The itching insistence twined with the compulsion to, at the very least, distract her from her glumness. Both seemed to be excellent moves on his part.
They neared the end of the corridor, and their footsteps slowed.
He looked at the curtains, once again drawn against the night. “I wonder if it’s cloudy tonight.” He glanced her way and, when she looked at him, caught her gaze and arched a brow. “Shall we see?”
Amusement touched her lips, and a gleam—possibly of excitement—shone in her eyes. “Indeed. Let’s.”
She stepped forward and pushed between the curtains.
He followed, tucking the curtains closed behind him.
She’d gone to peer out of the bow window. Looking up, she said, “No moon. No stars.”
He didn’t wait to hear more, just curled an arm about her waist and turned her to him.
She came, unquestionably eagerly, her head rising as she looked into his face.
He had no idea what she saw there and didn’t wait for her to comment. He raised a hand and framed her jaw, tipping her face up as he bent his head and set his lips to hers.
And the magic was there again, from the first touch, the first gentle brush of their lips.
They both froze for a split second, as if they’d each been waiting for just that confirmation.
Then they dove into the kiss.
Hungrily, greedily, their lips met—in clear demand, in blatant wanting.
Provocatively, she parted hers, and he plunged in, needing to taste her again, to savor the delights of her and glory in the heady surge of desire that rose through them both.
Compelling, heated, that combined desire was a lure like no other, enticing, inciting…
Her mouth was a lush haven, a cornucopia of pleasure at which he wantonly supped. Her hands, which had fallen to his chest, clenched, her fingers curling in the lapels of his hunting jacket.
Then using her grip on his coat, she brazenly stepped into him, breast to chest, and pressed an intense, even more incendiary kiss on him.
Sparks flared, and flames leapt. Then a conflagration roared into being.
Like the surge of a good hunter to the huntsman’s horn, their passions rose and seized them. Owned them.
Drove them on, into a searing exchange of unrelenting hunger and deepening need that left them mentally reeling.
Addie clung to Nicholas and gloried in the moment, in the heat, and most of all, in their exuberant passions. Amazed at the way her senses whirled and spun, immersed in the flames that raged and burned yet only left her hungering for more, she drank in every last iota of sensation.
And she wanted more.More.
With flagrant intent, she kissed him ever more fervently, astonished at her reaction, at the need that bubbled and surged inside her. Giddily pleased at all she felt, she pressed closer yet, eager, demanding, and wanting to know what came next.
One of his hands rose to cup her breast, and she gasped through the kiss and rejoiced.
Then she put her mind—what remained of her wits—to crafting a way to encourage him further, to make it clear what she wanted.
More.
Blessed man, without further prompting, he gave her what she desired.
His hand closed, and despite the fabric of her riding jacket, his clever fingers sought and found her nipple and gently squeezed.
She nearly swooned at the sharp pleasure that speared through her.
