He cursed himself. Of course Chloe had not melted into his embrace. She had thought him promised to someone else.
“I did not,” he said quickly. “I couldn’t.”
“But why?” she stammered. “I thought she was the answer to your prayers.”
“All but one of them.” Miss York wasn’t Chloe. No one else could compare. “I could not consign us both to misery.”
Her face tilted up toward his. “If not her, what do you hope to find?”
“I don’t know what the future holds.” His voice was husky as he reached for her. “But in this moment I have everything I desire.”
A pleased, secret smile flirted at her rosy lips. “You desire me?”
“More than breath itself.” But he had to be fully honest. He brushed his thumb against her cheek. “I’m yours for the moment, but this freedom is temporary. My intentions are not honorable.”
“Who said mine were?” She glided a finger down his waistcoat. “You’re available for anything I please? At this very moment?”
“Anything at all.” The words rasped from his suddenly dry throat.
The tip of her tongue touched her lower lip. He wanted to taste it.
“Start with a kiss”—she rose up on her toes so that her mouth brushed against his—“and then tempt me.”
He cupped her face in his hands and pressed his mouth to hers.
Power and vulnerability warred within him. Her kiss was everything he had hoped and feared it would be. Thrilling, drugging, devastating. It did not quench the fire within him. It fanned the flames hotter. Every kiss begat two, every two begged four more.
She had the upper hand, whether or not she realized it. He was greedy for as many kisses as she deigned to give. He would hoard them in his heart to savor for the rest of his life.
It was heady to realize he’d relinquished all control to someone else. Or perhaps she had wrested it from him just by looking in his direction.
Tonight he was hers to command.
24
He was no longer marrying Philippa!
Chloe slid her fingers into the Duke of Faircliffe’s dark hair and tried to tell herself this news meant nothing, that his marital plans did not signify, because when it came to her, they had no future.
But with Lawrence a kiss was neverjust a kiss. It was earth-shattering, heartbreaking, sublime. From the moment she’d received his invitation to visit, she’d known the greatest challenge would be resisting the urge to throw herself into his arms and melt against him. And now there was nothing to resist!
He was hers, for a little longer. Hers to do anything she liked with. A thrill sizzled through her. Temporary she might be, but tonight she would also be memorable. He might leave her, but he would not forget her.
No one could forget kisses as hot as these.
With him, she was no scuffed parquet or so much faded wallpaper. With him, she was the candle, the torch, the chandelier: bright and dazzling, the pinnacle of the night, their passion a fiery comet. She would not let herself think about how it would feel to hit the ground.
Moments such as these were not to be squandered.
She unlaced her fingers from behind his neck and ran her palms over his shoulders, his arms, his chest, greedy to know every inch of him.
“What are you doing?” he asked between kisses. His breath tickled the corner of her mouth. “Stealing another handkerchief?”
She giggled despite herself. “You knew I took it?”
“Not until you admitted it just now.” He covered his handkerchief protectively. “Minx. What did you do with it?”
“Burned it.”
