A Little Bit Sinful(26)
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.’
“Shakespeare,” she whispered. “Sonnet 116. It’s one of my favorites.”
“Has George ever recited poetry for you?”
“Heaven’s no.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not even certain George knows any poetry. Well, I mean obviously he would have been educated in the verse as you were, but he seems to favor other types of entertainment.”
“Were I to court you, I would recite such verses, though I would have to insist you not relay my secret to anyone. A man has to keep up his reputation, you see, and a gaming hell owner who recites Shakespeare is unacceptable at best.”
Her lips twitched in a smile. “Your secret is safe with me. That is, if you were courting me.”
“Which I am not.”
“Of course not.” She was quiet for a moment. “But if you were, what else, besides poetry, how else would you woo me?”
“Riding in the park is nice, but I’d prefer someplace a little more intimate, more private.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”
“Indeed. For instance, people would be shocked and scandalized if I kissed you in the middle of Hyde Park, or say in the middle of a waltz at Lord Abernathy’s estate.”
“Oh my goodness.” She leaned in a little closer, and it was all the encouragement he needed.
With one arm, he pulled her closer then dropped his mouth to hers. It was a kiss meant to show her what she could have outside of a marriage with George. A kiss meant to show her she was desirable just as she was, not some enhanced version of herself. But the instant his lips touched hers, he forgot all about his intentions.
Her lips were soft and pliant beneath his. With only a tiny amount of coaxing, he was able to open her mouth and explore inside. Her warm breath mingled with his.
God, she felt so good, tasted so sweet. He deepened the kiss and felt her fingers lace through his hair. Her tongue moved against his, fueling his arousal. Damnation, but he wanted her. Right here, right now on the floor of his billiard room. Or better yet, up against the billiards table.
He fought the urge to groan and forced himself to end the kiss.
Her eyes remained closed, and her breath came in shallow puffs. Then she opened her eyes and smiled at him. “I suspect your manner of courtship would be quite effective.”
…
In the carriage back to her townhome Clarissa replayed the two kisses she’d received that evening. The one with George, she’d instigated, but then somehow had lost control of and it had been an utter disaster. A rather unpleasant disaster at that. There was nothing particularly wrong with George’s kiss; his technique had been different than Justin’s, but still a passionate kiss. And yet she’d felt nothing. Well, nothing save panic to end it quickly.
Contrast to the one she’d received from Justin, which had affected her in both body and soul, it seemed. Of course it hadn’t hurt that he’d quoted her favorite poem. If she could only read one author and listen to one composer, it would be Shakespeare and Beethoven. They’d been her favorites since she’d been a girl. So to say she’d been ripe for the plucking, as it were, would be an understatement. She only wished she could contribute her entire reaction to Shakespeare. Unfortunately, she had begun to sink beneath Justin’s spell long before he’d brought out the poetry. She did not think of herself as a vain woman, but his compliments had turned her head and warmed her to the very core. No man had ever said such things to her. And even if one had, she doubted she would have believed him. However, it was different with Justin. He had a way of looking at a woman that made her believe he could see right to her very soul. And that what he saw there entranced him. It was heady stuff, being wooed by Justin Rodale.
Why was her reaction so very different from one man’s kiss to the other’s? It truly made no sense. Since she had romantic feelings for George, had planned to be his wife for the majority of her adult life, shouldn’t his kisses be the ones making her knees wobble? Shouldn’t his kiss be the one that caused such delicious sensations to coil through her body, teasing at her breasts, and ending up at the apex of her thighs?