her passions. His mouth on her neck, the scrape of his teeth, the rough glide of a whiskered cheek over delicate skin—all were alien sensations to her. Every surprised gasp that softened into a sigh, every tensing of her muscles that gave way to languorous relaxation spurred him on. It wasn’t until he felt her shiver that he claimed her mouth. His tongue stole boldly inside, tangling with hers, sliding sensually between her lips, mimicking the act that he hoped would follow.
He could feel some of the tension draining from her, but her hands remained clasped together. Gently he pried them apart and placed her arms around his neck, bringing them closer together. Her palms flattened on his shoulders, her breasts crushed against his chest. The reduced distance between them allowed him to deepen the kiss further.
He threaded his fingers into her hair, loosening pins and pulling the ropes of braids free as he angled her head to take her mouth more fully. She moaned, and he knew it to be a sound of pleasure.
Inspiration struck him as he imagined that the weight of her hair had to bring some discomfort. With his hands buried in the silken strands, he began to gently massage her scalp and the back of her neck. Any remaining tension in her body fled. She became boneless and pliant in his arms. Her guard was down, and he seized the opportunity to increase the level of intimacy. He closed his hand over her breast, kneading gently, lifting the generous globe and teasing the nipple until it pebbled beneath his questing fingers. He treated the other breast to the same tantalizing touch, before tugging the bodice down and baring her to his gaze.
At the rush of cool air on her naked breasts, Abbi started. She didn’t even know how they had gotten to that point. She only knew that she felt languid, her body warming from the inside out. The tension that had settled in her neck and shoulders had migrated to a place deep inside her. Her body was coiled tightly, waiting for something. Menace. He was truly a menace; she thought. Those words were becoming a near constant refrain for her.
She wasn’t entirely ignorant of the process. Having grown up in the countryside, it was impossible not to understand the mating process. Living with Lavinia, even for the short time that she had, had provided quite the education, as well. She knew the words, even if she didn’t know precisely how it all worked.
Nervous, because he had managed to rattle her so already, she glanced at the clock. Two minutes. He’d left her mindless and half naked in only two minutes, which meant he had six more to go.
Michael turned her face away from the clock, kissed her again, before dipping his head to take one tightly furled nipple into his mouth. A soft whimper escaped her. The sensation was too intense. The damp heat of his mouth ignited a fire in her. She could feel the tell-tale moisture at the juncture of her thighs, the ratcheting of the tension inside her. Her mind fogged again, falling prey to his sensual onslaught. She was under siege and losing ground rapidly.
Abbi felt the overwhelming urge to move her hips, to press herself against the hardness of his thigh, but she didn’t. She forced herself to remain still, to be as passive a participant as possible. It was the only way she would walk out of that room tonight without giving up more of her pride than she was willing to, and other things, she thought grimly. Another glance at the clock and she nearly wept. Four minutes in and an eternity to go.
Abbi steeled herself against her own traitorous urges. It wasn't simply the heat and the coiling need. Even innocent as she was, she could acknowledge the true nature of her feelings. It was also the curiosity. A little voice whispered in her mind, beguiling her. If ever a man could show her the nature of desire, it was Michael.
She was not as passive in the experience as she wanted to be. He touched her, and her body strained toward him. Blood rushed in her
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