Her eyes glinted deviously. “The world has yet to find out.”
“I’m not sure anyone isreadyto find out. The universe might come apart at the seams.”
“Destroyer of Worlds,” she said dreamily. “It does have a nice ring to it.”
She was certainly turning Stephen’s orderly world upside down.
She was also standing only a few inches away from him, and in no apparent hurry to hie off to her private quarters.
Standing there, within arm’s reach. Touching distance. Kissing distance. He longed to scoop her into his arms and find out if she tasted half as good as she looked… and he suspected she knew it.
He couldn’t prevent his body from reacting to her, try as he might. Even with bits of blue and pink chalk dust still clinging to her hair, she was an impossibly tempting, voluptuous siren. Stephen had never seen a prettier picture.
But pictures were for looking at, not touching. And this was his guest, not his lover. The last thing a gentleman of any moral substance ought to attempt was—
“Well, are you going to do it or not?” she demanded.
He stared at her. “Going to do what?”
“Good God, I always have to do everything,” she muttered, and hooked her cane over the back of the closest chair. “This.”
She grabbed his lapels with both hands and lifted her lips to his.
13
All day, Elizabeth had hesitated before making the first move. Before makinganymove. Although Mr. Lenox appeared to enjoy her as much as she enjoyed him, thus far he had showed no hint of planning to do anything about it. If anything, every time he seemed on the verge of kissing her, he visibly collected himself and pulled back.
Shoring up defenses washermove, damn it!
If she slashed through his walls and got roundly rejected for her troubles, they would still be stuck with each other. The mortification would be extreme. Butnotas torturous as the unbearable wondering of where this tangible awareness and gut-wrenching anticipation between them might go if they let it run wild.
So she did the only thing a fearless warrior could do: She hung up her cane and kissed him.
He froze for only the briefest of seconds. Then he answered Elizabeth’s kiss as though he’d hungered for her throughout the entire meal.
His hands skated up her sides, pulling her to him. There were half a dozen layers of clothing between them, but she knew what lay beneath his. She had seen the rock-hard slabs of his chest and counted the tiled muscles of his taut abdomen with her own eyes. She hoped to do it again. Perhaps now was a good time. She reached behind her back for her sword stick.
Before her fingers could make contact, he grabbed both of her hands and placed them around his neck.
“You think I want to touch you, tinker?” she murmured against his lips.
“I know you do,” he murmured back, then captured her mouth with his.
Arrogant. She liked that.
Heat emanated from him in waves. Or perhaps that was the manifestation of her own sexual desires. Her body craved him as though kisses weren’t performed only by mouths, and she could consume him with her hands, her hips, her breasts.
She pressed against him without shame or shyness. After all, it was he who had locked her arms about his neck. He wanted her close. She was happy to oblige.
His legs felt as thickly muscled as his torso. Happily, there were far fewer layers of clothing between his thighs and hers. A light spring gown over a whisper-thin chemise on her end, and on his, skintight pantaloons that left no doubt as to what his strong legs might feel like, tangled up with hers.
Forget cutting open his clothes. She was going to use her sword stick to knock the remaining supper items off the table and see what kind of trouble they could get into right here in the dining room. Normally she preferred a soft mattress, or at least a few pillows, but she saw no reason why she couldn’t recline on a linen tablecloth, just this once.
His kisses were ravenous, his tongue demanding. Yet his hands cupped her face as though she were precious. A dish to be savored, not devoured whole… if only he could maintain the self-control required.
Elizabeth had never put much stock in self-control. She’d always believed she would have made a formidable pirate, what with her love of pillaging and plunder. But it turned out, being the one pillaged wasevery bit as much fun. She welcomed his plundering. Reveled in it. Rubbed herself against him to keep it coming.
After all, he was not really conquering her. She was an unconquerable bulwark, allowing him across the threshold because this sensual onslaught pleased her. Her walls were on the inside, guarding not her body but her heart. The one treasure she would allow no one to touch.
