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He beckoned to her silently, relentlessly, and she was powerless to stop herself from raising her face and offering her mouth.

Then Devin’s lips were upon hers. Hot and firm and delicious and heady.

Oh, so heady.

She gripped his muscled biceps to keep from sagging into a molten puddle on the rough floor.

His kiss grew more intense, more demanding, as he crushed her to his chest.

Yes. Yes.

A primal groan escaped him as he grazed his mouth over Trinity’s cheeks, jaw, and neck. All the while, he boldly caressed her back and shoulders, invoking sensations she’d never experienced before.

Head thrown back, she allowed him access to her throat, her mind a dizzy haze, unable to think. All she could do was feel.

Devin’s heat. His caresses. His blistering kisses.

“Sweet Trinity,” he murmured again before taking her mouth once more in a soul-shattering kiss.

He plundered the depths of her mouth, and rather than be shocked or pull away—oh, no indeed—Trinity pressed even closer. Needing to feel Devin. To smell him. To taste him.

His breathing coming in ragged gasps, he set her away from him, almost roughly.

Lost, bereft, she reached for him.

“If I continue, sweeting, I shan’t be able to stop.”

“Oh.” Dazed, her lips swollen and her blood singing, Trinity put two fingers to her mouth.

She had never been kissed before, let alone by an experienced rake.

Shouldn’t she be ashamed?

Shocked?

Of something so glorious? So blissful? So right?

No. No.

Furthermore, she would not deny her culpability. She’d kissed Devin back and would not throw silly, theatrical accusations at him now. However, she must gather her scattered wits and consider her reputation.

“I think you should go, Devin. Before we make a monumental mistake.”

Before she begged him to stay, reputation, common sense, and propriety be hanged.

Despite the chaos raging inside, only the merest tremor afflicted her voice.

Eyes hooded, he regarded her for a long, tense moment. So long, in fact, that her already taut nerves stretched nearly to the point of shattering.

“Trinity?”

Trinity could not prevent the tiny, pleased smile from tipping her lips upward. She adored it when Devin said her name, his tenor deep and husky. As if he was caught up in the same tidal wave of emotion and desire.

“Yes?”

The sultry voice did not sound like her, but rather a wanton’s—a woman of the world offering a wicked invitation. That would never do, even if it were partially true.

She cleared her throat. “Yes?”