‘I would like you to kiss me.’
There was a pause, a beat where her mind went blank and panic flooded through her veins, urging her to run, before he said, ‘Why?’
She hadn’t expected that response; a yes or more likely a no but not why. She had her reasons, but she did not want to share them all, so she settled on a version nearly the truth. ‘Because… the last person, theonlyperson, to kiss me, if you could call it that, was Chorley. It was not an event to write sonnets about. Hesort of lunged and his lips were so dry, it was like being attacked by a bundle of twigs, only there was fear mixed in. I do not want it to be the lone kiss I ever receive. I would prefer to have a new memory, one of kissing a young, handsome man whose mouth looks…’ she paused, unsure if she should go on but she’d come this far, so why not? ‘…whose mouth looks soft and inviting.’
She didn’t add that she couldn’t stop thinking about kissing Edward, that it was all she had thought about for days. She also didn’t tell him how she had found him attractive since she had first laid eyes on him and the feeling had only grown as she had come to like him. Pride held her tongue. She didn’t want him to realise how desperate she was to kisshim. They were not destined to be together forever, he was not going to marry a woman who had no connections or money, but they could enjoy this.
‘I am only three years younger than you,’ he said when she had started to believe he was not going to say anything more.
‘I notice you do not dispute the handsome.’
His lips twitched. ‘That is a given.’
‘I can take it if the answer is no.’ It would be embarrassing but no less than being found hiding between two potted plants or making a disgraceful noise on the piano. Embarrassment was not as bad as never having asked, which she would have regretted her whole life.
He laughed softly. ‘As if I would deny such a request, but are you sure you want this from me?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Why me and not Christopher, for example?’
‘It would be like kissing a child.’ Her whole body revolted at the idea and not because Christopher was only twenty-one but because he was not Edward. She only wanted to kiss the manin front of her, but as he wasn’t moving towards her to make it happen, she was not about to admit to it.
‘And Tobias?’ he asked. ‘Actually, there is no need to answer that question. I can see why you would not want to approach him with this.’
‘The duke has been very generous and I am sure he is a nice man underneath.’ Kate was unsure why she was defending him. It had never crossed her mind to ask Tobias to kiss her; he barely crossed her mind at all. It was Edward whom she thought about almost constantly, but this careful analysis didn’t sound like he was experiencing the same obsession. ‘A simple no is fine if you do not want to do this.’ She made to drop her hand, but he caught her wrist.
‘I have already said I am not going to refuse. I am simply trying to understand the terms of our arrangement. Is it a meeting of lips only? Or can I touch you, say, here?’ His thumb slid down the inside of her arm, pushing back her sleeve and coming to rest at the juncture of her elbow, the touch innocent and yet also decadent in its pleasure.
‘I… I thought we might… see how it goes.’
‘Ah,’ he said softly, ‘but you know how I like rules, boundaries. I want to understand what I am allowed—’ his gaze flickered to her neck ‘—and what is forbidden.’
She was swaying, leaning towards him. ‘Just a kiss,’ she murmured. There was so much she didn’t know about; she would only reveal her inexperience by giving him rules.
‘Very well.’
When his thumb left her skin it was like a small bereavement. But then he was gently tugging her downwards, his fingers sliding along her jaw, cupping her face and lowering it so her lips hovered over his, breathing his air. It was she who closedthe gap, desperate for his touch. His mouth was soft and warm; he moved, coaxing her to respond. Her hand on one of his wide shoulders steadied her; beneath her fingers she could feel the warmth of him through his tailcoat. She wished he had taken it off; she would have liked to touch him through his shirt, to feel the contours of his muscles as she ran her hands along his arms. Her hand slipped round into the hair at the nape of his neck. He grunted and her heart thrilled at the knowledge she had made him make that noise. He tugged her until she was sitting on his lap, his mouth never leaving hers as he pressed firmer, his fingertips resting against her cheekbone.
As she threaded her arms around his neck, the kiss turned wilder, deeper, his tongue brushing against hers. His thighs were solid beneath her legs. One arm came around her waist, pulling her closer. He pressed open-mouthed kisses against the length of her neck and she whimpered, arching so he could reach more skin.
It was no wonder women became mistresses; she’d had no idea it was possible to feel like this. Before the press of his mouth against hers, she’d thought submitting to a man must all be about the money or the protection he could offer, but no, this was what drove people, this mindless wonder of touch.
She tugged on his hair, wanting his mouth back on hers. He obliged, the curve of his smile a sweet contrast to the way his lips lit a fire within her. She wanted to rub herself against him like a cat, but she had no experience, no knowledge if this restless feeling building inside her was normal. Even with the fog of desire surrounding her, she did not want to make things awkward by grabbing at him when he did not want that.
Gradually, she sensed a shift in him, the slowing of his movement, a slight loosening of his grip. Her mind screamed at her to tighten hers, to stop him from pulling away from him, butthe part of her that still had a grip on reality remembered she had only asked him for one kiss. He had not agreed to anything else and now he was bringing things to an end, she could not mourn it or push for more. For a moment, his lips lingered against hers, soft and gentle but with a hint of finality.
Their breathing filled the room, loud, as if they had been running. His head rested against her chin. From this angle she could see the swirl of his crown. She touched the tip of her finger to it, just because she could. When she removed herself from her perch on his legs, she would not be able to touch him again, so she took her fill, running her nails lightly over his scalp. He shivered against her as she pressed deeper, grazing along his neck, across his shoulders.
‘Better?’ he asked gruffly. He lifted his head; his eyes were nearly completely black, the pupils wide.
‘Huh?’ She was too far gone for words.
‘Better than your previous experience?’
‘Oh. Yes. Much. Thank you.’
His lips curved but somehow the gesture was sad. ‘Good.’ He pressed a fleeting kiss to her neck. ‘I am glad.’
