“This is… inappropriate,” she whispered, and he nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.
He leaned in, just enough that she could smell a hint of brandy on his breath, the musk of his cologne. “If you tell me to go, I’ll go.”
She said nothing. She couldn’t.
He waited, and when she still didn’t speak, he reached up and cupped her jaw in one gentle hand. His thumb traced the line of her cheekbone, and she was glad for the solidity of the shelves at her back, because she might have collapsed otherwise.
“You’re not just a governess. You’re a woman, above all. And you deserve to read things that are… adventurous. To want things. To enjoy them.”
She swallowed, her throat dry as a salt flat. “It isn’t proper,” she managed, her protest sounding weak even to her own ears.
His mouth curved. “We established that. It’s after midnight, Augusta. We don’t have to be proper.”
She felt the world tilt. The only thing holding her upright was the pressure of his body, so close now that she could feel his racing heartbeat against the thin linen of her nightgown.
“I was… I was only a little curious,” she said, the words escaping before she could stop them.
His eyes turned molten. “If you’re curious about pleasure, Augusta…” His voice was hoarse. “I could teach you a thing or two that those pages never will.”
She should have recoiled. She should have turned and fled the suffocating intimacy of the stacks. Instead, she felt a traitorous pulse thrumming between her thighs, a rhythmic ache that mirrored the frantic beating of her heart.
Augusta’s gaze traced the hard line of his jaw and the piercing blue of his eyes. She didn’t move. She didn’t breathe. Her lips parted of their own volition, and he smiled widely, hungrily.
Then he claimed her mouth with his own.
There was no tentative beginning, no soft inquiry. It was a collision of heat and hunger. His mouth was a command she was all too eager to obey, tasting of dark intent and a desperation that made her senses reel.
He pressed her back, and the sharp, unforgiving edge of the bookshelf bit into her spine, but the sting only served to ground her in the sheer, overwhelming reality of his touch.
His hands slid upward, his palms rough and hot against her cheeks before his fingers dove deep into her hair, gripping the strands to tilt her head back. She let out a soft, broken whimper against his lips, her body turning to liquid fire.
Every point of contact, his chest against her breasts, his thighs pinning hers, ignited a new fuse.
For the first time in her life, Augusta wasn’t thinking. She was simply feeling, coming undone in the beautiful, terrifying storm of his embrace.
His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and she opened to him, helpless, greedy, the taste of brandy and salt and him a revelation. Her hands found his waistcoat, her fingers digging into the fine wool as if to anchor herself in the moment.
She felt him smile against her mouth.
“Look at you, aching for me,” he purred, his voice dropping to a rough, commanding whisper. “Beg me to stop, or I’m going to completely devour you.”
Then he deepened the kiss, his hand sliding down to the nape of her neck, holding her in place as if she might otherwise fly apart. She was acutely aware of the wetness pooling between her thighs, and her body pressed into his.
A moan escaped her lips when she felt an unfamiliar hardness press against her.
“Whisper it to me,” he murmured, his breath hot and ragged against her lips. “Tell me how good it is. Tell me you’re all mine right now.”
The involuntary press of her body against his seemed to awaken something in him, and he pressed her into the shelf, his hands sliding over her hips.
She reached blindly behind her, her fingers bumping against a small statue that tumbled to the floor. The sound of it shattering was like a bucket of cold water. She jerked back, gasping, her hand flying to her lips.
Hudson stepped away, just far enough to let air back into the room, but his eyes never left her face.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and for the first time since she’d known him, he looked uncertain. “That was?—”
“No,” she said, her voice shaking. “It was my fault. I…”
He shook his head. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
