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“If you’re an expert on men’s passions, then this won’t be a problem for you.”
He pulled her against him and took her lips to punish her, to demonstrate his dominance, to prove the desire between them. He wanted her surrender. But he was lost by the mere touch of her soft, warm lips. The taste of Perdita was familiar and gut-wrenchingly new.
He couldn’t stop the deep moan or desperate hunger overtaking him when she pressed her lips against his, not stepping away from the challenge.
He softened to her demanding kiss, allowing her to take the lead. He felt her hesitation and the hitch in her breath when he met her aggression with tenderness. He gently kissed her, pouring in all his love, his need for her. She melted against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her surrender was his undoing. She belonged to him. His body rejoiced in her lush womanly contours against his hardness. He was unaware of anything but Perdita as he traced her lips, seeking entrance to her moist heat, ready to plunge his tongue into her mouth to taste her.
“Darling, meet me after the ball. I want a chance to make it right between us. I never meant to hurt you.”
She stiffened against him, ready to pull away. She might not be ready for words between them but her desire, how she softened against him, and how she grasped his lapels and pulled his lips to hers, to explore with her tongue, was enough for now.
“No promises, Dash. Just kiss me.”
He couldn’t keep her away from the ball much longer. He had to stop, or he’d be taking her against the wall. But it was always like this with Perdita: One touch and they both went up in flames. He showered kisses on her lips, her cheeks, her forehead, not wanting the interlude to stop. But he would never bring scandal to Perdita.
He immediately released Perdita and stepped away at the sound of loud coughing and then a woman’s voice. “I feel a chill coming on.” The voice pitched loudly for all nearby guests to hear. “I think we must return to the ballroom, don’t you, Lady Perdita? You and I have been out here too long.”
Perdita startled and then jumped back against the nearby shrubs. “Oh, my God.” She muttered under her breath.
Miss Rothsby moved close and whispered, “Dita, you must return to the ball. People are asking questions. Take my arm and smile.”
Perdita nodded, then patted at the curls that had loosened. She didn’t meet his eyes but smoothed her skirt. “Please do not follow me.”
“Yes, it would be best if you remained outside for a reasonable period of time. Dita doesn’t need her name linked with yours.”
He was left alone in the darkness. A familiar place.
