tuppence.”

“How cavalier you are. Do women find your casual impertinence appealing?”

He laughed. “As you noted the other day, women find my fortune the most appealing-your sister included if I may say so without offending you further. Although, if you allow me, I could show you my more admirable qualities.” She was too green to hear the truth about what most appealed to his lovers.

“And if I allow that, I shall adore you as well?”

“I didn’t say I was adored.” He was pleased to see her skittishness displaced by a petulance he knew how to deal with. “Let’s just say that the ladies I know are always appreciative.”

“So I understand. The gossip sheets proclaim you much in demand in the boudoir.”

“I admit to a certain popularity,” he said, smiling faintly, aware of the most trifling peevishness in her voice, as though she were feeling deprived. “Perhaps I might convince you of what you’ve been missing if you’d allow.”

She made a small moue. “Conceited man.”

“I’m good at what I do.”

“And why wouldn’t you be since vice is the sole focus of your life.”

“Au contraire. It’s the scandal sheets that thrive on sex. I have many interests. When we have more time, I’ll tell you about them. As for vice, my sweet little prude, let me change your mind-and your vocabulary apropos pleasure.” He dropped his gaze to her taut nipples, then looked up and smiled at her. “I’d wager you’re feeling a certain heated palpitation in your-”

“Don’t say it,” she blurted out.

“I only meant to point out that we have privacy, you and I have agreed to agree and I could assuage your-er- restlessness if you’d like. I guarantee you’ll enjoy yourself.”

His voice was hushed and low, his provocative offer tempting. And he was right-she’d already agreed to this. “I am not a prude,” she whispered. “I just didn’t expect this-” she waved her hand slightly, indicating the venue. “In all honesty,” she reluctantly added, “I do find myself-”

“Intrigued?”

She sighed. “Yes.”

“Then why not think of this as an investment in your sister’s future. Would that make it better-easier? Harriet is being served up a full array of suitors,” he saliently noted. “Which was the point of our arrangement, was it not?”

“I didn’t think-that is…I wasn’t planning on the-well…suddenness.”

Unlike her, he wasn’t indecisive. As for suddenness, he hardly thought waiting two entire days met that criteria. “The door’s locked. The drapes are drawn. Your sister and aunt are intent on their own pleasures.” He moved closer; they were only inches apart. “Look,” he said, holding out his arms, “You set the pace. I won’t touch you. How would that be?”

His deep voice was benign, his offer innocuous. How could it hurt?-the little voice inside her head observed.

“You could start by kissing me,” he suggested, not entirely sure a tyro knew what to do. Not sure he could wait much longer. Although the heated flush on her cheeks, the agitated rise and fall of her breasts gave him reason to think she might be more ready than she realized.

Would she or would she not give in to her urges?

Could he or could he not continue to play the gentleman with her sexual need so blatant?

Then, fortunately for his peace of mind and aching cock, she moved forward an infinitesimal distance, and clenching his fists he stood immobile-waiting.

Slowly raising her gloved hands, she placed them gingerly on his white satin waistcoat.

And he waited still-breath-held.

The sweet scent of her overwhelmed his senses as she rose on tiptoe and leaned into him. Her soft breasts pressed into his chest, her thighs brushed against his, and then, more pertinently, her lower body came into contact with his hard, pulsing erection.

Only with the utmost restraint did he remain motionless.

Provocatively aware of the rigid length of his penis prodding her stomach, the tantalizing proximity further fanned her already fevered desires and, wild with longing, Claire abruptly jettisoned reason and logic. Overwhelmed by lust, she gave into the more powerful, corrupting force.

Ormond might have told her as much before time.

But perhaps for virgin maidens, experience was the better teacher.

Her last fears and trepidation cast aside, she shut her eyes, gave herself up, and kissed him.

As her lips finally made contact with his, he felt a wild excitement out of all proportion to the simple act. Cynic that he was, he immediately attributed his feelings to the prolonged delay in gaining the lady’s favors.

Less cynical, or not cynical at all, further buoyed by a heated rush of incredible pleasure melting through her senses, Claire opened her eyes and kissed Ormond again-gladly and willingly. With the euphoria of having tasted the sweetest of forbidden fruit.

Dropping back on her heels a moment later, newly liberated and giddy with joy, she smiled up at him. “I couldn’t resist you. I couldn’t no matter what. I expect you hear that often.”

“No, of course not,” he urbanely replied.

“How polite you are, but never fear-I am content to be added to your list of conquests. The gossip sheets are right; you are irresistible. And now, since the die is cast,” she quickly added, as though any deliberation might cause her to falter in her course, “if you’d be so kind as to unbutton me, I won’t have to worry about wrinkling my gown.” Pulling off her kid gloves, she swung around so her back was to him.

Her swift volte-face from apprehension to this unvarnished candor was unexpected, but never one to reflect overlong when offered sex, Ormond quickly set about doing her bidding.

“You’re sure the door is locked?” She could have been speaking to her greengrocer, so prosaic her tone.

“Yes.” His fingers flew over the buttons.

“And you promise we’ll have no interruptions.” She carefully set her gloves on the chair arm.

He laughed, charmed by her engaging frankness. “At the moment, darling, I would quite willingly offer you anything at all.”

She flashed him a smile over her shoulder. “I dare say if I were the mercenary type, this would be my opportunity to strike an excellent bargain.”

“No doubt about it,” he said with a grin, slipping her dress from her shoulders, speaking from experience.

“Although I suppose that window of opportunity is fast closing,” she teased, pushing the gown down her hips, and stepping out of it. Feeling suddenly as though she were on French leave from the dull monotony of her life, she turned back to him with the sweetest of smiles.

“I assure you, I will not be ungrateful at any stage,” he murmured, winking at her as he stripped off his coat.

As she carefully spread her gown over the back of a chair, he kicked off his shoes and dropped his coat on the floor.

“Now you’re going to be wrinkled.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He unfastened his waistcoat.

“But I do.”

It was her schoolmistress tone-so sensitive to her precarious feelings he readily complied, picking up his coat and placing it on a nearby table. “Better?” he queried, sliding off his waistcoat. “Would you like someone to press our clothes later?” he teased.

“Very funny, I’m sure. While you may not be concerned about-”

Tossing his waistcoat at the table, he picked her up, curtailing any further comments she might be tempted to make by moving forward with all speed. “We’ll fix whatever you need fixing afterward,” he generously offered, carrying her to a large leather sofa set in the center of the room, sitting down with her on his lap. “If I proceed too fast or too slow, speak up. I am not averse to instructions,” he murmured, conscious he had a virgin on his hands.

The prospect gave him pause.

He’d never been with a virgin.