It looked like he was finally going to get a taste of his youthful obsession. He could only hope this severed Alexandra Mountbatten from his mind, once and for all.
CHAPTER 4
WHERE A KISS CHANGES EVERYTHING
Alexandra was tired of listless kisses.
She’d had a lifetime of unskilled efforts on sorrowfully moonlit verandas. And later, her attempts with an indifferent spouse.
She wanted to bet on a winning horse this time.
If kissing Cortland DeWitt was a gamble, so be it. What better way to find out if the inadequacies in her marriage had been her fault than to attach herself to one of the Trio’s lips? Perhaps she wasn’t suited to the act, sparking a fire in a man an impossible endeavor. Wasn’t it best she recognize this before spending the rest of her life wondering?
She’d never sparked anything in Viscount Amberly, that was certain.
“Quit thinking and get over here, sweetness.”
Sweetness. Of course, he said this to everyone. But it warmed her, nonetheless, because she was weak.
Alexandra halted just out of reach. Before she committed fully to this wager, she allowed herself a moment to take him in. When she’d stumbled into the deserted scullery off the kitchen, it was to find her injured visitor seated at her scuffed butcher’s block, an introspective expression on his face, parts of her mantel clock scattered before him. Her breath had raced right out of her because she’d never seen him like this. Never realized how attractive he was. Spectacles balanced on the bridge of the most patrician nose in England, rumpled shirtsleeves rolled high on his forearms, his hair mussed about his jaw in disordered waves the color of the cocoa she drank every morning. A stark, white bandage contrasting against his sun-kissed skin.
A mix between a scholar and a scoundrel, the most enticing vision imaginable.
As if he read her thoughts, his sleepy, green gaze met hers. His lips twitched in a near smile, clever and knowing. An earthy scent, leather and the floral fragrance from her soap, drifted to her on a passing breeze sneaking in the open window.
She changed her mind right there.
Cort DeWitt wasn’t merely attractive, he was gorgeous.
He tilted his head, his spectacle lenses shimmering in the oil lamp’s glow. “Are you reneging on the agreement before we’ve even begun?”
“No,” she whispered and moved closer, pleased when his smile flattened, his fingers clenching into a fist on his knee. Her pulse kicked, her heartbeat scattering. Incredibly, with his gaze lighting a fire inside her, she understood this meant she wanted him.
And possibly, joyfully, he wanted her.
Closing the distance, she stepped between his spread legs. She wasn’t allowing her attention to drift lower than his belly as she wasn’t sure how to handle what she’d find.
Bracing her knee on the chair, she leaned in, removing his spectacles and placing them on the block. His breathy sigh streaked through her, piercing like a dart in the tight space between her thighs. Giving her courage to go further. His lids fluttered, thankfully relieving her of drowning in the sea-green beauty of his gaze. The muted light revealed the amber tips of his lashes, the pale scar on his jaw, the freckle above his top lip.
She wanted to devour him, when she’d never wished to devour a man before.
So this is what desire feels like, she thought in wonder.
Gripping the arm of the chair, she didn’t wait for Cort to touch her. The honest admission had been his idea—the kiss was hers. His lips were firm but silky-smooth when she brushed her mouth across them. His dense stubble a fascinating disparity. The whisper of his breath across her cheek pulling her in, his lips parting to invite her.
He released a soft, knee-melting moan, his arm coming around her waist, palm pressed to her lower back, sending her in a gentle spill against him. Her breasts flattened to his chest, her arms having nowhere to go but around his neck. Gravity and passion took over until she was kneeling before him, erasing any sweet tentativeness.
Her lips opened, her tongue following his in a dance that quickly spiraled into more than she’d imagined in her grandest dreams. No one had dared kiss her like this.
Her hand fisted in the silky hair at the nape of his neck, her other going to clutch his shoulder. Seeking more, he cradled her jaw, slanting her head, guiding her. Groaning when he found what he was looking for—which was the deepest, most consuming experience of her life. She fought the sensation of falling as her toes curled in her slippers, the needy sound lancing the air one she feared was coming from her.
With a choked exhalation, he pulled back, letting a breath of air slide between them. Chest heaving, his gaze captured hers. There was a hint of anger on his face that, strangely, only made her want him more. Conceivably, it was better if he felt more than he cared to.
Better for her anyway.
Seconds clicked by as if her broken clock was counting off time. Cort’s eyes had colored a cavernous, lake-bottom green, his jaw tensing as he swallowed. He whispered what sounded like an oath, tunneled his hand into the hair at her crown, then his mouth was hard and hot on hers. His tongue circling, fencing, in battle.
Fighting her. Or himself.
