A Taste of Desire(55)
He laughed, a husky sound that sent an unwanted shock of awareness through her. “Why, Princess, I do believe you’re trying to goad me.” He stared at her as if he’d discovered her every weakness and planned to exploit each one to his advantage. Suddenly, Amelia was afraid—terrified.
“Prove it,” he whispered, a challenge lighting his eyes.
“Pardon?” Flustered, Amelia blinked repeatedly.
“Prove I can’t make you want me.”
“I-I don’t have to prove any such thing.”
He gave a short laugh. “Oh, I’m not so certain of that.” Then his hand was cupping the base of her neck and easing her closer as he lowered his head.
She could have easily broken free of his hold and ended the madness right then. There’d be no need for endless recriminations afterward. But she did no such thing. She just watched him as he drew ever closer, his eyes seductively intent on her. Never in her life had she been the focus of such heat. Never had she been so entranced by a man.
Then she was free, his hand abruptly withdrawn. He levered himself to his feet, a satisfied smile curving the lips she’d so desperately wanted on hers. She stared up at him and saw her own stark look of horror reflected back in his eyes.
“You see, I’m sure I could have already had you in a hundred different ways.” Thomas shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets because they shook. They shook with the urge to pull her into his arms, lower her onto the floor, and take her in at least one of those ways—the front, the side, from behind, he didn’t care how as long as he could assuage this hunger for her that had been practically eating him alive the past month.
He turned away to hide his reaction, his bloody erection.
“Why did you do that?” She sounded hoarse.
Thomas half turned back to her, surprised at the question, the bluntness of it.
“To prove a point,” he replied after a long moment of silence.
She rose from her chair and started toward him.
Thomas wanted to close his eyes against her allure but knew he couldn’t afford to betray any weakness. She’d use it against him and eat him alive.
“Which was what?” she asked, her voice cooler, more composed.
What the hell was he to say? To prove he was in control? Given his current feelings, fiction of such magnitude deserved its own stage.
Before he could collect his thoughts enough to offer an articulate response, she was pressed against him, her slender hands on the nape of his neck tugging his head down.
His senses were bombarded, overrun with the scent of something delicately feminine and the feel of soft female flesh. Painfully aroused, Thomas had neither the strength nor the desire to fight her—much less himself. He cupped her face in his hands and assumed control of the kiss before their lips met.
Desire and hunger obliterated every bit of his restraint. A month of denying himself and a month of wanting went into the kiss. With her head tucked into the crook of his shoulder, his hands scored the slim length of her torso. His palm grazed the tip of her breast before closing around the firm thrust of female flesh.
The nipple peaked to a hard nub beneath the silk bodice as he began to pluck at it. Her breath hitched, and then she let out a strangled moan.
He yearned to bare her breasts to his gaze. In his dreams, he’d imagined sucking the rosy, pink tip. Thomas bit back a groan. God, when had he ever wanted a woman more? It seemed like forever ago.
She returned his kisses with the fervor of an innocent, her mouth parted, her untutored tongue capable of bringing a man to his knees.
“God, I want you.” He used his free hand to pull her hips flush with his. Too many layers of clothes stood in the way of the kind of fit he most desired.
Just as quickly as he’d found himself locked in the passionate embrace, she was out of his arms.
Reflectively, he reached for her, but she hastily stepped out of his reach, backing up to her desk. Thomas emitted a low, tortured groan.
Her lips were still pouty from his kisses, her coiffure mussed so clumps of hair hung past her shoulders in a stream of dark chocolate silk. She pressed trembling fingers to her lips and stared at him with eyes still heated with passion.
“What was the meaning of that?” He barely recognized his own voice.
She didn’t reply for several seconds. Perhaps she couldn’t, given the dramatic rise and fall of her chest as she drew gulping breaths. “I kissed you because you are an arrogant, presumptuous man who believes he can make a fool of me because he’s dedicated his entire adulthood to the art of learning to pleasure a woman. Well, I think you’d have to be a complete simpleton if you didn’t have your skills honed to perfection by now. Congratulations, my lord, you are not a complete simpleton.”