Juliette’s hands were performing a tentative exploration of their own. Gooseflesh prickled every inch of his skin when she flattened her palm against his chest, and then slid upward to the edge of his cravat, curling around the back of his neck. Her fingers tangled in the strands at the nape of his neck, holding him close as he tasted the sensitive skin of her jaw.
“You still want this?” he murmured against her skin.
“Hmm?” Her head tilted back as he nuzzled her throat.
His hands tightened around her until their bodies were entirely flush with one another. “This,” he growled. “Me.”
Her breathing hitched and her body stilled. He loosened his grip enough to allow her to lean back a few inches to look into his face.
“Are you asking me if I’ve changed my mind?”
Ian’s jaw clenched by way of a reply. He didn’t want to know the answer, but he had to. It had been the only other thought occupying his mind for the past several days. He knew he would release her immediately if she’d come to her senses and decided to call off whatever harebrained scheme she’d concocted.
He could see her pulse flickering in her throat.
“I haven’t,” she finally whispered.
It was all the urging Ian needed to pull her head down to his, capturing her lips, claiming her mouth with his own. The faint whimper escaping from her throat caused a scarlet haze to burst behind his eyes and surge throughout his body. His grip must have been nearly painful on her waist and the back of her neck, but she only clutched him closer. Both of them were panting when he finally broke the kiss.
“If I ever do something you do not desire,” he forced out the words through lips which seemed to have lost the power of speech; “if ever there is something you do not wish, you need only tell me and I will listen. Say a word and I will stop.”
She gazed down at him, her pupils so dilated they nearly engulfed the color of the irises. “You can’t ever do something I don’t wish you to do.” Her voice was slightly tremulous but clear and honest.
“Good,” Ian growled. “Because I’ve thought of little else beyond this—” he squeezed her against him—“in days.” He craned his neck to capture her lips once again, a low moan eked unbidden from his chest when she met him with equal fervor. Her palms slid up the curve of his chest to grip his shoulders. What he wouldn’t give to have her straddling him, his straining cock nestled in the sweet heat at the crux of her thighs.
But Ian’s lust-hazed mind still knew there had to be a line he did not cross. They must not do anything irrevocable, no matter how they might crave it. The onus was on him as the more experienced of them to maintain restraint and a reasonable hold upon his sanity…though Lord knew it would be one of the most difficult ventures of his life. He was ravenous for this woman.
Their lips met in a frenzy, the click of teeth and breathless sighs filled the air of their little golden-lit bubble. It was easy to believe the rest of the world outside of this intimate space had melted away, evaporated with the heat of whatever it was that had burned so brightly between them from the very first. Having Juliette in his arms felt right, even though every fiber of his being screamed that it was so, so wrong. So dangerous. In more ways than one.
She pressed herself more closely to him, unconsciously rocking her hips against him in an instinctive rhythm. Ian’s breath hissed through his teeth. Even if Juliette was untried and innocent there remained, buried deep within her, primal urges. The femininity in her body knew the masculinity in his; it knew what to do, knew what it craved as naturally as how to keep her heart beating and her breath moving in and out of her lungs.
“Tell me what you want,” he growled against her mouth. She whimpered in response, shaking her head, unable to voice what she desired. “This?” he demanded, his large palms cupping the perfectly rounded globes of her bottom in a bruising grip. “You want my hands on you, lass?” His voice was growing harsher, the Scottish burr coming through more thickly with each second of the delectable torture of having Juliette in his arms, but not naked beneath him. “What are your plans with me?”
“This,” Juliette hissed, her fingers twining through his hair almost painfully, her teeth scraping his lower lip. “More of this.”
Ian growled, happy—nay, eager—to oblige. He shoved his half-eaten supper across the table to create just enough space for what he intended. Rocking his weight forward, he stood enough to slide Juliette’s bottom on the tabletop and propped her there. He pressed closer, nestling himself between her legs, standing over her, dominating her with his size, never breaking contact with his lips and tongue. She had to angle her head back to accommodate his height. Her hands, no longer able to reach his head, slipped down to his waistcoat to fist in the fitted silk. She was likely to leave wrinkles, but Ian didn’t care one whit. In fact, he knew he’d smile fondly upon those creases later when he saw them and recalled this interlude.
Juliette’s head fell back on a sigh when his lips trailed down her jaw.
“There are more places a man can kiss a woman to give her pleasure.”
“Oh?” she sighed, somewhat belatedly.
“Aye,” Ian breathed harshly. “Here.” He pressed his open mouth to the spot where her jaw met her neck.
“Here.” He nipped her earlobe and then soothed it with a kiss.
“Here.” He tasted the pounding pulse in her throat.
“Here…” He kissed the milky expanse of her decolletage exposed above the edge of her gown. He was enveloped in her intoxicating scent.
What he wouldn’t give to bury his face just there.
He teetered on a dangerous precipice of his self-control. He was mere inches away from all loss of sanity. He’d thought of little else but this woman in his arms; knowing her mind had been similarly tortured was heady. It drove him wild. It awoke something barbaric and untamed within him. It roared to life within him like a blistering mountain wind through heather. It made him tighten his grip on Juliette’s body, tangle his fingers in her hair, and yank her mouth to his once more to plunder her with his tongue. It bellowed at him to tear off her clothes and devour her.
The last thought was like a bucket of icy water over his head and Ian wrenched himself away from Juliette as if he’d been scorched. His chest heaved in time with the rise and fall of Juliette’s delectable bosom. He had to be the one in charge of drawing a line in this wildly absurd situation. The onus was on him to maintain restraint. It might kill him, but he knew what he must do.
Juliette’s heavily lidded eyes met his. He knew his pupils were likely as ravenous as hers were. Ian removed his shaking hand from her rear and tucked a loose black curl of hair behind her ear. Those mesmerizing eyes of hers slid closed and she tilted her head into his touch. It took everything he had not to send his senses to hell and take her right then and there.
