His mouth covered hers. There was no hesitation, no warning, just a hard, hot, possessive kiss that drove all thoughts of laughter from her mind. She stilled in surpriseat first, then as his heat and the familiar, intoxicating taste of him spiraled through her, she softened against him.
Without conscious volition she parted her lips, opening to him, and he deepened the kiss, each sweep of his tongue sending ripples of pleasure through her.
She pressed herself against him, seeking more. She wanted to touch him, but wasn’t sure where or how. He was wearing only a shirt and breeches—and boots, of course.
Cupping her head in his hands, he lavished attention on her mouth, and when she was left gasping and helpless and wanting, he pulled back, raining tiny kisses over her closed eyelids, so tender they almost brought her to tears.
How she wished she could see him, see his eyes, his face, but it was too dark. He was just a shadow—a very hard, solid, warm one—and all she could do was close her eyes and feel. And oh... how she felt...
She smoothed her palms along his jawline, reveling in the friction of his bristles against her soft skin. He rubbed against her palms like a big cat and made a thrilling sound deep in his throat. He liked her touching him.
She slid her fingers into his thick dark hair and found it cool and slightly crispy—some kind of hair product, no doubt, to maintain that tousled appearance that was so fashionable.
She smiled to herself. Even his spontaneous-looking, careless-seeming hairstyle was strictly controlled. She didn’t know why she should find that endearing, but she did.
Exploring further, she discovered the open neck of his shirt and slipped her fingers in, finding warm skin and a light dusting of hair.
She could feel his heart thudding. Hers was, too.
He stroked along her jawline with his thumbs and followed with his mouth, nuzzling and nibbling his way down her neck. He found a sensitive place just beneath her ear and bit gently, and she gasped as a hot spear of pleasure arced through her.
Biting? Really? She tried to commit it to mind, but his hands and his mouth kept dissolving all coherent thought.
He cupped her breasts, and with thumb and fingers teased the already aching nipples.
She thrust hungrily against him and heard someone moan aloud. She started. Her eyes flew open. Was that really her?
“It’s all right, she gave up and left.” His breath was hot on her skin.
“Who?”
He laughed softly. “That ridiculous female.”
“Oh.” Izzy had completely forgotten about Milly.
There was a short silence. “Are you all right with this? We can stop if you want.” His voice was deep and sounded a little strained.
Izzy didn’t even have to think. “No.” She didn’t want to stop. She knew where this was leading and she didn’t care—no, not didn’t care—she wanted it. Fiercely.
He returned to caressing her breasts, and she shuddered and quivered as he teased and aroused. Through the fabric of her dress his mouth closed over a nipple, hot and moist. He sucked hard and she arched against him. Then he bit gently and she almost screamed as a hot wire of pleasure-pain spiked through her. She grabbed handfuls of his hair.
“Too much?” he asked.
“No,” she gasped. And guided his head to her other breast.
Moments—or an eternity—later she was left panting and gasping, and he lay back, smoothing his hands possessively down over her spine and backside. The friction was delicious.
A cool draft whispered over her legs, her bare legs. He was sliding her skirts up. A big warm hand closed over her thigh and she jumped.
“All right?” he asked.
She nodded then, remembering that he couldn’t see, said, “Yes. Just surprised.”
And as her dress climbed higher, she decided, “Fair’s fair.” And pulled his shirt out from his breeches and pushed it up so she could feel his lovely firm torso.
He sat up and dragged it over his head. “This what you wanted?”
“Mmmmm.” She rubbed her palms over him. So warm, so firm, so deliciously muscular. But oh, how she wished she could see him.
