“What—” one of the highwaymen on horseback barked in objection, but Brody simply waved his hand in distracted dismissal.
Jessica smothered her exclamation. Brody had a beautifully large nose, and she saw more of the bump on the bridge. His jaw and chin were straight and square, shaded with black bristle. If he had shaved this morning, his beard already won the war and was growing back with thrilling speed. His mouth…well…it was full and wide and clearly the mouth of someone who had done his fair share of kissing.
Jessica was happy to reap the benefits of all his practice.
“They say you’re the bastard son of a nobleman,” she murmured.
A frown creased between his brows. “I’m no aristo’s by-blow.”
“No overbred aristocrat could possibly be so handsome.”
A corner of his mouth curved up, revealing a dimple.
“Do you know many aristos, my lady?” he asked.
“Enough to know that they are as far from you as we are from the moon.”
“I choose to take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
She held motionless as he brought his lips closer to hers. Yet he didn’t swoop down and seize her mouth in greedy, ungainly demand.
Instead, he stroked one rough fingertip along her cheek, summoning shivers, and his gaze flicked down to her own mouth. Despite the circumstances, he seemed determined to take his time and savor this moment.
Slowly, he brought his lips to hers. They were soft, exploratory, merely a gentle press of flesh to flesh. He brushed them over her lips, back and forth, as if he was content with this soft, quiet touch.
Her stomach sank. Was this all he wanted from her?
But then his lips parted. He stroked the tip of his tongue against the seam of her mouth. She didn’t hesitate, opening for him at once.
He gave a low growl and took the kiss deeper. His tongue stroked into her, exploring, learning. She tasted whisky and tobacco as she gave him more access.
His hand cupped her face, angling her so he could take exactly what he wanted. She let him, and his assertiveness and mastery overwhelmed her in a dizzying rush. He took possession of her mouth, kissing her in long, drugging tastes. Luxuriating in her.
Yes, he knew exactly how to kiss, was exceptionally experienced in the practice, and though it was clear he enjoyed kissing for its own sake, he possessed a greater knowledge of what his mouth could do, and where he’d like to put it.
A rush of heat spread through her, tightening in her breasts and warming between her legs. This is what she’d been craving for so long. Those sloppy kisses she’d endured from prior lovers as quick preludes to unsatisfying bedsport had only whetted her appetite for a lover who knew precisely what to do, and sought her pleasure above all.
She hadn’t known it during those disappointing encounters, but now that she experienced what it was to be kissed by highwayman Ezra Brody, she understood her own desires.
“Ezra!” This came from the highwayman who’d objected to Brody taking off his mask. “Time to run.”
Brody jerked back, and his breath came in a ragged pace that matched Jessica’s own uneven gasps. His nostrils widened and he drew in a long inhalation. As if he was scenting her.
A smile filled his face.
“My lady likes the highwayman’s kiss.”
“As I said,” she murmured, “I am no lady.”
“That might not be so, but you did like my lips on yours.”
“Such confidence.”
His nostrils widened again, and his smile grew. “Unshakable in my confidence.”
“Trollop,” the vicar sneered. He’d abandoned the pretense of comforting the dowager.
