Page 25 of Charlotte's Kisses

He growled as his mouth claimed hers in a scorching kiss. She parted her lips, making way for hisuninjured, scrumptious tongue. It stroked and taunted until she met him with equal force.

She could explore his mouth forever, but she should attend to the rest of him. Breathless, she pulled away. “Where else?” she asked between her panting gasps.

He placed his hand over his heart. Did he mean he’d suffered an injury there? Or was he suggesting she had broken his heart? Because that was preposterous. She was nary capable of breaking any man’s heart.

As if seeming to understand her musing, he tapped his chest. “That blighter Leon insists on targeting my breastbone.”

Memories of Hugh’s shirt hanging open as the doctor tended to him bombarded her. Lecherous ladies were doomed to hell. Hopefully, she could handle the heat because she’d suffer whatever punishment came her way in order to see Hugh’s physique for a second time.

Exhaling, she spoke before her conscience could interfere. “I should remove your shirt so that I can attend to you properly.”

His low, raspy “mmm” stoked the fire burning in her belly.

Despite wanting to rip at the fabric, she took her time releasing each button, reveling in every inch of the reveal. His skin was tanned as if he worked in the fields shirtless and so well-defined that he must heft about bricks and tree trunks for hours a day.

She held her breath so long she became dizzy. Unless it was desire causing her off-kilter whirling sensation.

Exhaling, she placed her palm on a purple splotch on his shoulder. From there, she traced the contours of his sinew until she reached a massive bruise on his chest. His heart beatsteady against her palms. Concentrating with all her might, she sent him her energy as thethump thumpof his heart increased its pace.

“Is that helping?” she asked.

“Uh, huh. But I also need kisses.” One side of his mouth quirked upward, forming a charming smirk—if indeed a smirk could be charming?

“Incubus,” she teased as she lowered her head and peppered his shoulder with pecks.

“Guilty as charged.” His hand cradled her neck, guiding her to the bruise on his chest.

She attended to his torso with abandoned passion. Her hands, lips, and tongue worked together as he moaned with pleasure.

She could not help herself because, apparently, chest hair made her wild. She raked her fingernails through the course curls, following them over his flat abdominals. Down she went, all the way to his trousers, where the hair grew thick. From this vantage point, it was evident that the bulge caged in his trousers pulsed.

What a shame it would be if his masculine implements had been injured during the numerous beatings. Dare she administer Firefly tincture atop that magnetic tent? She desperately desired to see and touch more of him. In truth, every inch of his body. But was she bold enough to undo his falls?

Alas, nay. And even if she did something so wanton, she’d make an utter fool of herself since she had no idea what to do with a man’s member. She would need to consult the guide for the specifics. Sighing, she sat up.

Flushed and heavy-lidded, he gulped. “Your father will be here at any moment.”

“No,” she squeaked like an unhappy rodent.

“I am afraid so,” Hugh said. “And he cannot find us like this.”

There were some punishments she was not willing to accept. Hugh’s death being first and foremost. She planted one last kiss on his lips before leaping from bed. She slid into her slippers and hurriedly gathered her hairpins and Cook’s basket.

“I will be back this evening,” she said.

“I will be here. Waiting.” Hugh blew her a kiss as the door between them closed.

Chapter fifteen

Even in the bestcircumstances, Hugh was not a patient man. Just ask any of the criminals or mooncalfs he’d walloped in the jaw. And now that he craved Charlotte’s light, the hours until she returned would feel like days. He’d go mad counting the minutes. Or worse, time would stand still.

He could not recall a woman ever having such an effect on him. Perhaps, he was becoming sentimental at the ripe ol’ age of seven and twenty. It had happened to his cousins William and Ethan, and they’d been relationship skittish rogues of the worst sort.

Or maybe it was that the beatings had stripped him of his dignity, making him weak and missish. The loss was a hard lot for any man to accept. He ought to know since he’d been stripped of his at least a dozen punches ago.

Unless it was Charlotte herself with all that sweet innocence wrapped in a beautiful package, caring for him andfighting her longing. That was the thing about intuition, he knew human nature, and she wanted him, deeply and viscerally. The evidence was apparent in the way her breath hitched when she touched him. Every time she met his gaze, she licked her lips, and her eyes glazed over with desire. Confounding indeed, since he was not at his finest, needing a shave, a bath, and clean clothing. But damn, this woman’s reaction to him, even at his worst, was a potent aphrodisiac.

While in Charlotte’s arms, desire overshadowed the agony from his injuries. Most likely because the ache in his cock and balls distracted him from the scratches and bruises. What would it be like to listen to her sweet-as-sugar voice turn raspy, screaming his name while coming apart beneath him? He exhaled his frustration. Now that she was gone, he’d have to combat both the pain from his beatings and the discomfort brought on by yearning.