“My apologies, my lord. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just couldn’t sleep and came down to find a book to read.” She said in a wary, conciliatory tone. He looked angry and had been drinking. A dangerous combination.
“You are not disturbing me at all. Come on in.” He gestured to the shelves that lined the room from floor to ceiling. “Take you pick.”
She entered cautiously and started browsing the shelves, circling the room. Moving as far away from him as possible without making it obvious that was what she was doing. He seemed to be in a volatile state. She felt his gaze on her back like a beam burning her flesh.
She finally found the book she sought; ‘Ten sermons about virtue and the cultivation of moral fortitude.’ Yes, that was exactly what she needed. Grabbing the tome, she hugged it to her chest and, muttering good night, turned to leave.
“What did you pick?” he asked before she could escape.
“Uh, just a book of sermons.”
“Is that what you are reading? Sermons?” He mocked. “Some dull material, indeed.”
She lifted her chin. “It is not dull. It is enlightening. And it improves character.”
He gave a very eloquent snort in response.
“Tell me, Abigail,” He asked silkily. “Does your character need so much improvement after just one kiss? Your morals must be very fragile indeed, if even the touch of someone like me tempts your virtue.”
She gasped. The dart was tossed so accurately that it pierced her very soul. Shameful tears sprang to her eyes. She turned to leave before she broke down completely in front of him. Compounding her shame.
He was out of his chair in a heartbeat, moving so fast he was in front of the door before she could even reach it.
His gaze was not taunting anymore. It scrutinized her as if trying to figure out a puzzle. He reached out and tenderly brushed a tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry.” He whispered in a tone devoid of sarcasm. He was once again the tender lover who had kissed her so thoroughly.
She shuddered, his touch echoing through every nerve end. He saw her reaction and attempted to withdraw his hand. She couldn’t bear it. Closing her eyes, she captured his hand and kept it pressed to her cheek. He brought his other hand to cup her face with both his hands.
“Sweetheart, what is wrong? You don’t need to feel afraid around me. I would never use the situation to force my attentions on you, nor take any unwelcome liberties.”
“I know that. You are a genuine gentleman. I am the one who is behaving most shamefully, not befitting of a lady.”
He snorted. “I have seen no trace of shameful behavior on your part.”
“I have been spending too much time with you, alone. That is improper, and I know it, but... I enjoy your company. And this afternoon,” she raised her gaze to look straight into his tender eyes. “I allowed you to kiss me. And now, I shouldn’t be here, we shouldn’t be touching. You must think I’m a lady of easy virtue.”
“I think no such thing.” His fingers caressed the skin of her face.
His hands were strong, big, and calloused, and yet they touched her with such gentle care. She closed her eyes and sighed. “But I can’t...” she broke off and looked away.
“You can’t...?” He let the question hang in the air.
“I can’t seem to have the strength to walk away. I should go”, she made a feeble attempt to turn away, but he pulled her in gently and brought his mouth to hers, fusing their lips in a kiss.
Her will to protest vanished in the face of the desire he created with a simple kiss. His lips slid soft and warm against hers, undemanding, but tempting, and she felt herself respond to the irresistible invitation. Her mouth opened infinitesimally and his tongue darted out to caress the seam of her lips, asking for permission, waiting to be invited inside. She opened, and he took full advantage.
Bringing her fully against him, he angled his head as he plundered the depths of her mouth, sliding, caressing. He tasted of maleness and the brandy he had been drinking. The friction of his tongue against hers caused pinpricks of awareness all throughout her body, while one powerful arm kept her anchored against him and his hand hugged her face with infinite tenderness.
The book dropped to the floor, forgotten, as her hands glided across his shoulders and tried to find purchase by twinning behind his neck. She needed more of him. Needed to be closer. But he slowly disengaged them. Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed her hands and brought them back to the front to rest against his chest.
Distracted by the sliver of firm muscles accessible through the deep v of his robe, she kept them there. Caressing his chest while his mouth trailed a path of liquid desire down her cheek.
He bit the base of her neck, and she whimpered. His hands slid down her back, around her ribcage and upwards to cup her aching breasts. When he bent and sucked her nipple through the fabric of her nightgown, desire lanced through her, too strong to contain. She arched into his hands and hot mouth and moaned. The next second, she went rigid with shame. She was doing it again. Acting like a common trollop.
He stopped immediately and rose to assess her.
“Abby? What is the problem?” He was looking at her with such intensity. She drew a shaky breath.
The problem was that she was unable to accept his kisses with the proper restraint befitting of a lady. Instead, she turned into this savage creature that wanted to melt into him. Claw at his shoulders. Bite his lips.
