Mine.
He wanted to erase all memories of other men from her mind. Every single kiss. It was no secret Lady Belle flirted lavishly with gentlemen. For years, he’d watched with detached interest as she lured gentleman to her side with her glamorous smile. At the time, it had been quite astonishing that she remained unwed.
Now that smile was directed at him and he felt a curious shifting in the region of his heart. Understanding was a marvelous thing, he mused. He understood now why she had remained unwed and that her flirtation had been a way to keep men at a certain distance.
He took a step closer to her, his thumb trailing the edge of her jaw. “You expect me to believe that another suitor was better at the art of kissing than me?”
A low, throaty laugh met his ears. “Is the art of kissing not to kiss so passionately, to kiss as if it were the last kiss you will ever receive? You kiss as though you caught a lady in the garden and she wore a pretty nightgown.”
“Are you saying my kiss lacked passion?”
It was unthinkable.
She waved a dismissing hand in the air. “I am saying, my dear Lord Westfield, that you stole a kiss. Granted, a stolen kiss is just as exhilarating, but it lacks the fervor of one in which a man kisses a lady as though the world is crumbling around them.”
Simon’s pulse sped up. “Is that how you wished to be kissed?” The thought of anyone kissing her in that manner set his teeth on edge. It nettled him almost as much as her continued use of his title.
She tilted her head to the side, her eyes filled with amusement. “I almost died. You see the world differently than I do.”
“So the light shines more brilliantly than before,” he murmured, surprised by how much he felt the same, though for an entirely different reason.
Her.
“Yes.”
Simon watched as her brow creased in puzzlement at his correct assumption—or perhaps she picked up on his sentiment. It was clear to him she had believed no one would be able to peel away the protective layers she’d erected in an act of self-preservation.
But he too had experienced the dullness and bland acceptance of a lackluster life before she burst into his existence with a splash of color. After that, and rather miraculously, he’d seen everything differently—more clearly, more brightly.
Because ofher.
So she wished to be kissed as though the world crumbled around them? Simon had always prided himself being a gentleman. But by Christ, what man would refuse a lady her desires? What man could resist being drawn into such a world?
He took another step closer until mere inches separated them again and she had to crane back her lovely neck to meet his eyes, exposing the soft flesh where her collarbones joined in the process.
His eyes dropped to her pulse, ticking against the pale slope of her arched neck and he let his tongue flick across his lower lip. Dipping his head until his lips were pressed softly against hers, he brought his finger to rest on her vein. Her breath was caught between his lips the same moment her pulse quickened beneath his finger, causing him to growl in approval.
When she leaned into him, it was all the invitation he needed. He deepened the kiss and slid his hand to caress the skin of her exposed leg. A gasp met his touch and his hand traveled up her leg until he cupped her buttocks. She groaned against his lips and he pressed his manhood against the flatness of her midriff while his tongue made love to her mouth, showing her just how much he wanted her.
In one swift motion, Simon lifted her up and gently laid her on the grass, half covering her with his body. He kneaded the soft swell of her breast as his tongue danced with hers, a sudden urgency driving him hard.
A harsh breath escaped him as she arched into him, a soft whimpering sigh leaving her. His hand dipped lower to her hip before it ventured to bunch her nightgown in his fists.
Somewhere in the back of his mind sanity returned, albeit on a thin thread. “Belle,” he murmured against the hollow of her neck, before lifting his head to rest his forehead on hers. “Tell me to stop.” Because he sure as hell would not break away from her on his own. He needed to hear her say the words.
Those beautiful all-knowing eyes flitted open, staring at him with such emotion, such trust, that he almost howled up at the moon. In answer, and to his complete astonishment, her hands wandered up to his chest and around the back of his neck before she pulled him down to her.
“Hell,” he muttered before his lips crushed against hers again. His body demanded he feel her flesh against his. She wanted him, and he did not possess the strength to walk away from her. Not now, not when his body was aflame with desire. Never again would she say that his kiss lacked passion. And if this was the only chance he’d receive with her, then he’d damn well make it unforgettable.
He tore his mouth away from her, the hard evidence of his desire pressing up against her. “Belle, if we do not stop now, I won’t be able to.”
Her tongue darted out to taste the bare skin of his chest and he groaned. His resolve slipped. She seemed to know exactly what she wanted from him and he would not refuse her.
“I don’t want you to stop,” she murmured with her eyes still shut, “Simon.”
At the soft purr of his name, his control broke, a possessive fire flaring to life inside of him. Simon was far past thinking clearly. Her fingers were stroking circles on his chest and it wreaked havoc with his senses. He studied the best way rid of her of the offensive material clinging to her body.
As if sensing his thoughts she gave a throaty chuckle and with a few tugs the garment fell open, exposing her ample breasts and the jagged the scar that marred her beautiful skin.
