Saving the Scientist (The Restitution League #2)(45)

She couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t stop staring at those beautiful hands. Her breath came faster, harder, even as the heat coiling deep in her belly pulsed to life.

Now she was the one about to come undone.

She could leap straight into those flames. Edison would follow her lead. Second chances might never come. For once in her life, she could do the daring thing. The exciting thing.

The ruinously thrilling thing.

Excitement and fear and lust—definitely lust—spurred her on. She had her hand on the door of a tiger’s cage. She could cross the threshold into a whirlwind of adventure, or she could walk away. Stay safe.

Stay dull.

That presented no choice at all. No one got two chances to ride the tiger.

Before fear could restore reason, she acted. Legs trembling, Ada rose from her seat as if some foreign entity controlled her body. She rounded the table plopped down in his lap, winding her arms around his neck.

Surprise, then delight, then pure desire, played out across his face.

He cupped her face in his hands and pulled her in for a long, slow, deep kiss.

Ada moaned and leaned into him, wanting every part of her touching every part of him.

But when they came up for air, Edison pushed her gently away.

Lips swollen from his kisses, Ada could only stare. The steady look in his eyes gave nothing away. She looked down, willing the sharp pain in her heart to ease.

He was trying to let her down gently. She waited for the damning words, unsure whether she’d be able to make it out the door before she burst into tears.

“You need to be sure about this,” he warned, his voice low and intent.

Once his words registered, relief rushed through her so quickly her breath rushed out in a huge gust.

Had she not been bold enough? How could he question her desire?

And then she realized—gentleman that he was—he was giving her one last chance to reconsider.

Which she had not the slightest intention of doing.

Ada smiled at him as she imagined willing, wicked women smiled at their lovers, and pressed her lips to the pulse beating at the side of his neck. “I am absolutely sure, Mr. Sweet. Absolutely positively completely utterly sure,” she said and brought her lips down on his.



*

Ada opened her mouth to him, putting her heart and soul into the kiss.

Edison groaned, and deepened the kiss, crushing her closer to his hard, unyielding body.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her palms grew damp. Everything around her appeared to slide suddenly askew. She shivered as a delicious, almost feverish warmth spread through her.

If she had not been positive she enjoyed excellent health, she would have thought she was ill.

Edison chuckled. “I take it we should proceed?”

Ada slapped his arm. “You daft man, how plain do I need to make it?”

He caught her chin on his finger, lifting it until their eyes met, then he traced the tip of his finger along the edge of her jaw. “Not plain at all from where I’m sitting.”

Ada laughed out loud. Actually laughed. A dusty old corner of her brain wondered when she’d last done that.

His mouth came down on hers, cutting off any further speculation. Once again, she opened to him. He kissed the way he did everything else, with a vigor, a confidence, a sensuality she’d never experienced. His tongue delved into her mouth, wringing a moan from deep in her throat.

He took a breast in his hand and teased the taut nipple hidden beneath thin layers of batiste and satin. Drawn to his touch as surely as sodium bonded to chlorine, she arched into his hold, pressing her swelling breast into his calloused palm.

“Sweet blazing hell,” he whispered and touched his lips to her other breast.

He nuzzled the pebbled tip through the fabric, wringing an answering curse from her lips.

Ada stilled. Her senses collided, producing a dazzling chaos. She’d always prided herself on the strength of her nerves. She never suffered from the vapors, never felt faint, never succumbed to light-headiness. But at that moment, she felt utterly dazed.

His slid a hand beneath her skirts, rucking the blue satin up to the tops of her thighs before cupping her buttocks. Ada dipped her head to kiss the pulse beating at the side of his neck. The catch in his breath emboldened her, filling her with a joyous power.

An insistent tugging at her waist commanded her attention. Before her befuddled brain could make sense of it, her bustle dropped to the floor, followed quickly by her petticoats.

Now there was nothing between them but the satin of her skirts and the sheer silk of her stockings. His rigid shaft pressed into her leg, perfectly hard, perfectly ready.

As was she.

Ada squirmed against him. She wanted the yards of fabric gone, wanted him naked against her own bare skin.

Edison roared. He squeezed her buttocks in his large hands and lifted her off her feet. “Careful, luv.” His voice was husky with passion as he set her down on the table top.

Her skirts billowed about her waist, exposing the tops of her thighs and the heated cleft between to the open air. He was staring at the juncture of her thighs, lust darkening his eyes.

Even as her cheeks burned, a surge of uncontrollable desire rippled through her like a hot wind, blowing away any last wisps of modesty.

She pressed her hands into the table top behind her and spread her legs, leaving her womanhood open to his gaze. “I don’t want to be careful,” she said. “I want to be wild, and I want you to be wicked. Very, very wicked.”