A Taste of Desire(86)
His hands, fisted at his sides, moved spasmodically. His green eyes blazed as if he wanted to wring her neck and only the thought of hanging from a rope in the middle of Trafalgar Square prevented him.
“That you find me objectionable for your friend but availed yourself of me is truly the height of hypocrisy.” Amelia hadn’t intended to say a word about the prior night, but too frequently the man caused her to speak without thought.
“When I discover an uninvited woman in my chambers, I’m obligated to have my way with her.” His reply came back with biting promptness. “And as I’m sure you recall, my intentions were welcomed with great enthusiasm. But I’m sure that’s the part you most want to forget.”
Smug, arrogant cad. He’d find every opportunity to throw the incident back in her face. “I unfortunately lack your vast pool of experience as to what is de rigueur in that particular situation.”
His mouth quirked in a fashion she found infuriating: smug yet grim. “It certainly didn’t stop you from scratching my back and howling like a cat in heat.”
Reflectively, Amelia lowered her head to hide the blush scorching her cheeks. Her father had always said she was impetuous. This was one conversation she wished she hadn’t broached.
“Ah, I see you have no response to that.”
She could hear the amusement in his voice. He sounded like he was rubbing his hands together in glee.
Amelia jerked her head up and pinned him with a withering stare. “You are deplorable.”
His smile broadened. “I don’t believe that’s what you said last night. If I recall, you could barely speak. There was all that gasping, whimpering, and moaning. Whoever thought you would be such a lustful bedmate. Thankfully, I discovered before it was too late, the best way to—”
The chair toppled wildly as Amelia sprang to her feet. Her heart pounded madly. “Stop! Stop! I will not sit here and listen to this. You are the most—the most—” She broke off, the right word failing her. At that moment, there wasn’t a word strong enough, heinous enough to describe Thomas Armstrong.
“Skilled lover you ever had?” he asked innocently.
“Ha!” she shrieked. “The only one I’ve had thus far. And I’m certain you will shrivel in comparison to the next man.”
The speed at which he reached her desk and hauled her into his arms was staggering. And the speed at which her mouth parted to accept his tongue even more so. Her only excuse was he had caught her unawares. She hadn’t had the time to fortify her resistance. And her stupid body didn’t know it wasn’t supposed to succumb to this man again. And again, and again.
She tasted like peppermint. She felt soft and firm in all the right places—her delectable bottom, her beautiful breasts. And God, she could kiss. She knew how to use her tongue for such an innocent. She had a way of capturing his between her lips, and languidly sucking, coaxing, sipping on it as if she were enjoying one of those flavored Italian ices that were so popular.
Thomas adjusted their positions so he could fit his erection against her sweet mound, silently cursing the endless swaths of grey fabric of her skirt. His cock jerked at the contact. He ached for nothing more than to take her right there on the study floor.
Again, he was experiencing a loss of control. Amelia had somehow managed to turn him into a simpleton when it came to matters of the flesh. He dragged his mouth from hers and feathered down the smooth line of her neck back up to the sensitive spot behind her ear. At his kisses, she began to pant and moan. His mouth then sought the indent of her shoulder. She moaned again.
Drowning, that sound was his lifeline back to sanity. Summoning up a will he required in Amelia’s presence, Thomas released her. His release was so abrupt she stumbled backward. Her hands caught the edge of the desk to steady her. She stared up at him, her blue eyes unguarded for a moment. Surprise, lust, and yearning were all there on her face. She quickly turned her back to him, her breath ragged, her slender shoulders heaving with the exertion of unspent passion.
Thomas thought to say something—anything. He could think of nothing. He cleared his throat, his heart pounding as if he’d been holding his breath under water until his lungs threatened to burst. And each drawn breath didn’t bring him the relief he sought. Slowly, carefully, he turned from her bent figure, and made his way from the room as if she were opium and he, addicted.
Amelia straightened only when the door whistled closed. Her breath escaped her lips in an audible, jagged hiss. She tentatively put her hand to her throat and then touched her face to ensure she was still there. Then the knowledge rushed through her with the force of a wave crashing against the shores. It had been he who had called a halt to the kiss, not her. He who had pulled away.