Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)(55)

Without thinking, he reached out and took the letter from her hand. If she kept tapping it against her lip like that, he would have to kiss her. No decision involved. He just would. Of course, now that he held the paper in his own hand, Jeremy realized he scarcely needed the tapping letter as provocation. She was too close. So close his mouth ached to taste her. She would taste like wine. He thought about taking a step back. He didn’t.

“You don’t write letters,” he said, sliding his thumb across the uneven wax seal. The sensation instantly recalled the puckered satin of her nipple. His breath hitched. He ought to step back. He couldn’t.

“I don’t write letters. It’s Sophia’s. She’s in love. She wants to elope.”

“With Toby?”

Lucy bit her lip. “No.”

He broke the seal and unfolded the paper. She made no effort to stop him. He perused the contents quickly and refolded the letter before shoving it inside the breast pocket of his coat. “You can’t do this, Lucy. I won’t let you.”

“Why not? If Sophia’s in love with another man, doesn’t she deserve to be happy? If she’s in love with another man, doesn’t Toby deserve to know?”

Her eyes were guileless green, but Jeremy saw red. “Don’t pretend this is about them. You don’t give a damn about what Toby or Sophia deserve. This is all about you. You think that if Sophia’s out of the picture, Toby will turn to you. He won’t.”

Her eyes glimmered, and she lifted her chin. “Why wouldn’t he? Because I’m not elegant and accomplished? Because I have no dowry?”

“Because,” he said roughly, grabbing her by the shoulders. The soft wool of her shawl slid under his fingers. “Because I won’t let him.”

He inched toward her, closing the distance between them until the lapels of his coat grazed the bodice of her dress. He waited. She didn’t pull away. Slowly, tenderly, he slid one hand from her shoulder to her neck, tangling his fingers into her hair and cradling the back of her head. He made a small circle with his thumb, stroking the silken flesh behind her ear. She sighed somewhere deep in the back of her throat, and the sound made him weak. Her wine-stained lips parted, and her tongue darted out to moisten them.

He bent his head to hers, and her eyes widened. “Oh, don’t.”

Jeremy recoiled as if stung. He released his grip on her shoulder. His hand went slack in her hair. He pulled his head away.

Then her hands were around his neck, tugging him back down.

“Don’t let him.”

* * *

Lucy dragged his lips onto hers. Had it truly been only hours since she’d tasted them last? It felt like months. Years.

And it felt right. So right. Damn the letter and everyone else. This, this alone was right.

His lips were firm and warm on hers, but motionless. And closed. One of his hands hovered over her shoulder, the other somewhere behind her head. Lucy could feel their warmth, but not their weight. Not his touch. He was hesitating, she knew. Fighting the kiss, fighting his desire. She could feel the struggle in his chest as it rose and fell against hers.

She pulled his bottom lip into her mouth, sucking gently. He groaned somewhere deep in his chest, and the sound made her bold. She caught his lip between her teeth and nipped. Harder.

His lips parted. At last. She slid her tongue into his mouth, tasting whiskey and relief. She burrowed into his open coat and pressed her br**sts against his chest. And when his hands still hesitated, she grabbed hold of his shoulders and jumped. Hopped straight up off the floor—and never came back down, because he caught her in his arms. Just as she’d known he would.

Oh, yes. Finally. One strong arm wrapped around her waist. One hand cupping her head. His lips, moving over her mouth again and again. His tongue, caressing hers. Every inch of his hard, heated body pressed against her, supporting her weight. Heaven. It was night and dark, and his kiss was pure heaven, but Lucy didn’t see stars. She saw clouds. White, feathery clouds and blue, blue sky. Blue like his eyes. Her feet would never touch the ground again. She would float on this cloud for the rest of her life. Longer than that.

She hooked her legs around his waist. His hand slid down to cup her backside, and he pulled her tight against his groin. She still didn’t see stars. Shebecame a star, free-falling through dark desire, exploding into white-hot light and flame. He lowered her down onto the desk, his hips still locked with hers. He was kissing her neck now, running his tongue up to her ear.

Then he pulled away. He leaned over her, bracing himself on his hands. Candlelight illumined one side of his face. He looked half man, half dangerous shadow—and Lucy wanted him all.

“Touch me,” she whispered.God in heaven, touch me before I burn straight through this desk .

He winced. “Do you hear something?”

Lucy heard many things. She heard her heart hammering in her chest and her pulse thundering in her ears. She heard his ragged, panting breaths. She ground her hips against his. There. She heard a groan.

He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw. And then Lucy heard it, too. Footsteps above them. Not just a few, but many. Footsteps thundering down the stairs. The creak of the third step.

“Not again,” she said, covering her face with her hands. “This is becoming ridiculous.” She unwrapped her legs from his waist, and he stepped back. “Well?” she asked, sitting up. “What do we do?”