First Comes Scandal (Rokesbys #4)(61)

Maybe a little nervous. “You should sit down before we start moving,” he said.

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” She sat, although not where he’d wanted her to.

“You don’t get sick riding backward?” he asked.

“What? Oh. No. Not really.”

“Not really?”

They started moving. They held their breath, but Cat-Head didn’t make a sound.

“Not much,” Georgie amended.

“Then sit over here.” He reached out, took her hand, and pulled her over to the forward-facing seat. “I don’t bite.”

He didn’t let go of her hand.

She blushed. “I thought you’d want room.”

“There’s plenty of room.”

She gave a little tug, and he reluctantly let go of her hand; he supposed she needed it in order to get herself settled.

They moved slowly through the village, Nicholas and Georgie both keeping a wary eye on the cat.

But it didn’t make a sound.

“Unbelievable,” Nicholas murmured.

“I wasn’t sure it was going to work,” Georgie admitted.

“You may very well be a genius, Mrs. Rokesby.”

She turned to him and smiled.

And again, all he could think of was the sun, and the way he felt happy when it broke through the clouds on a long gray day.

“Georgie?”

Her eyes lit with curiosity.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

Because honestly, it was past time.





Chapter 16





In a way, Georgie knew what he was going to say before he said it. There was something in his eyes, in the way he looked at her and covered her hand with his before he spoke. And of course it was crazy that they hadn’t kissed, not properly.

They were married. They were supposed to kiss each other.

Georgie just wasn’t sure it was supposed to feel …

Or that she was supposed to feel …

She looked at him.

She looked at Nicholas, at the man she’d known her whole life, the man she’d only recently stopped thinking of as a boy. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath, or look away from his mouth, or wonder what it might feel like if his lips touched hers.

And she thought about the fact that she’d taken his name. She had pledged herself to him for better or for worse, till death did they part. It was supposed to be holy, but what she was feeling right now wasn’t spiritual, it was base and it was carnal, and it thrilled her even as it terrified her, and— “Georgie?”

His voice. It did things to her. This was new.

“Georgie?”

She dragged her gaze from his mouth to his eyes.

“You’re thinking too much,” he murmured.

“How do you know?”

His lips curved. “I just do.”

“I think you know me,” she whispered.

This seemed to amuse him. “I’ve always known you.”

She shook her head. “No. Not like now.”

“Not like I will,” he vowed.

Mere inches separated them, and then slowly, softly, his lips touched hers. At first it was the softest brush of skin. Then his hand touched the back of her neck, and it was all she could do not to melt into him then and there. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and what had started as a hint of a kiss turned into something deeper.

Hotter.

Georgie gasped at the unexpected rush of sensation, and when her lips parted, the kiss grew even more intimate, more luxuriant.

She hadn’t known that a kiss could involve more than just a touch of the lips. Or that she could feel it everywhere, across her skin, in her blood, in the very center of her soul.

“Nicholas,” she murmured, and she heard the wonder in her voice.

“I know,” was his response. “I know.”

She felt his hands move to her back, but it didn’t matter if he was pulling her against him because she was already pressing forward. This need within her—she didn’t fully understand it. All she knew was that she wanted this. She wanted to be closer.

She wanted him.

She kissed him back—or at least she thought she did. She’d never kissed anyone before, not like this. She could only assume she was doing it right because he seemed to like it.

And she knew she liked it.

Tentatively, she brought one of her hands to his hair. Surely at some point in her life she’d touched it before, but suddenly she had to know—right now—what it felt like between her fingers. Was it soft? Springy? Both? His hair had always had the tendency to curl, just a little bit, and she was gripped by the most foolish desire to find one of those almost-ringlets and give it a little tug, just to see how quickly it would spring back into shape.

But first she just wanted to touch him. To feel his warmth, and to revel in the knowledge that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

It was a heady, giddy feeling.

It was glorious.

“Georgie,” he murmured, and she heard the wonder in his voice.

So she said, just like he had, “I know.”

He smiled. She felt it against her skin when his lips trailed across her cheek to the line of her throat.

She tipped her head back, shivering with delight as his lips found the hollow above her collarbone. She didn’t know … she’d had no idea … if anyone had told her …