Page 40 of A Potion for Passion

Once before, she’d fallen upon him like a ravening wolf. She wasn’t going to do so again. If he wanted to kiss her, he must take the lead. For over two weeks, she’d waited for him to do so.

In vain.

Which meant he wasn’t attracted to her. That he didn’t want her.

So, she didn’t move. She said nothing—just waited.

Removing her finger from his mouth, he gave it a brief examination, then blew on it. The feel of his hot breath sent a shaft of pleasure lancing through her, and she stood there, entranced, suspended in time—and filled with delicious, agonizing anticipation.

Never taking his eyes off her, he moved closer, settled his hands around her waist, and let out a shuddering breath. “Just one flash of those blue eyes,” he murmured, “and I am lost.”

A good opening gambit, if empty flattery.

Still she didn’t move, didn’t respond.

He shouldered the door closed behind him, took her hand, and kissed it. “I want to taste your lips again,” he said, before running his tongue along the underside of her wrist. “If you’ll let me.”

Why did he ask permission? It just gave her the chance to say no—which was exactly what her conscience urged her to do.

Instead, she closed her eyes. This way, she was neither inviting nor refusing. So, whatever happened next, it wouldn’t be her fault.

Would it?

All at once, his lips were on hers, as hungry as that first time—more so—and she was in his arms, pressing herself up against every inch of his taut body, her lips bruised by his fierce kisses and her soul melting under the sensual onslaught of his mouth.

Greedily, his hands explored her arms, her shoulders, and her back, kneading and rubbing the sensitive skin, igniting vibrant points of sensation wherever he touched.

How would his knowing fingers feel on her naked flesh? Only her thin nightgown lay between his touch and her bare skin. She quivered at the thought.

Time stilled as the world spun. His kiss deprived her of all sense, all willpower. When his hands smoothed boldly over her breasts, she put up no resistance. He touched them, caressed them, running teasing fingers around her nipples, and her breath fled.

The backs of her knees came up against something solid, and she staggered, fighting for balance. The bed. How had he managed to maneuver her all the way to her bed without her realizing?

The situation was spiraling out of control. Was this what she wanted? To become just another of his conquests, another scratch on a wagon wheel?

“Lawrence—”

“Shhh. It’s all right. I won’t hurt you. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. But how you inflame me! I can hardly bear it.”

Swiftly, he reached behind her thighs, tipping her off balance and onto the bed.

The tiny remaining part of her rational mind admired his expertise. He would have her surrender before she even knew she’d given it.

As he laid her on the bed, she caught sight of the bonnet she was trimming. Remembering the ruined apothecary jar in the wagon, broken by their last amorous encounter, she wondered if she should try and toss it out of harm’s way.

Before she could complete the thought, he spread his body over hers, taking his weight on his elbows as he raked her face with his heated gaze.

“You’re so beautiful, Madame Julietta,” he murmured, “and thoroughly irresistible. I can’t remember the last time I wanted a woman so much. I’m in your thrall and, it seems, quite spoiled for anybody else.”

What did he mean by that?

Rolling onto his side, he took her hand and placed it very deliberately on his breeches flap and held it there.

She gulped. The hardness beneath her palm left no doubt that his body wanted hers.

But why now? He’d had every opportunity over the past few weeks to explore the unspoken attraction between them, but had made no move to do so, apart from his response when she’d kissed him.

Had he been spurned by a lover tonight? Had frustration driven him to her?