Page 10 of Not Just Any Earl
Fingertips curled against her waist, his large hands so gentle she might have believed she’d imagined the caress if she hadn’t felt the brush of his coat sleeves against her wrists and looked down to find long, gloved fingers resting on her hips.
Then, before she could move or say a word, he buried his face in her hair.
It was so unexpected, so unbearably sweet, Emmeline’s limbs went heavy and liquid, and a sound fell from her lips, a sound she couldn’t recall ever having made before, or could even have imagined making before this man touched her.
She swayed against him, instinctively seeking more of his gentle caress. A low, pleased sound rumbled in his chest, and firm, soft lips pressed against the sensitive skin of her neck, behind her ear, and then his teeth—his teeth—were nibbling at her earlobe.
Dear God, how could anything feel as good as that?
He took his time, exploring every inch of the untouched terrain of her neck before his parted lips drifted lower to taste the top of her spine, the light rasp of an emerging beard on his cheeks and jaw making her shiver.
Emmeline reached out to grip the windowsill, to anchor herself against the strange, hot ache unfurling inside her. In some distant, hazy part of her mind she was aware it was madness, utter madness to permit an unknown gentleman to touch her so intimately, but his wandering lips scattered her wits, and stole her reason.
He urged her closer, one hand flattening against her hip while the other ventured higher, pausing to stroke the slight swell of her belly before gliding over her ribs, and then his warm palm curved loosely around her throat, the gentle pressure of his fingertips against her jaw easing her head to one side and baring the curve where her neck met her shoulder to his kiss, the damp tease of his tongue.
Emmeline’s eyes slid closed, and whatever vague thoughts she’d had of escaping him fluttered away on a breathless sigh, like clouds on a summer breeze.
Chapter
Three
The room was dark, and she was half-hidden behind the heavy silk draperies, but she was wearing a pink silk…well, it was some color of a gown. Johnathan couldn’t quite tell what color, the world having gone a bit fuzzy at the edges, but it must be pink, mustn’t it?
“This gown suits you,” he whispered against her skin, reaching out to stroke one of her long curls. “That shade brings out the rich color of your hair.”
She stiffened, and he paused for an instant, confused, but after a moment the tension eased from her slender frame, and the long, white fingers clutching the edge of the windowsill relaxed.
What had become of her gloves?
The thought was there and then gone again as he buried his face in the impossibly soft skin of her neck. “Dear God, you smell divine.” He opened his lips over the pulse behind her ear, groaning at the seductive scent. It was soft, with a subtle hint of roses, but it was earthy, as well, like rich soil and clean skin warmed by the sun. “Is this a new perfume? You should never wear any other.”
He gathered up the long, luscious curl he’d loosened from where it had fallen against her pale neck, captured it between his fingers, and raised it to his mouth. She made a sound, a sharp intake of breath. Desire flooded his belly as he dragged the silky strands across his lips, and then he was lost in her seductive scent.
A quiet sigh left her lips, a slow, sweet exhale unlike any he’d ever heard from her before, and arousal shot through him, headier and more dizzying than the brandy he’d consumed. He wrapped his hands around her slender waist and eased her back against him, and she…
For one strange, frozen moment it felt to Johnathan as if she was about to pull away from him. He wanted her badly, but he loosened his hold on her waist at once.
He might be deep in his cups, but he wasn’t a brute.
But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she arched into him, one hand stealing up to cradle the back of his neck, her fingers sifting through his hair.
“Yes.” Johnathan’s heavy eyelids dropped closed, and he eased her hips back, tucking the tantalizing warmth of her against him, so she could feel how much he wanted her.
He’d admired Lady Susanna from the first moment he’d seen her, had desired her, but this time his passion for her felt different, deeper, a needy ache not just in his cock, but everywhere, in his palms that throbbed to cradle her breasts, in his fingertips and his lips, the arch of his neck clamoring for her touch, his mouth desperate for her tongue.
Christ, even the soles of his feet wanted her.
Everywhere, every inch of him was desperate to have her, but this wasn’t his bedchamber, and several hundred people were crowded together just at the other end of the hallway.
A gentleman didn’t toss up a lady’s skirts in his hostess’s library.
“My carriage is just outside,” he murmured, unable to resist the temptation to nip at the dainty lobe of her ear. “Will you come with me?”
No answer, unless it was the maddening drift of her fingers over the back of his neck. Johnathan groaned, every hair rising in reaction to her touch.
But a gentleman didn’t toss up a lady’s skirts…
She turned her head, and her soft breath drifted over his jaw.
