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He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, darting his tongue to caress the closed seam of her lips. Payton’s knees weakened.
“I am a terrible painter,” she said huskily. “But I love to see images I create come to life on a canvas. You already know I enjoy writing fairy tales and drawing the images that roar to life in my mind to accompany my stories.”
“I look forward to reading them.”
Her breath hitched as nerves fluttered inside her. He pressed kisses to her lips. Payton sighed, loving the firm pressure on her mouth.
“You taste very sweet,” he murmured.
“It is the halva.”
He trailed his lips to the corner of her mouth and licked his tongue in a wicked and sensual glide of shocking temptation across the seam of her closed lips. “No…it is you.” He bit her lower lip and tugged, sliding his tongue inside.
She jerked in shock.
“It is definitely you,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “You are testing my control, and I ache to taste you deeper.”
She had no sensible response as confusing heat suffused her entire body.
He bent to nibble at her throat, the teasing strokes of his tongue rousing sensations she had never felt before. Everything inside of Payton ached. Her breasts and her most intimate valley throbbed, and she desperately wanted his touch, his taste, anything to relieve the sweet unknown pressure building.
“Then savor me,” she invited with a purr as he nipped the sensitive hollow of her throat.
He trailed fleeting kisses up to her lips, then teased her mouth in a seductive caress as she opened farther for him, inviting him inside.
“I can taste your innocence,” he growled softly.
“Is that so terrible?”
“It is dangerous, for I hunger for things you are too innocent to give.”
Then he stung her bottom lip with another sensuous nip. She gasped, and he coaxed with soft bites and licks at her lips, persuading her to open fully to his entreaty, then a beat later Mikhail claimed her in a show of raw dominance.
Flames of desire consumed her.
It was both…gently marauding and savagely ravishing. She parted her lips. A deep groan rumbled from Mikhail, and he kissed her deeper. His tongue sweeping inside her mouth was unexpected, as well as the sharp pleasure that stabbed low in her womb.
She pulled from him, panting. “I…this feels so…” Her words drifted away on a moan, as he trailed his lips over the pulse fluttering at her throat.
“Hot…needy?”
She had not realized people’s lips and tongue could mesh so delightfully. “Yes.”
“Good.” Then he tugged her closer, so she felt every hard inch of him, and took her lips in the same move.
Desires erupted in her unlike any she had ever known, and Payton slid deeper into sheer bliss. He owned her sighs, her moans. The kiss deepened, grew hungrier.
He pulled his lips from hers, breathing raggedly. “You intrigue me, Payton.”
Delightful shock coursed through her. “I do?”
He pressed kisses along the sensitive column of her neck. “Yes, I hunger to know you.”
His answer sent a shiver of uncertainty over her. He was everything that was sensual and forbidden.
“Will you allow me to take you on a walk or even a carriage ride?”
Oh.
“Payton?”
He made her heart jerk, her blood heated. Dangerous. So dangerously glorious and wonderful.
“You want to woo me?” She meant to ask the question teasingly, instead, her voice hitched.
“Yes.”
“You hardly know me.”
“I know enough.”
So do I.
A wicked tension wove around them as he awaited her answer. She hated being so honest with him, but he needed to understand what he would face. “Your status is not elevated enough for my mother or father to agree to me even strolling in the gardens with you. I would hate for you to face their censure and derision.”
“Is that your only objection?”
Mikhail made her want to rebel against the bidding of her family. Good Lord, what am I thinking? “I have no objection,” she said softly.
He wanted to know her better, even woo her. She’d always thought she would tread with utmost caution with the next man to attempt courtship, because there was a chance her heart could once again be mangled and crushed, and the very idea was unbearable. But with Mikhail she did not want to restrain any part of herself, and the intensity of feelings roiling through her so soon was almost frightening.
“I enjoy your company, Mikhail. If my parents agree to me walking with you, I would love to get to know you more.”
Pleasure flared in his eyes, then caution. Before she could question it, he tugged her closer, claiming her lips.
And even if they do not, I am determined to choose my own path.
Chapter Eight
Payton Peppiwell was delightful. Raw pleasure blasted through Mikhail at the realization she would welcome him getting to know her, despite the fact he presented himself to her as common. She desired him…simply for him. The knowledge was perplexingly wonderful.
Unable to stop touching her, he explored her mouth thoroughly, and the onslaughts of sensations were overwhelming. The rasping glide of her tongue against his nearly drove him to his knees. She was both sweetness and fire. She released a throaty sensual sigh, and her soft voluptuous curves melted into his hardness. He pulled from her, littering small kisses across her cheek. He bit the curve of her throat, fighting the raging need to devour her.
He thrived on control, and she tested every tether he’d placed on his passions.
“Please, Mikhail, I ache.”
Need flashed through him. He allowed himself to drown in the scent and taste of her, devouring her lips with a hunger he had never felt in his existence. She purred in his mouth, responding to his embrace with ravenous fervor.
He could kiss her forever and not need anything more to sustain him. The sweet and spicy flavor of her kisses enslaved him, for he never wanted to relinquish the pleasure of her lips.
Mikhail pulled from her, breathing raggedly. The pulse fluttered at the base of her throat, her skin flushed, and her eyes had deepened to dark gold.
Lust curled through Mikhail. He wanted her underneath him. Now. It was much too soon, so he ruthlessly buried the need to whisk her to the stone bench and have his way with her. She was not a conquest for mere pleasure or to satiate his lust; he wanted to learn her desires and see if he could bear her touch.
Slow down.
Her face was suffused with pure gratification, and the beauty of it beguiled him. His hunger increased to a painful craving.
Touch me…please.
The visceral need to feel her hands on him increased, jerking him out of the haze of lust trying to cloud his mind. Too soon. “Step away,” he urged. It was not in his willpower to do it himself.
She stepped back, her eyes wide with apprehension. “You must think me wanton,” she said, color dusking her face.
