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It was all suddenly so terribly complicated, and Mina refused to give in to an urgent, fierce desire to flee.
“I believe I am about to kiss you, Miss Fernsby,” he said raggedly. “And because I also believe you are a woman who would plant a mean facer, I am giving you ample chance to slap my cheek…gently of course, and storm out.”
The wretched wretch! Instead of stealing the kiss so she could later blame him for her lapse in judgment, he made her part of the decision. Not at all what a rake would do. But that he would even dare to kiss her was absolutely what a rogue would do. A shocking thought occurred to her, and she slapped a hand over her mouth.
“The lady you spoke about earlier. The one you would invite to be your lover…” Is it me? Yet she could not bring herself to ask, for she was afraid of the answer, simply because she was wildly, impossibly attracted to everything about the man before her.
“Is it you?” he murmured. “Is that what you are asking Miss Fernsby.”
“I am asking nothing of the sort, my lord.”
A sensually curious expression stamped his features. “You do not seem afraid that I might want to ravish you.”
“Am I finally meeting the rogue?” she murmured huskily, standing still when he prowled closer. “The part of you that you had been hiding beneath a veneer of charm and gentlemanly behavior?”
He allowed a respectable space to be maintained between them, but Mina felt as if she could feel the heat and sensual spell emanating from his body.
“Ah, darling, if I had known you wanted to meet that side of me…”
“I am not your darling.”
“You could be,” he murmured, his beautiful eyes gleaming with some indefinable anticipation.
And the loneliness that had lived inside of her for so long throbbed. Her first and only kiss had been when she was sixteen years old, and since then Mina had not allowed her senses to be seduced by anyone.
What good could come of it? She pressed cool hands to her overheated cheeks. She had lost so much before because she had given in to recklessness. Her family. Her mother and father, her two sisters and her older brother. Mina’s family had not spoken to her in eight years, and the pain of it lived with her every day. To become the mistress or lover of a powerful man would do her no good, even if he made her burn to live with just a smile.
She did not move when he leaned downward even more. He was going to kiss her, and God help Mina, she did not protest, for she wanted to taste him. The earl gave her enough chance to pull away with the slow descent of his head, but she only closed her eyes and waited. His lips touched hers, soft yet also firm. A muffled sound of shock at her acceptance of the boldly improper embrace slipped from her, and on its heel came a whisper of pleasure. He moved his mouth over hers, gently at first, then increasing in both pressure and intensity. The earl framed her face with his two hands, and suddenly the kiss was hot, hungry, and demanding. With a muffled moan, Mina gasped against his mouth, and his tongue swept into the warmth of her mouth. The pleasure was immediate, piercing, and terribly all-consuming.
A sweeping desire kindled within Mina, and she slid her hands upward to wrap around his neck. That move lifted her off her toes; and, to balance her weight, he swept her up against his body. She was dazedly aware her feet dangled off the ground as his mouth slanted over hers with devastating expertise. Mina’s head whirled as she felt the unmistakable shape of his swollen manhood pushing against the softness of her belly.
He broke their kiss, breathing raggedly.
“You taste so damn sweet and perfect,” he said roughly against her mouth. “I’ve never had a kiss that has quite undone me like this.”
A ripple of alarm went through Mina simply because she too had never imagined such delight from a kiss. “Good day to you, my lord, she whispered.”
“Mina—”
“Miss Fernsby,” she gasped, hating the sudden burn of tears behind her eyes. How could she be this weak? Had she not learned her most painful lesson because of her unruly desires?
Mina was still clasped in the man’s arms. “Please…lower me to the ground,” she whispered, a tight ache crawling up her throat.
He complied and Mina wrenched herself from the earl’s arms, pressing a finger over her mouth. Good God, she was out of her mind. What was she thinking to allow him to kiss her, and to have responded with such wantonness?
“That must never happen again,” she whispered, truly stricken.
“Of course,” he replied immediately, yet there was a gleam in his eyes that had her stepping back several paces.
“I am not about to ravish you, Miss Fernsby; there is no need to retreat from me.”
More the pity. She gasped aloud at the traitorous thought and the slow ache that rolled through her entire body. Something that had lain dormant in her for years stirred, alarming her with its intensity. A sense of panic balled in the pit of her belly, and Mina hurriedly glanced away from the earl.
“Unless you are open to my ravishment.”
Desperate to not appear as if she was overtaken by nerves, she lifted her chin and met his regard.
“I could be,” she whispered.
He stilled, then reached for her, drawing her tight against his body. Colin lowered his head, and when his mouth was a mere inch from hers, Mina murmured, “I could be…if this is a marriage offer.”
“Bloody hell,” he whispered.
“Precisely, Your Lordship, bloody hell.”
Slapping his hand away, she collected her stick and satchel and marched from his house, painfully aware of his stare against her back.
