Read Online Absolute Pleasure by Cheryl Holt - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cheryl Holt
Ads: Link
stood up. The air crackled with a peculiar intensity, much as it might with the approach of a lightning storm. If she'd pointed at him, she wouldn't have been surprised to see sparks shooting from her fingertip.
He felt it, too. His anatomy was thoroughly attuned to hers, his torso reaching out, seeking a connection she couldn't define, but even in her naive condition she recognized it as the link that drew lovers together.
Languidly, his fervid appraisal drifted to her mouth, and his keen evaluation ignited a fire in her belly. His lips were just a few inches from her own. Imperceptibly, he shifted nearer, hovering, and for the briefest second, she truly supposed he was about to kiss her—an absurd assumption! She jerked away, her heart literally skipping a beat, and her startled reaction kept him from proceeding with whatever he'd proposed to do.
He increased the distance between them, and his brow creased with concern, as though demanding an explanation for their extraordinary corporeal responses. She had the distinct impression that he wasn't happy; he was confounded and baffled and—she was convinced—more than a bit annoyed.
She might have laughed at his consternation, so plainly was it written on his face, but she decided to take pity on him instead. They enjoyed a perplexing, significant, mutual affinity, when he had calculated for none to exist at all. He was less than ecstatic.
How splendid to bedevil such a magnetic, sophisticated lady's man!
Still, she could never forget that he was a bounder of the first water. Shady incentives had driven him to invite her to a painting session. In all likelihood, he had calculated a scheme that involved a scenario that would have her pining away and incessantly brooding over him and their relationship. The ultimate objective of his plot eluded her, but her inability to grasp his exact aims didn't make his machinations any less real.
While such an intrigue could presumably succeed on a less astute woman, Elizabeth hadn't been called sensible all her life for nothing. She had a good head on her shoulders, and she meant to use it. Two could play at the game of fictitious enamoration, though on her part, at least, the engrossment was genuine. Perhaps Mr. Cristofore had finally met his female match!
"What is it, Mr. Cristofore? Of a sudden, you look ... pained."
"Me?”
"Is everything all right?”
"Si."
The introspection that had overtaken him vanished. The puzzlement and irritation that had been so transparent were masked, replaced by his engaging smile, and the fervor and focus of it scalded her.
How absolutely phenomenal to have his undivided attention! Her feminine confidence soared. After a few hours in his company, she'd be a new woman!
"I was merely staring," he explained, "in order to catalog your facial attributes. I do it often. Does it bother you?"
As if she'd mind being scrutinized by Gabriel Cristofore! "No, it doesn't. It's just different. I'm not accustomed to such thorough assessment."
"No one is."
"It's unnerving."
"Don't worry; you'll get used to it."
"I'm sure I will."
"Would you sit?" He motioned toward the decadent, inviting sofa.
"Certainly."
In for a penny, in for a pound, she told herself.
With aplomb, she strolled to the sofa, determined to perch on the edge and to sit as ladylike as she was able. Back straight, hands folded demurely in her lap, she eased down, but as her rear landed on the cushion, poise could not be achieved.
The design encouraged slouching, compelling her to snuggle so that she wouldn't slide off onto the floor. Then, of course, once she'd sunk in fully, she was enveloped by opulence, buffered by sumptuous fabric, and she couldn't see any reason to straighten.
Rashly adapting to the luxury, she abandoned any attempt at composure and leaned to the side, balancing an elbow on one of the pillows. Wanton comportment seemed to come naturally. A few more minutes and she'd be taking down her hair!
"Might I offer you a
He felt it, too. His anatomy was thoroughly attuned to hers, his torso reaching out, seeking a connection she couldn't define, but even in her naive condition she recognized it as the link that drew lovers together.
Languidly, his fervid appraisal drifted to her mouth, and his keen evaluation ignited a fire in her belly. His lips were just a few inches from her own. Imperceptibly, he shifted nearer, hovering, and for the briefest second, she truly supposed he was about to kiss her—an absurd assumption! She jerked away, her heart literally skipping a beat, and her startled reaction kept him from proceeding with whatever he'd proposed to do.
He increased the distance between them, and his brow creased with concern, as though demanding an explanation for their extraordinary corporeal responses. She had the distinct impression that he wasn't happy; he was confounded and baffled and—she was convinced—more than a bit annoyed.
She might have laughed at his consternation, so plainly was it written on his face, but she decided to take pity on him instead. They enjoyed a perplexing, significant, mutual affinity, when he had calculated for none to exist at all. He was less than ecstatic.
How splendid to bedevil such a magnetic, sophisticated lady's man!
Still, she could never forget that he was a bounder of the first water. Shady incentives had driven him to invite her to a painting session. In all likelihood, he had calculated a scheme that involved a scenario that would have her pining away and incessantly brooding over him and their relationship. The ultimate objective of his plot eluded her, but her inability to grasp his exact aims didn't make his machinations any less real.
While such an intrigue could presumably succeed on a less astute woman, Elizabeth hadn't been called sensible all her life for nothing. She had a good head on her shoulders, and she meant to use it. Two could play at the game of fictitious enamoration, though on her part, at least, the engrossment was genuine. Perhaps Mr. Cristofore had finally met his female match!
"What is it, Mr. Cristofore? Of a sudden, you look ... pained."
"Me?”
"Is everything all right?”
"Si."
The introspection that had overtaken him vanished. The puzzlement and irritation that had been so transparent were masked, replaced by his engaging smile, and the fervor and focus of it scalded her.
How absolutely phenomenal to have his undivided attention! Her feminine confidence soared. After a few hours in his company, she'd be a new woman!
"I was merely staring," he explained, "in order to catalog your facial attributes. I do it often. Does it bother you?"
As if she'd mind being scrutinized by Gabriel Cristofore! "No, it doesn't. It's just different. I'm not accustomed to such thorough assessment."
"No one is."
"It's unnerving."
"Don't worry; you'll get used to it."
"I'm sure I will."
"Would you sit?" He motioned toward the decadent, inviting sofa.
"Certainly."
In for a penny, in for a pound, she told herself.
With aplomb, she strolled to the sofa, determined to perch on the edge and to sit as ladylike as she was able. Back straight, hands folded demurely in her lap, she eased down, but as her rear landed on the cushion, poise could not be achieved.
The design encouraged slouching, compelling her to snuggle so that she wouldn't slide off onto the floor. Then, of course, once she'd sunk in fully, she was enveloped by opulence, buffered by sumptuous fabric, and she couldn't see any reason to straighten.
Rashly adapting to the luxury, she abandoned any attempt at composure and leaned to the side, balancing an elbow on one of the pillows. Wanton comportment seemed to come naturally. A few more minutes and she'd be taking down her hair!
"Might I offer you a
Similar Books
