A Passion for Pleasure(15)

Oh, dear Lord.

What was she thinking? What kind of woman was she to imagine such things when all she wanted, the only thing she wanted was to have…

He touched her. Sebastian slipped his left hand beneath her chin and raised her head so that she had to meet his eyes again. His palm was warm, cupping her chin with the same gentleness he might use to hold a jeweled music box. He studied her face as if he were assessing the value of a rare artifact, his dark brows drawn together, his eyes filled with curiosity.

Questions lingered in his expression. Clara did not know how to answer them, but her body responded with a quickening tempo that made her breath uncoil in her chest.

Kiss me.

The wish bloomed hard, a bright, red rose in midwinter, filling her with the glow of anticipation.

Kiss me and banish the fear.

Clara blinked against the sting in her eyes. Her throat tightened. She curled her fingers around Sebastian’s wrist, though whether to ease his hand away or urge him to keep touching her, she did not know.

She did know that his wrist was strong in her grip, his pulse beating against her fingertips. She imagined his blood ran hot and swift through his veins, inciting his force, his intensity. She wanted to slide her hand farther up his forearm, to feel the taut muscles and sinews, the brush of coarse dark hairs across her palm.

He didn’t move away. She didn’t release him.

And then he lowered his head and kissed her. So warm, so light was the touch of his mouth that the center of Clara’s being melted like ice sliding over a hot pane of glass.

She swallowed, parting her lips to draw in a breath. His nearness, his rough energy, sank into her blood and filled her with sensation, heat, and a yearning for something she had never known.

“Oh.” Her whisper slipped like a delicacy into his mouth.

He slid his hand around to the back of her neck, drawing her closer. Her breasts brushed against his chest. Their breath mingled. He tasted like cinnamon. His tongue darted out to touch the corner of her lips, a delicious swipe that made shivers cascade through Clara’s entire body.

Who have you become?

She remembered him so well from all those years ago, that affable, talented young man who could keep company with both kings and peasants. Now he was different, like a creature from mythology, filled with complexities that she could not begin to untangle. Exuding an allure that she could not resist. Wrapping her in a heat that felt instinctively comforting and safe.

She curled her fingers around the lapels of his coat and sank into the kiss as if it could last forever, and in that instant, she wanted it to. She wanted to stand here for all eternity with Sebastian’s hand cupping her neck and his mouth caressing hers because once he stopped, once he lifted his head away from her, Clara knew the anguish would swamp her once again.

Her grip on him tightened. His kiss deepened. Her blood exploded with colors and light, born from the memories of who they had once been—a girl holding fast to the good in the world, and a young man of such patience and kindness.

That man would help her now, if he still existed. Clara grasped the truth of that belief as if it were sacred, and a spiral of hope filled her. She spread one hand over his broad chest, feeling his heart thump against her palm through the material of his shirt and coat. His teeth closed gently over her lower lip, whisking heat over her nerves.

The middle of Clara’s soul softened at Sebastian’s nearness, the warm strength he exuded, at the nascent longing that he might prove her ally in the desperate pursuit to reclaim her son.

Andrew.

Coldness swept down her spine at the unbidden thought. Shame cut through her desire like a blade ripping into silk. She yanked herself away from Sebastian, holding her hands to her blazing cheeks as she turned away. Her heart hammered in her throat.

She had forgotten. For one brief, aching moment she had forgotten her son.

Clara inhaled a deep breath to quell her turbulent emotions before she turned back to face Sebastian. His eyes sparked with both lingering heat and wariness, as if her abrupt withdrawal had incited his own confusion.

Her heart still pounded. Oh, heavens. As a young woman, she had imagined what it would feel like to be kissed by Sebastian Hall, but she had never dreamed it would be like this.

And never had her imagination conjured the intricate weaving of emotions binding her now, all securing the strange but firm knowledge that Sebastian Hall could somehow help her.

“I…I think you’d best go now,” she stammered.

“Shall I return tomorrow?”