Like Twilight’s, too, her dusky hair.
Jane’s fingertips tentatively touched his chest, then flattened against his muscles. She sighed.
And he sighed more words into her neck, into that soft, scented spot behind her ear.
I saw her upon nearer view,
A spirit, yet a woman, too…
A countenance in which did meet,
Sweet records, promises as sweet.
Her hands traveled over his shoulders, around his neck, tangling in his hair.
He had finished the poem, but he was not yet done with her. He wrapped his hands around her waist and sketched a circle round and round her navel, then pulled at the ribbon encircling her ribs. His fingers climbed up the ribbon as if it were a ladder, stopping at her bodice. He tugged it down and took a peek. He dipped his head and placed his lips above her breasts. A short kiss before darting his tongue out and using it to trace the line of skin nestled against the bodice’s edge.
He lifted his gaze to look at her. “No fichu.”
“I did not think. To put one on. This morning. Despite the cold. Too tired.” Her words came in quick huffs. She was breathless and glassy-eyed. She reached up and ran her fingertips down the side of his face. “I’ve never seen you this way before. Your eyes are like glowing embers. They would warm any woman on a chilly winter night.”
He dipped until his nose grazed hers. “I’ll warm you.”
She turned her head to avoid his eyes, but he put an index finger to her cheek and turned her back. He had to be this close, so she could see more than eyes glowing with lust.
She swallowed. “There are some things I know I should not do before I do them.”
“And yet?”
“I do them, anyway. I’m sure you can enumerate one or two instances of which I speak.”
“At least.”
“I’m about to do one now. Do something I should not.”
“Tell me and let me be the judge. Better yet,showme.”
“I should walk away,” she said, pulling farther from his embrace, her eyes skittering every way but toward him. “This… you… are dangerous.”
“I’mno danger, Jane. Not to you. Never.” In fact, he’d never touch her again if it meant keeping her safe.
Her eyes finally locked on him. “You have no idea how dangerous you are to me. You make me feel different.”
He lost all ability to breathe. “Wanton?”
“Daring.” Her fingers wrapped around his shoulders, and she pulled their bodies even closer together. She rose on tiptoe and crashed her lips into his.
He froze, but not for long. His arms bound around her, holding tight, despite the flicker of distress in his shoulder.
She lifted from the kiss only a breath, her face a sweet, pale oval, and nipped at his lower lip.
He left her lips and tasted the tip of her chin, the curve of her jaw, found the tender flesh of her earlobe. He tugged it between his teeth.
Her head rolled back, and a moan rolled out of her throat, carrying a single, potent word. “George.”
Every ounce of control in his body collapsed, like a dam giving way to torrents of rushing water. Or rushing passion, consuming need. He’d gladly drown in it. He wanted her more than anything he’d desired to obtain before, more than good reason or logic allowed. He wanted her, even though he knew he could not keep her safe.
He crushed his mouth against hers. She gasped, and he swept his tongue between her lips. Each new kiss seemed an extension of the previous one. And where the last had been joyous yet experimental, hesitant, now they knew each other better, grew bolder.
