revealing the neat braided coil at her nape. He let the cloth drop to the ground. A smile wove through his voice. “You can’t escape me, you know.”
The teasing words seemed to contain a hint of warning.
Lottie stood in the shelter of his body, absorbing his warmth, his spicy masculine scent. How had she come to be alone in the darkness with him? She did not believe in happenstance. This could only be a result of her own relentless attraction to him…an attraction that seemed to be returned in full measure. As they both fell silent, Lottie became aware of a nearby couple, their entwined figures barely visible through the trees. The muffled sounds of sexual revelry brought a rush of heat to Lottie’s face.
“Take me back to the house, please,” she said.
Lord Sydney released her. Lottie stepped away, almost bumping against the large tree behind her. Following, he pressed her against the wide trunk, using his arms to protect her from the rough bark. Her breath caught sharply. Her hands slid to his upperarms, where the brutal swell of muscle was manifest through his coat. She knew that he was going to kiss her, that he wanted her. And heaven help her, she wanted him too.
He stroked the curve of her cheek with a single fingertip, so carefully, as if she were a wild creature that would bolt at the slightest sign of haste. Her breath quickened as he touched her chin and tilted her head back in an angle of surrender.
His gentle mouth descended to hers, molding, coaxing, until she parted her lips with a gasp of pleasure. The tip of his tongue stroked the edge of her teeth, ventured farther, brushed the inside of her cheek in a burning, delicate exploration. The kiss made her light-headed, and she wrapped her arms around his neck in a desperate bid for balance. He let her have more of his weight, pinning her securely between his body and the unyielding oak at her back. She twisted and pulled at him, until he made a soothing noise and ran his hands down her back. The slow caress only sharpened her need, making her arch against him in a blind, instinctive search. She felt something against the fabric of her rough-woven skirt…the intimate bulge of his sex.
The rigid length of him matched perfectly in the notch between her thighs. His hardness pressed into her softness, his mouth possessed hers with wicked skill, while his arms surrounded her. Sliding her hands into his hair, she curved her fingers around his scalp, beneath the thick locks that gleamed like silk in the fragmented moonlight. A harsh breath escapedhim, and his lips slid along her throat. Even in her innocence, she sensed the wealth of experience in his careful touch, the hunger he kept so tightly shackled.
Her peasant blouse had slipped over one shoulder, revealing the white gleam of her skin. His fingers stole to the ribbon of her gathered neckline and tugged deftly, causing the crumpled linen to slide downward. Gradually his hand eased beneath her chemise. Her cool, soft nipple tightened against the calloused pads of his fingers, the peak turning harder and warmer with each circling stroke.
Lottie pressed her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. She had to stop him now, before her will was completely demolished. “No. Please stop. I’m sorry.”
His hand slid from her blouse, and he touched her damp lips with his fingers. “Have I frightened you?” he whispered.
Lottie shook her head, somehow resisting the urge to curl into his embrace like a sun-warmed cat. “No…I’ve frightened myself.”
For some reason her admission made him smile. His fingers moved to her throat, tracing the fragile line with a sensitivity that made her breath catch. Tugging the peasant blouse back up to her shoulder, he retied the frayed ribbon that secured the neckline. “Then I’ll stop,” he said. “Come—I’ll take you to the house.”
He stayed close to her as they continued through the forest, occasionally moving to push a branch outof the way, or
The teasing words seemed to contain a hint of warning.
Lottie stood in the shelter of his body, absorbing his warmth, his spicy masculine scent. How had she come to be alone in the darkness with him? She did not believe in happenstance. This could only be a result of her own relentless attraction to him…an attraction that seemed to be returned in full measure. As they both fell silent, Lottie became aware of a nearby couple, their entwined figures barely visible through the trees. The muffled sounds of sexual revelry brought a rush of heat to Lottie’s face.
“Take me back to the house, please,” she said.
Lord Sydney released her. Lottie stepped away, almost bumping against the large tree behind her. Following, he pressed her against the wide trunk, using his arms to protect her from the rough bark. Her breath caught sharply. Her hands slid to his upperarms, where the brutal swell of muscle was manifest through his coat. She knew that he was going to kiss her, that he wanted her. And heaven help her, she wanted him too.
He stroked the curve of her cheek with a single fingertip, so carefully, as if she were a wild creature that would bolt at the slightest sign of haste. Her breath quickened as he touched her chin and tilted her head back in an angle of surrender.
His gentle mouth descended to hers, molding, coaxing, until she parted her lips with a gasp of pleasure. The tip of his tongue stroked the edge of her teeth, ventured farther, brushed the inside of her cheek in a burning, delicate exploration. The kiss made her light-headed, and she wrapped her arms around his neck in a desperate bid for balance. He let her have more of his weight, pinning her securely between his body and the unyielding oak at her back. She twisted and pulled at him, until he made a soothing noise and ran his hands down her back. The slow caress only sharpened her need, making her arch against him in a blind, instinctive search. She felt something against the fabric of her rough-woven skirt…the intimate bulge of his sex.
The rigid length of him matched perfectly in the notch between her thighs. His hardness pressed into her softness, his mouth possessed hers with wicked skill, while his arms surrounded her. Sliding her hands into his hair, she curved her fingers around his scalp, beneath the thick locks that gleamed like silk in the fragmented moonlight. A harsh breath escapedhim, and his lips slid along her throat. Even in her innocence, she sensed the wealth of experience in his careful touch, the hunger he kept so tightly shackled.
Her peasant blouse had slipped over one shoulder, revealing the white gleam of her skin. His fingers stole to the ribbon of her gathered neckline and tugged deftly, causing the crumpled linen to slide downward. Gradually his hand eased beneath her chemise. Her cool, soft nipple tightened against the calloused pads of his fingers, the peak turning harder and warmer with each circling stroke.
Lottie pressed her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. She had to stop him now, before her will was completely demolished. “No. Please stop. I’m sorry.”
His hand slid from her blouse, and he touched her damp lips with his fingers. “Have I frightened you?” he whispered.
Lottie shook her head, somehow resisting the urge to curl into his embrace like a sun-warmed cat. “No…I’ve frightened myself.”
For some reason her admission made him smile. His fingers moved to her throat, tracing the fragile line with a sensitivity that made her breath catch. Tugging the peasant blouse back up to her shoulder, he retied the frayed ribbon that secured the neckline. “Then I’ll stop,” he said. “Come—I’ll take you to the house.”
He stayed close to her as they continued through the forest, occasionally moving to push a branch outof the way, or
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