'No. You want all the secrets, now. Things learned through my life's experience bedding women. You had better lower your sights, my lady. You can't know everything and you can only take one step at a time.'
But she wanted to jump in headfirst and mire herself in a swamp of sensuality. 'Then take the step, Jeremy,' she said, her voice husky. 'I'm waiting.'
The magic words.
He tilted her head, holding her head immobile between his hands. Big hands, she noted distractedly. Warm hands.
He lowered his head. 'It's more elegant this way; we won't bump noses. And then, as I approach you, you must open your mouth to receive me.' He came closer and closer still, his gaze hooded, watching her response and reaction, and the emotion warring in her eyes.
She closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and felt him swoop down into her, the movement even more shocking for the total domination of it.
His tongue enveloped her, probing, seeking, stroking. She felt inept under the onslaught, but at least she held her own; she didn't recoil at his touch. She didn't pull away. She leaned into him, inviting more.
But she hated her own passivity. How did a woman respond to such a kiss? What did a woman do?
Hadn't he made that oh so clear?
Secrets.
More secrets.
Her body constricted.
Her body arched; she moved her tongue against his and felt the faint jolt of his body.
Her body seemed to be responding all out of proportion with the observations of her mind. She liked this kiss. She liked the feel of him deep in her mouth, eating away at her. She liked dueling with him, and discovering that she could nip and lap and play with him. She liked holding on to his strong hard hands as she moved into the kiss.
He tasted good, tasted sweet. He was by turns gentle and masterful, and she found she could meet him halfway, either way.
Amazing where a little determination could take one.
He nipped at her tongue, before taking it between his teeth and sucking at it.
She almost swooned at the pulling sensation, giving herself to it willingly.
All she could do was hang on and offer him all he wanted.. •
He sucked at her more insistently, harder, deeper, harsher. She felt a deep twinge in her vitals, felt as if she were melting somewhere between her legs.
She felt him tense, his hands tightened, and then the gorgeous heat of his mouth slowly, slowly, slowly eased away from hers, erotically pulling at her lips before he finally disengaged from her.
She made a little sound at the back of her throat. Don't… •
Her body contracted somewhere deep within. /
He did too.
Her breathing constricted. They could be alone in the house for all Reginald would interfere with them. He could stay with her and kiss her like that all day. The whole long, long day.
He read every emotion in her eyes, every nuance of her body. The virgin in bloom. There was no more dangerous flower, no more poisonous dew than an innocent newly aroused.
He was susceptible, too. Just for a moment, he forgot who she was and where they were, and he had lost himself in the erotic heat of her mouth, and pushed aside all caution, all restraint.
Oh, a luscious mouth could positively destroy a man.
But not him. He understood the dangers now that she had tasted her power. It was merely a matter of harnessing his, and mastering her long enough to keep her away from ruin.
He was the man for the job. And the tightness in his groin-well, any woman could arouse him to that kind of pitch. It wasn't Regina; it was the driving heat of a succulent kiss. Any man would respond to that.
And yet, as he gazed at her soft mouth and shimmering eyes, all he could think was,
Not so indifferent, he thought wryly. But then, what was the harm? He would teach Regina what she wanted to know, enjoy what little she would give, and keep her out of Raulton's bed.
He shied violently from the thought. This wasn't what it was about, damn it. It was about obstructing her pursuit of Raulton. And teaching her a few things. That was all. Nothing more, nothing less.
The fact he was still breathing hard had nothing to do with anything. But if he stayed any longer, it would.
He could not make himself move. The tension escalated, along with her expectations. He wanted to, he did, and she wanted him to. It was just another step, and he could take her.
He could do anything with her he wanted; he saw it in her eyes. Willing. Waiting. Mirroring everything any man could want, everything a man could desire.
Damn damn damn… he couldn't let this get out of hand.
He thrust her away. 'Enough, my lady.'
She shook her head. 'Let us take the next step.'
'My next step is out the door, Regina.'
'Why?'
'Because my taste does not run to foolish virgins,' he snapped, out of patience with her-with himself.
She stiffened. How could he? After that voluptuous connection between them, how could he?
But that was a man. That was what he was trying to tell her, and what she had already seen: it was nothing to him and everything to her.
And that was the reason why she must cultivate a different sensibility. A man did not like to be tethered and cobbled. A man wanted to walk away and never regret anything-but who was to say a woman couldn't feel the
