Oh, he very much could, but his body couldn’t seem to move as she lowered her head to his, her eyes lighting up with each inch gained.
He was mesmerized by that look.
And then her lips brushed across his. So softly, he thought he might be imagining it. Certainly not like the press, or rather peck, he had given her earlier, but a simple, word-defyingbrush.
Oliver gripped the seats—hard—his muscles straining to keep from pulling her closer. She lifted away from him slightly, barely, only to lower her head again and brush her lips over his again, tempting him,daringhim not to respond. Her tongue grazed at the seam where they joined.
He heard a snap in his mind.
He felt it in his body.
This had been unfolding since the first moment they met at her house after he broke in. Every encounter, every word spoken, chipped away at something inside him no matter how professional he had tried to keep their encounters. But now? Now she had successfully pushed him to the brink of every limit he had set for himself.
Oliver lost the battle with his mind.
His hands circled her waist, hauling her up against him as his tongue darted out, claiming those mischievous lips. He did not relent until she yielded, granting him access to her warmth, her taste.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss.
Nor was it rough.
It was the kiss of a man who had reached his limits and a woman who had driven him there, but who matched him at every step. He groaned as the scent of sweetness wrapped around him, clinging to him like an embrace he couldn’t escape.
And he couldn’t.
He didn’t even try.
She shifted, settling onto his lap, her arms winding around his shoulders. He hugged her closer still, until his chest pressed up against hers, leaving no space, no part of them truly separate.
She stole his breath.
He couldn’t even rear back to gasp for more, his head trapped between her and the velvet-lined seat.
God above.
Fortunately, she seemed to require breath as badly as he did, for she pulled back, her breathing just as rushed, just as bothered as his.
He dragged in several deep breaths.
Christ, she was beautiful. Even in this moment with the dampened light shimmering across her skin. Especially in this moment. The lower half of his body tightened.
No.
Dangerous.
He gripped her waist and in one smooth motion deposited her back onto her seat, taking a moment for his lungs to reclaim their normal rhythm.
“That was dangerous, Louisa,” he warned, his tone serious.
She laughed, bright eyes shining with stars. “But it was a marvelous birthday gift.”
A curse flew through his head. “Only you would see a kiss as a marvelous birthday gift.”
“Well, since you stole my first kiss in the Havendish garden, you might as well claim it thoroughly.”
Oliver didn’t rightly know what to say to that. Did all women distinguish between pecks and kisses the way Louisa did? Did they all hold their first kiss as sacred? Don’t be a damn fool, Oliver. Of course they do. As for the first point, peck versus kiss, he couldn’t say. But he wondered what she would think if she ever remembered that she had also pecked him once on the cheek ten years ago. Not that it had any bearing on what had happened here tonight, but he had never been quite able to shake the memory.
He hoped she didn’t remember—never remembered.
