unreadable.
Catherine was shocked by the intensity of the
earl’s look. Mesmerized, she could not tear her gaze from his as he
withdrew the remaining morsel and very deliberately placed it in
his mouth. He continued to stare at her as he sucked the juice from
each of his sticky fingers, one by one.
She had no idea what that little ritual
meant, however, neither was she a fool. Unsophisticated she might
be, but the overt sexual nature of the communication left no doubt
about the earl’s intentions. He had sent her an invitation, pure
and simple.
Catherine knew he held his breath, her
indecision as obvious to him as it was to herself. Now was the time
to clarify her position with the forward gentleman. Unfortunately,
she felt powerless to deny him. Nothing had prepared her for the
intense onslaught of emotion that had taken her mind and body.
Perhaps one kiss—nothing wrong with that, was there?—just so she
might satisfy a need she was only now beginning to accept.
She closed her eyes, losing the war with
herself, feeling oddly victorious.
The air in the earl’s chest whooshed out in a
shaky gasp. He touched her face and his fingers, resting lightly on
her cheek, trembled. Could he actually be nervous too?
The earl slipped his hand gently along her
jaw, cupping the back of her neck and drawing her to him. He rubbed
the curve of her mouth with his thumb. She did not open her eyes
but could feel his compelling stare as her lips parted slightly,
her breathing coming in short, quick pants.
“ Oh, God,” he whispered
unsteadily.
He kissed her then, his hungry mouth gliding
across the smooth surface of her lips, back and forth with ever
increasing warmth. A groan escaped from somewhere deep in his
chest. His hand at her neck slid into her hair, grasping the silken
mass with almost painful intensity.
Catherine didn’t care. She wrapped her arms
around his shoulders and clung to him as though her life depended
on it. Perhaps it did, for in that instant the peripheral world
ceased to exist. The only thing that mattered was now, what she
felt, what she wanted. And she wanted the earl.
Her pelvis began to tingle unbearably, and
when he drew her up against his chest, the urge to press that part
of herself against him became almost irresistible. Overwhelmed by
desire, she was confused by her response. Wasn’t one kiss enough?
And if it was, why was she burning all over? Why did she want
another and another?
The earl conveyed no such confusion despite
seeming at first unsure. His movements were forceful and skilled.
Undoubtedly, he had been here before and he knew exactly what he
wanted.
They fell onto the picnic blanket, their lips
never parting. He did not rush her as if he knew that would be a
mistake. Instead, he continued to kiss her, that simple activity
relentlessly stoking her passion. She moaned aloud and felt his
excitement surge in response.
At her waist, Catherine became aware of his
other hand as it inched slowly, inexorably up her ribs toward her
breast. She ceased to breathe in an agony of anticipation. His
fingers finally reached their destination, and he gently grasped
the tender mound, rolling it beneath his palm, stimulating the
sensitive peak. She moaned again.
His touch moved downward, slipping under the
edge of her skirt and skimming along the delicate skin of her inner
thigh. Her legs began to quiver uncontrollably. She knew what he
intended, but so lost was she in the magic of the spell he was
weaving, she actually began to fear he might stop.
But his kisses continued unabated, fevered
kisses, covering her eyelids and cheeks and throat, finding her
mouth again. He whispered ardent words against her ear, his breath
hot and rapid, before he buried his face in the sensitive area
between her neck and shoulder.
With a single, deft movement, the earl
reached for the drawstring of her drawers and, loosening the waist,
eased his hand inside the garment to her hip. Splaying his fingers
over the soft
Catherine was shocked by the intensity of the
earl’s look. Mesmerized, she could not tear her gaze from his as he
withdrew the remaining morsel and very deliberately placed it in
his mouth. He continued to stare at her as he sucked the juice from
each of his sticky fingers, one by one.
She had no idea what that little ritual
meant, however, neither was she a fool. Unsophisticated she might
be, but the overt sexual nature of the communication left no doubt
about the earl’s intentions. He had sent her an invitation, pure
and simple.
Catherine knew he held his breath, her
indecision as obvious to him as it was to herself. Now was the time
to clarify her position with the forward gentleman. Unfortunately,
she felt powerless to deny him. Nothing had prepared her for the
intense onslaught of emotion that had taken her mind and body.
Perhaps one kiss—nothing wrong with that, was there?—just so she
might satisfy a need she was only now beginning to accept.
She closed her eyes, losing the war with
herself, feeling oddly victorious.
The air in the earl’s chest whooshed out in a
shaky gasp. He touched her face and his fingers, resting lightly on
her cheek, trembled. Could he actually be nervous too?
The earl slipped his hand gently along her
jaw, cupping the back of her neck and drawing her to him. He rubbed
the curve of her mouth with his thumb. She did not open her eyes
but could feel his compelling stare as her lips parted slightly,
her breathing coming in short, quick pants.
“ Oh, God,” he whispered
unsteadily.
He kissed her then, his hungry mouth gliding
across the smooth surface of her lips, back and forth with ever
increasing warmth. A groan escaped from somewhere deep in his
chest. His hand at her neck slid into her hair, grasping the silken
mass with almost painful intensity.
Catherine didn’t care. She wrapped her arms
around his shoulders and clung to him as though her life depended
on it. Perhaps it did, for in that instant the peripheral world
ceased to exist. The only thing that mattered was now, what she
felt, what she wanted. And she wanted the earl.
Her pelvis began to tingle unbearably, and
when he drew her up against his chest, the urge to press that part
of herself against him became almost irresistible. Overwhelmed by
desire, she was confused by her response. Wasn’t one kiss enough?
And if it was, why was she burning all over? Why did she want
another and another?
The earl conveyed no such confusion despite
seeming at first unsure. His movements were forceful and skilled.
Undoubtedly, he had been here before and he knew exactly what he
wanted.
They fell onto the picnic blanket, their lips
never parting. He did not rush her as if he knew that would be a
mistake. Instead, he continued to kiss her, that simple activity
relentlessly stoking her passion. She moaned aloud and felt his
excitement surge in response.
At her waist, Catherine became aware of his
other hand as it inched slowly, inexorably up her ribs toward her
breast. She ceased to breathe in an agony of anticipation. His
fingers finally reached their destination, and he gently grasped
the tender mound, rolling it beneath his palm, stimulating the
sensitive peak. She moaned again.
His touch moved downward, slipping under the
edge of her skirt and skimming along the delicate skin of her inner
thigh. Her legs began to quiver uncontrollably. She knew what he
intended, but so lost was she in the magic of the spell he was
weaving, she actually began to fear he might stop.
But his kisses continued unabated, fevered
kisses, covering her eyelids and cheeks and throat, finding her
mouth again. He whispered ardent words against her ear, his breath
hot and rapid, before he buried his face in the sensitive area
between her neck and shoulder.
With a single, deft movement, the earl
reached for the drawstring of her drawers and, loosening the waist,
eased his hand inside the garment to her hip. Splaying his fingers
over the soft
Similar Books
