She stared at him, heart hammering, head swimming. She needed to touch his wide, bare chest. Run her fingers over those muscles and feel them tense and pulse under her touch. She needed him to touch her back. To make her forget, just for a little while, who she was and what was expected of her.
“I want—” She wanted to see his gray eyes smolder with desire for her, but the words lodged in her throat. “I want you to kiss me again.”
She’d expected him to balk, to lecture her, reason with her. But in the next instant he’d gathered her in his arms and was crushing her to his chest. “God,” he whispered into her hair, voice as full of need as she. “You don’t know how much I wanted to hear you say that.”
“You did? But—” She couldn’t speak. His lips grazed her neck, just under her chin, tracing a feather-light path to her earlobe. His warm hands slid along her arms and pulled her into his heat. She could feel the hard, smooth muscles of his chest pressing against her breasts. “You’re not angry with me?”
He kissed her again, and she sighed against his temple, savoring the clean scent of his skin and hair. He pulled back. “Oh, I’m angry with you.” He gave her a piercing look. “In fact, anger doesn’t even begin to describe my feelings.”
She bit her lip, moved to step out of his arms, but then he grinned. “But I’m willing to overlook it. For the moment.”
She laughed, a relieved sound that came from deep inside. His eyes smoldered in response, and her pulse quickened.
“Oh, kiss me again, Alex. Kiss me again.” Her hands were in his hair, tugging his head down, drawing his lips to hers. “Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Don’t ever stop.”
His lips tasted of brandy, warm and sweet and intoxicating as his mouth moved over hers. And then the flavor was even stronger. He parted her lips, kissing her deeply, gently, insistently.
Lucia gripped his shoulders, then followed his example. She ran her tongue along his, wondering at the erotic feel of his intimate flesh tangling with hers. He growled with pleasure, and his hands grasped her face, taking control and positioning her for the next assault.
She loved it. At that moment she was his. Unconditional surrender. He buried his strong hands in the waves of her hair, using it to pull her closer. She moaned as his hands slid from her hair to caress her shoulders and trace a fiery path from her spine to the small of her back. He gripped her backside and pulled her hard against his straining erection. And when she gasped at the surge of desire that slashed through her, she wanted him to feel it, too. She wanted him to desire her as much as—no, more than—she desired him at that moment.
Following his lead, she ran her hands down his back, pausing for only a second before venturing lower. The muscles of his back tensed at her touch.
“You’re bolder than I’d imagined.”
“Am I?” Her hand skated over his buttocks. He inhaled sharply.
“I don’t like demanding women, Lucia,” he murmured against her cheek.
“I shall endeavor to be less demanding,” she purred, dancing her fingertips up and around to the taut muscles of his abdomen. With a shudder, he pulled away, running a hand through his already tousled hair.
She swayed when the contact was broken. She couldn’t have formed a coherent thought if her life depended on it. Her mind chanted, Alex. Alex. She smiled. She’d never seen him so dazed. So adorably flustered and . . . aroused.
He frowned at her. “I meant I don’t like women sneaking in my windows and making wild accusations.”
“Do women often sneak into your windows?” She grinned at him and stepped closer.
“Just you, sweetheart.” His molten gaze seared her. “Just you.” Though his eyes were hot with desire, he made no move to touch her again. “Dewhurst is on his way.”
She knew what he was doing. He was reaching for some last vestige of control, a final remnant of strength. He was stalling, fighting for time she didn’t want to give and didn’t have. It was already too late. She’d gone too far now. Too far to go back.
She slid easily into his arms again, kissing his neck lightly. He didn’t kiss her back but made no attempt to stop her. Beneath her lips, his pulse beat wildly, and she traced his flesh with her tongue. He groaned.
“It will be hours before your servant finds Lord Dewhurst. Do you know what I think?” she murmured in his ear.
“If it’s even remotely close to what I’m thinking, you should be arrested,” he said, voice ragged with want.
“I think you do like demanding women. I think you’ve been hoping I’d crawl through your window.” She pushed her belly against his hard member.
Alex jumped back as though he’d been burned. He held a hand up and backed away from her. “I’m going to take you home now, Lucia.” But he didn’t sound as if he meant it.
“Are you telling me or convincing yourself?” She stepped closer, and he put his hand between them again.
“We leave now or you’ll regret it.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to leave.” Taking his outstretched hand, she held it against her cheek.
“Do you know what you’re saying?” His voice was frayed, his expression a mixture of hope and incredulity. “You cannot stay.”
