The Seduction of Sebastian St. James (House of Renwick #2)(18)

Shuddering, she pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to research any further.

She made an excuse about needing to fix her dress and ran away.

Well, she walked fast, considering she had been informed repeatedly over the last day that ladies did not run.

Just as she was about to reach the door to her freedom, she was yanked out of the hallway by large hands.

It was Sebastian.

And he was hiding in a closet.

That was what they had been reduced to.

Closet hiding.

It couldn’t get worse.

And then...

“Your grace!” a young girl whined. “I am positive I saw him run over here.”

Sebastian tightened his grip on Emma’s waist in warning.

Like she would say anything to give herself away.

As if a candle were suddenly in the small closet aiding in the temperature increase, her body began to overcharge. Maybe it was the closeness, or maybe the kiss had affected her more than she thought.

Like a magnet, she was drawn to him. Couldn’t pull away if she wanted to. His hands, which had been on her waist, began sliding upwards toward her breasts. His fingers brushed provocatively all the way past them to her neck. Her breathing was laborious as her body leaned into him. Waiting for something. What, she didn’t know. His hands seemed to burn wherever they traveled. A sense of loss descended on her when he pulled one hand away and cursed.

****

Hot desire had descended in that closet. He was on fire for her. Yet this would be the second time in one night he had managed to nearly compromise her. So why couldn’t he find the desire to push her away or even apologize?

The little infuriating minx even had the audacity to lie to Nicholas and then throw him mercilessly into the pit of wandering debutantes.

At the time, he had wondered if she possessed a heart at all.

Then telling the girls his favorite color was yellow, oh yes, and to stalk him. A personal favorite. His butler would have his hide by the morning, considering Emma had left out an important piece of information. That he wasn’t currently in residence.

They needed to join forces, but not in the way that kept happening.

The kissing, it had to stop. It was already complicating things. For example, his view on finding a mate. Now plagued with images of her each time he closed his eyes, it would be that much more difficult when he had to actually find someone he would be attracted to and could stand to be in the same room with for longer than five minutes.

Emma would ruin him forever with her luscious body and challenging antics. Never had he met a girl with a more contagious spirit.

Exactly the opposite of what he needed in the next duchess. But then again, all that was necessary was an heir. However was he supposed to find a legitimate wife with all the debutantes swarming around? It would be impossible to discover if they had any substance at all.

Lost in thought he had almost missed Emma when she had sauntered by. And now she was leaning into him like some bloody wanton.

Oh, how he wanted to give in.

His hands had a mind of their own as they traced upward from her perfectly shaped waist. He only paused when her eyes began to close. Lust pounded through his veins as her smell invaded his senses. Perhaps one kiss. How could it further complicate things? Yes, one kiss, and once the night was over, he would go about finding a suitable bride. But he was a man, and although given the title of angel duke, it was deuced hard not to take advantage of this advantageous situation.

Blood pounded his ears as he watched the way her breathing became laborious. Watched in utter fascination as her breasts strained against her bodice. Just this once then, he would satisfy his desire and hers. Tomorrow was another day altogether.

And then Emma was moving closer, leaning further as his back touched the edge of the wall.

Swallowing the sudden dryness that had taken permanent residence in his throat, he braced his senses for impact. All five of them, for she was mauling him with her scent, her presence, her body…everything about her made him want to cry out in frustration.

“Emma.” He choked out her name, trying desperately to sound more in control than he felt.

Her body continued to sway in front of his.

A tendril of hair bounced out of her coiffure.

And it was his undoing.

Reaching out, he grasped at the silky tendril and lifted it to his mouth. Was he mad? Or just bombarded with lust? Because all he wanted to do was taste her. To open her up and see what treasure her body could behold. It was not merely a kiss anymore. A satisfying romp in the closet. It was so much more, too much more.

She was making him want to cross boundaries.

And the Duke of Tempest never crossed boundaries. He was the most discreet of anyone he knew, including his grandmother. Quite a feat.

“Sebastian.” Her voice, no, her plea broke the argument he was having with himself in his mind.

“Yes.” His lips trembled.

“Please.”

Oh, beg me, please. Say my name.

As if reading his thoughts, she whispered his name in reverence. Whatever had taken place in the ball was now forgotten.

It was just them.

Alone and sharing a private and provocative embrace.

Dear God, help him. He was going to ruin everything.

Might as well do it thoroughly.

His head dipped toward hers. Taking one last shaky breath, his lips descended with every intention of plundering her mouth. A little further. There was no going back. Their laborious breaths seemed to tangle, making the room seem like magic. The moment was perfect. Her eyes closed in anticipation. Reaching the point of no return, his lips brushed against hers. Tentatively at first, almost waiting for her invitation.