Perfect Kisses

“I don’t know…” Her hand lifted to her chest and rubbed ineffectually at the ache there. She wondered if she had hurt him in her ignorance. It pained her dreadfully to think of it.

“He appears to hold no ill will toward you, and his support could do much to improve your circumstance. It is unfortunate that he has acquired intolerance for your person.” Her grand-mere studied her a moment and then offered a smile. “Perhaps you could refrain from wearing your perfume?”

Sophie rubbed the back of her neck. “That will change nothing. We are completely unsuitable. He prefers blondes, such as Lady Julienne-”

“And you prefer brunettes such as Langley.”

“Yes, well…” She had adored Langley, loved him madly, had thought him the most charming man in the world. But she lusted for the golden marquess. Hungered for him. Ached for him in unmentionable places. When he entered the room, her body hummed with energy that wanted spending in a bed.

But she was also frightened by that need for him. How could she, a woman of so many faults, live up to the expectations of a man who seemed to have no faults at all?

“Regardless,” Sophie cleared her clenched throat, “I have Thomas, and Lord Fontaine requires a woman as different from me as night is to day. Even Rothschild washed his hands of me.”

“Your brother is a self-centered idiot.” The countess patted the vacant seat next to her on the gilded settee. “He will have his comeuppance one day. That is the way fate works.”

Sinking into the proffered space, Sophie leaned into her grand-mere and set her head on the frail shoulder. The scent of jasmine made her eyes water, the memories of a less complicated time bringing sadness. Now she was looking at the past with new eyes, remembering earlier conversations with new ears, feeling new emotions.

Wondering what she would have done then, if she had known what she knew now.

Chapter Four

When the knock came to Justin’s bedchamber door after dinner, the smile that curved his mouth was mirrored inside him. George and Edward immediately rolled to their bellies from their previous positions on their sides, then they padded over to the door at the same time Sophie’s husky voice drifted to his ears.

Justin rose from the chair before the fire. “Show her in,” he said to his valet, “then you may go.”

Inside him, something wild coiled tight, prepared to spring. But when Sophie came into view with sad eyes and her lower lip caught nervously between straight, white teeth, it quieted abruptly. She was wound up as well, but not for the same reasons he was.

“Who knew such mischief could hide beneath the exterior of an angel?” he murmured, attempting to calm her with gentle teasing.

She was dressed in deep blue this evening, the cut of the bodice and sleeves so painfully simple that on a lesser woman, it would have been plain. On Sophie, however, it allowed her lush figure to take the stage. She had kept herself sequestered all day, tormenting him with the knowledge that she was under his roof, yet unreachable.

With her head bowed, she said, “I meant no harm.”

Her palpable unhappiness disturbed him. “Why do I feel that you are upset about more than my inability to smell a blasted thing all day?”

“I am sorry about that, too,” she said contritely, startling him by stepping closer and running the tip of her index finger down the bridge of his nose. The innocent touch nearly undid him. It was the first intimate connection she had ever initiated. “I thought only of escape.”

“Escape?” he asked gruffly, his body reacting to her proximity and the scent of her skin.

She stepped back and clasped her hands. “Did I misunderstand our previous relationship?”

Justin arched a brow.

Sophie looked deep into his eyes, searching. “Have you ever contemplated walking on the surface of the moon?”

The other brow rose to meet the first.

“I never have,” she continued, her tongue flickering out to wet her lips. “Not until this afternoon when grand-mere suggested that perhaps you once cared for me beyond mere friendship and I attempted to conceive of something more impossible.”

“Sophie-”

Holding up a hand, she halted his speech. “If I wounded you, I never meant to. I was simply unaware. It never occurred to me that a man such as you would ever find me…would ever find anything-”

“Sophie-”

“You were always so damn perfect, so poised, so rigid…so…so…so arrogant!” She pointed an agitated and accusing finger at him. “Always ordering me about and correcting me and…and…and-”

Justin glanced heavenward, then snatched her to him and kissed her full on her indignant mouth.

“Mmpf…!” A weak protest died before it was born. She melted into him, all soft warm passionate woman.

Heat flared instantly, burning across his skin and setting his blood on fire. Cupping her nape, he held her still, fitting his mouth to hers. Taking it. Possessing it. As he should have done years ago.

Her hands pushed at his shoulders, then slid up and over them, thrusting into his hair. He growled, maddened by the simple contact, aroused to bursting, his cock hard and throbbing. Cupping her hip, he urged her closer, grinding his erection into the soft flesh of her lower belly. She surged into him in response, feverish and ardent, her body writhing in his grasp. Her grip on his scalp began to hurt and he welcomed the pain. It grounded him. Otherwise, he feared he would pull her to the floor, push up her skirts, and show her how far beyond friendship his feelings went.

Sophie yanked her head to the side, panting. “I cannot breathe.”

His mouth moved to her throat, then to her shoulder.

“Justin.” Her hands roamed over the length of his back, caressing through the fine linen of his shirt. “You entice me to give what I shouldn’t.”

The sob in her voice struck him with the force of a blow to the gut and pained him as deeply.

With a growl, he pushed her away.

They stood apart, breathing harshly, flushed and disheveled. He ran his hands through his hair, feeling the sweat that dampened the roots. His entire frame was tight, tense, hard, his jaw clenched.

“I am at a loss,” he said, his hands fisting. “I cannot have you, and yet I cannot conceive of not having you. Not when this,” he gestured between them, “is all I can think about.”

“I am so confused.” Her green eyes were dark and fathomless. “I feel…for you…”

“Say no more. I am a man, not a saint.”

“I loved him. He made me happy.”

“It pleases me to know that you were content.”

“I know it does.” Her hand lifted and came over her heart. “I would not change my past because it gave me both beautiful memories and my son, and yet all day I have been haunted by imaginings of what could have been. Where would we be in our lives if I had known?”

“All this time, I thought you were aware and chose differently regardless.”

“No.” She held her hand out to him, but he did not take it, afraid of what he would do if they touched again. Her arm lowered slowly. “I have no wish to hurt you.”

“This is not your fault, Sophie. Any guilt you might feel is unwarranted.”

“There is no way for us to be together, is there?”

“No way that we could both live with,” he said gruffly.

Cursing, he turned from her and crossed to the grate. He rested his arm on the mantel and stared into the fire, willing his burning blood to cool. He could taste her on his lips, smell her on his clothing. She was in the palm of his hand, yet he could not hold on to her. “I will leave in the morning.”

“I cannot run you from your own home.”

“I prefer it.” His eyes closed. “I would smell you here. See you here. Want you here.”