by
Joan Overfield
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She flinched at his touch, but did nothing to end it. "I do not think Miss Dicks pinched you nearly enough," she complained with a light laugh. "You are still misbehaving most shamefully." "That is so," he murmured, turning his casual touch into a caress. "But if you think it will do any good, you may feel free to pinch me anywhere you please. I am putty in a woman's hands." "Are you?" Her hand stole up to touch his face. "Why do I believe it is the other way around?" Stephen was about to respond when he heard the tinkling of the dinner bell. Much as he would like to continue this intriguing conversation, he knew he didn't dare risk offending his hostess. Besides, he'd learned that anticipation only made things that much sweeter. With that thought firmly in mind, he took a reluctant step back. "I suppose we had ought to be returning," he said, his eyes lingering on her lips.  "Yes, I-I suppose we had ought to," she agreed, her voice slightly breathless. "I am sure they must be wondering what we are up to out here amongst the pinks and peonies." "I am sure they have a fair, idea," he returned wryly, hoping no one would notice the unmistakable evidence straining the front of his breeches. He gave her mouth another look, and then decided the devil with propriety. If he didn't have at least a taste of those luscious lips, he would go mad. His arms stole about her, and he drew her boldly to him. "My lord!" Her hands went to his chest as if to push him away, but he would have none of her coyness now. He moved against her until he knew she could not help but be aware of his arousal. "Ah, my sweeting, you would not be so cruel as to deny a starving man a morsel, would you?" he murmured, bending his head to nip playfully at her lip. "Just one kiss, that is all I ask of you. One small kiss, hmm?" His mouth closed over hers in hungry demand. The feel of her lips beneath his inflamed Stephen's already heightened senses. Her mouth was honey-sweet, and although her response was somewhat untutored, it was still enough to make him groan with pleasure. By exerting a slight pressure he was able to pry her lips apart, and his tongue slid inside in search of further delight. Her gasp of surprise only made things easier for him, and he deepened the kiss with increasing fervor. "Ah, God, my dove," he muttered, when at last he rasied his head. "But you make my senses swim. Say you will come to my bed tonight. I will die if I cannot have you." "I . . . I . . ." |
