“Do not go,” she breathed before going up on tiptoe and covering her mouth with his.
He moved like lightning or the single beat of a bothered heart, crushing his body to hers and cinching her to his torso. He rolled until her back pressed against the wall, and his forearms pressed in on either side of her head, caging her. He dipped his head until their lips were oh-so dangerously close. He smelled of tea and winter roses, his breath a strange winter warmth.
“Taking a risk, Jane,” he said.
She nodded.
“Not all risks lead to pain. Some lead to pleasure.”
“Ha.” Why did he have to remind her of the risks? She wanted todowithout thinking, without worrying. She turned her head to the side.
His knuckles pressed softly against her jaw and pushed her head back around until they were face to face once more. “Are you backing down already?”
No. Maybe?
“I dare you to touch me.”
Her body complied before her mind could answer. She slipped her hands over and around his shoulders, tangling her fingers in the thick hair at the nape of his neck, a little too long and absolutely perfect.
“And to let me touch you,” he rasped.
“Yes.”
He took her mouth, not bothering to ease into a kiss as urgent as a fatal wound. He sipped from and nipped at her lips, one of his hands hitched up her wrap and shift and cupped her knee. The hand smoothed up the length of her thigh and between her legs. Exactly where she’d touched herself last night, thinking of him. The hot center of her tightened, and her muscles clenched, her legs pressing his hand together and tighter against her center. His fingers played in her curls and then stroked down.
It was scandalous. She broke away from the kiss, terrified of the need coursing through her. “This touch”—she breathed rapidly, trying to find the words—“is too much.”
His nose nuzzled hers. “If that is true, I will stop. But this is a game of danger we play. You must flirt withtoo muchto win.”
“Another game.” Entirely different from the one she’d been playing with the other men. That one won her a placid, practical match. This one? “What does winning look like in this game?”
“Facing the abyss and coming out alive. Daring a bit too far only to remain standing at the end.”
This felt too far. It also felt perfect. “Touch me, then,” she whispered, returning to their kiss.
He kissed the column of her neck down to her collarbone and then pushed her shift down her arm, exposing a shoulder and her breast. The cool skin puckered her nipple, then George’swarm breath and the wet flick of his tongue ignited her every nerve.His finger slid deeper inside her, his thumb playing with an unknown part of her that magnified every sensation tenfold. This felt better than riding at a breakneck pace across the moors in breeches. It felt better than climbing trees. It certainly felt better than falling out of them. It was better than chocolate cake and Christmas morning rolled all into one.
She crushed her mouth to his.My George,she thought.Mine. Mine. His fingers moved in mysterious circles, pressing, flicking, building something inside her to an inexorable boil. And then she shattered. There was no other way to describe it. She went limp and lifeless as his arms tightened around her, rolling her once more so she leaned into his body as his back rested against the stable wall. He traced hot kisses over every swath of skin available to his reach.
“There,” she vaguely heard him say from a distance, “are you dead, maimed, or otherwise injured?”
Far from it. “I’m not quite sure.”
His fingers sketched circles onto her belly. “Has flirting with danger delivered pleasure or pain, dear heart?”
“Pleasure.” Most definitely pleasure.
His hand gripped her thigh and stroked it up and down. “Then we are victorious.”
“You are, you mean.”
“Weare.”
As her body and mind slowly knitted itself back together, she became conscious of the hard length pressing against her belly. Curious, she slid her hand between them and pressed, feeling the outline with her fingers. She looked up at him. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead. His long dark hair fell into his eyes. His chest lifted up and down in a fast-paced rhythm.
“Does it hurt?” She dragged her fingernails down his length, then up all the way to the buttons at his fall.
He groaned.
