Read Online My Fair Mistress by Tracy Anne Warren - Free Book Online Page A

run a fingertip over her cheek. Didn’t even lean close enough to let her hear him breathe.
    What is he doing? Is he just lying there, watching me?
    Goose bumps broke out over her limbs, nerves rippling just below the surface of her skin. She tried to keep her eyes shut, but finally could stand it no more.
    Her lids popped open, her gaze flying immediately to meet his own. Lying on his side with his head propped against one hand, he studied her, an expression of patient curiosity on his chiseled face.
    “What are you doing?” she demanded, flummoxed to discover him in such a pose.
    Up went one dark brow. “Observing you. I wanted to see exactly how long you’d lie there with your eyes squeezed shut.”
    She frowned. “Why would you care whether or not my eyes are closed?”
    A slow, seductive smile curved his lips. “Because I want to see you when we make love, see the look in your eyes while I’m giving you pleasure. What’s more, I want you to see the look in my eyes while you’re giving me pleasure back.”
    Her lips parted on a silent exhale.
    He skimmed a knuckle over her jaw. “You have truly beautiful skin, do you know that? Creamy. Soft. Translucent.” With his thumb, he traced her cheek and across her bottom lip in a slow, meandering caress. “Pretty cheeks, pretty lips. Kissable lips.”
    Her mouth throbbed at his touch.
    “I’ve only now realized I have yet to kiss you. You wouldn’t let me before, as I recall.”
    A small shiver rippled through her. “No,” she murmured in soft reply.
    “Seems I shall have to rectify that, now that we are here together. Alone.”
    She waited, forcing her eyes to remain open as he leaned across her, his shoulders seeming wider than ever, his arms long and powerful.
    Despite his confident words, she didn’t expect anything grand. She’d never much liked kissing, finding the act little more than a lot of wet, clumsy rubbing.
    But when they met hers, Rafe’s lips were warm and smooth, and only the faintest bit moist. Silky, almost feather-light, they played over her own—skilled, certain, and in no way clumsy. He didn’t demand. Didn’t press her lips painfully into her teeth. Didn’t try to force open her mouth, or jam in his tongue.
    With palpable relief, tension began to ease from her shoulders and neck, her thoughts drawn to the sensations he was creating. Delicious sensations, sensations she hadn’t imagined she might feel. Her lips parted beneath his, allowing him greater access, greater freedom.
    Suddenly she wanted more.
    As if sensing her response, he deepened the kiss ever so slightly, letting his warm, sweet breath fill her mouth. She tasted the brandy they’d drunk earlier, sharp but without the sting now.
    His tongue emerged. She waited for it to invade her mouth, to gag her like some wriggling snake. Instead, he licked her, reminiscent of the way he’d licked her palms earlier when they’d stood in the downstairs foyer. Using only the tip of his tongue, he painted her lips with a thin damp line that left them moist and aching.
    Suddenly, she couldn’t get enough breath, her lungs searching for air. Nerve endings alive, she lay enthralled as he repeated the process, circling her lips from the opposite direction this time.
    He groaned, the sound vibrating against her mouth before he angled her head and slanted his lips over hers to take their kiss to the next level. Blood beat at her temples, vision blurring as he kissed her in myriad ways, kissed her as she had never before been kissed. She lost all sense of time, of place, her mind dulling as he drew upon her—his touch that of a master, hungry yet patient, demanding but oh so exquisitely tender.
    After a while, he coaxed her mouth wider. And when he stroked his tongue over hers, over her teeth and inner cheeks, what she experienced wasn’t a sense of invasion, but invitation. A need to take him inside, to let him have more of her, as much as he desired.
    Without thought, she began to kiss