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Chapter 9
Kissing is of four kinds: moderate, contracted, pressed, and soft, according to the different parts of the body which are kissed, for different kinds of kisses are appropriate for different parts of the body.
The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana
Nick kissed her carelessly, as he would any winsome, half-clothed woman in his arms, forgetting for a moment that she was his bride, and a virgin, and required special handling.
Special care.
Her lips were so smooth—like fine, aged rum, sliding against him, her tongue, when he discovered it, surprisingly responsive to his movements.
He kissed her casually.
At first.
Content to learn the melody of her sighs. The supple ridge of her spine.
She had full hips and a rounded, high-sprung arse made to fit his palms.
When he pulled her closer, firm breasts molded against him and soft arms twined around his neck.
He kissed her with no deeper design... no danger of being carried away... until something changed.
Intensified.
He couldn’t have articulated why suddenly the walls of the room expanded outward with a whoosh and a roaring began in his eardrums.
He’d gone a whole month without a woman; that must explain this lifting sensation in his abdomen. The dizzying rush of pleasure.
The same golden haze of oblivion he found after pounding a glass of strong whiskey.
He crushed her full lips beneath his, intoxicated on the woman-sweet scent of her, overwhelmed by the desire to claim his bride.
He tilted her head back roughly, deepening the kiss, opening her for him, his tongue mimicking the act of love.
She moaned, deep in her throat, and the sound nearly drove him past reason.
Heeding only the heat crackling between them, he slid the pearl-studded sleeve of her gown off one shoulder, exposing one of her rosy nipples.
She broke the kiss, the startled expression in her aquamarine eyes stopping him cold.
Nick lurched back to reality. What was he doing?
This was his wife, an innocent lady. He wanted to make the experience memorable for her. Not some sordid, hasty coupling mere hours after the wedding.
He’d planned to seduce her slowly, prolonging the pleasure for both of them.
He could wait a few more hours.
Taking a full breath to steady his racing pulse, Nick replaced her sleeve.
“I think that ought to do it,” he said gruffly. “The gown, that is. I believe it’s... unbuttoned.”
The gown’s undone. And so are you. Unraveled by a kiss. Unacceptable.
“I rather think it is.” She gave a short laugh. “I never cared for this gown. My mother chose it for me.”
She plucked at a pearl stitched to her skirts. “Reminds me of a speckled mushroom our cook warned us of back in Pudsey. She called it a Panther Cap but the true name is Amanita pantherina. If you accidentally ingest one, you will hallucinate for—”
