Page 44 of The Rake’s Convenient Bride

Something niggled at the back of her mind. The reminder that she had to tell him their charade was nearly up. And yet, here was Lord Darington telling her he’d always found her beautiful, had always noticed her. This man who she had dreamed of for too long had wondered about her.

And had desired her.

Surely, they could pretend just a bit longer.

Only this time, she wanted to fall head over heels into the fantasy. To set aside her skepticism and play the lead role alongside him.

“What if…” Her heart thundered in her ears. Was she truly going to say this. “What if I told you I wanted you to touch me?”

He inhaled sharply. “I can’t.”

If she thought such words were a rejection, she was mistaken. For the way he continued to watch her with his dark, steady gaze, begged her to press him.

“What if we pretend?” She caught him by the hand and eased backward to the building, obscuring them in a cloak of shadows. “What if we pretend we will be wed in a fortnight, that reputation does not stand between us, that soon all intimacy will be shared with one another.”

Elizabeth’s heel hit the wall, and she stopped, locking her eyes on Jasper.

“That is a lot of pretending.” But even as he said it, he leaned over her, bracing his body with an arm on either side of her.

“I have a very active imagination,” she whispered.

“So you’ve said,” he murmured.

She tilted her face toward his. “Kiss me.”

Was she begging?

She didn’t care. All she knew was that she wanted—needed—the heat of his mouth on hers.

He hesitated a moment, long enough she was certain he would deny her request. Disappointment chilled inside her and then suddenly he moved, grasping her firmly but gently at the back of her head and lowered his lips to hers.

Jasper knew he shouldn’t be kissing Elizabeth, but her mouth was so sweet under his, so soft, so yielding.

She had goaded him with her teasing earlier during the dance, and now with her throaty, whispered plea, all but begging him to kiss her.

Good God, how could he not?

His mouth moved over hers, claiming her lips as if he could make her entirely his with that act of one simple kiss.

But no, there was nothing simple about it.

Not in the way he possessively cradled the back of her head against his palm, or in how his body bowed over hers, drawn toward her beauty, her undeniable sensuality as she sweetly tormented him with a flirtation he could not deny.

He kissed first that full lower lip he’d spent far too much time thinking about, then her top lip, before capturing them together. She returned his kiss, her movements slow with inexperience and determined with need.

It was that need which spurred him beyond that one kiss.

For truly that was what he had intended.

One simple kiss to placate her request. To slake his curiosity of how she might taste.

One kiss was not enough, damn it.

He ran his tongue over the seam of her lips, sampling her. Encouraging her.

Her mouth parted and he dipped his tongue inside, brushing the tip of hers with his own.

A soft moan escaped her—a breathy whimper, a lusty plea for more.