AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Tell her that I kissed you and you couldn't refuse me. Those things are true, after all, if not in that order."
She snuck a tiny smile at that. "You want me to convince her that I love you?"
"Would she believe you?"
"I don't think so. I wrote to her a week ago, after all, and somehow forgot to mention you."
"A tragic oversight." Unable to resist the lovely picture she presented, he stroked the backs of his fingers over her rosy cheek. "Then why don't you tell her that I make you feel things you've never felt before. Would she believe that?" Her cheek grew warmer against his knuckles, and he was sure she leaned her face more fully into his touch.
Her gaze rose to meet his, eyes flashing green heat. "She might."
He couldn't kiss her. Not now. Not in her chambers when she wore that flowing white gown and nothing else. She'd be soft right now if he touched her. Soft and.... He dropped his hand and stepped back.
"I finished your book. You were right. The handsome gentleman did save the day."
Her eyes narrowed with irritation. "Mm. Who is that woman to you?"
"What woman?" He wondered if his face looked as dumbfounded as he felt.
"Patience Wellingsly. Is she your lover?"
"What?" His mind spun with the change of topic. "No. Of course not."
"Then why does she look at you as if she wants to he devoured?"
He shook his head. "Perhaps because I've refused to take a bite?"
She crossed her arms and glared at him. "I don't believe you."
"Marissa." His brain finally caught up to the topic, and Jude registered a shocking fact. Marissa York was jealous. Over him. "I have never so much as kissed Patience Wellingsly."
"Well then, that puts me a full minute ahead of her in your distribution of intimacy. A comforting lead."
He didn't point out that she was jealous. She'd only deny it. But there was one thing she might not deny. "Are you complaining about a lack of kisses, Miss York?"
"Well, what is the point of being betrothed if one can't even enjoy kisses? I was kissed more often before!"
"Were you? By whom?"
Her chin inched up. "Men."
"Are you sure?"
"Why do you keep saying that? What is this great divide in your mind that sets men apart from boys?"
This time when he stepped toward her, Marissa stepped away. Then she seemed to realize what she'd done and stood her ground, shoulders back and chin high. And when he kissed her
, she leaned into him, lingers spreading open on his chest.
He didn't lease her this time, but kissed her fully. She tasted of sweet, hot tea, and she was soft. Very soft. The layers of thin fabric did nothing to conceal the feel of her curves when his hands touched her hips. She wore no corset. She wore practically nothing at all.
When she sighed into his mouth and pressed her entire body more firmly against his, Jude groaned and told himself to set her away. Instead he shifted her toward her bed. A natural instinct. An awful idea. But he was all instinct now, as her tongue stroked his in eager hunger.
Her passion had stolen his willpower away. Her hands eased beneath his coat and snuck over his chest. Her knee rubbed restless between his. Her soft noises seemed to wind around him and squeeze till he couldn't breathe.
He eased her toward the bed until her legs touched the mattress, then laid her slowly onto the goose down. "If I were a boy, I'd probably slide my hand beneath your neckline right now."
Her eyes popped open. "Oh!"
