Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)(37)

Chapter Nine

Lily knew all about Julian Bellamy. He was a profligate seducer, an infamous rake, a devil-may-care scoundrel.

Who could have guessed the man would be so difficult to kiss?

First that disastrous lip-lock in the early morning yesterday, then their interrupted embrace at Morland House … Lily was hoping the third time would prove the charm. All morning, she’d been waiting for him to make the advance. She’d all but begged him to dance with her. She’d nudged the conversation down suggestive paths.

Finally, she’d decided to take matters into her own hands. And she’d juggled those matters clumsily, nearly dashing them to bits on the floor. But none of it mattered now. Because now his arm was around her, holding her fast, and his strong hand cupped the back of her neck. She’d just read that thrilling “no” on his sensuous lips, and his eyes were full of affirmation. He wanted her, that intense blue gaze said. And this time, he meant to have her.

His lips met hers, and her eyes fluttered closed.

Yes, the third time was a charm.

The third time was pure magic.

He kissed her firmly, then softly. A bit too chastely for her preference. Lily felt herself growing impatient for more. But he refused to hurry, wouldn’t heed the plaintive whimpers tickling the back of her throat.

No, he took the kiss slowly, leading the way with tender, masterful care. Sipping first at her lower lip, then the upper. Teasing the corner of her mouth with his tongue, until her lips parted to release a sigh of pure delight.

His tongue slid inside her mouth, and she welcomed the gentle invasion. At first she tried to hold still, as it only seemed the hospitable thing. She’d invited him in, and the least she could do was facilitate his exploration. But as his tongue rubbed hers again and again, she found herself moving helplessly against him. Snaking her arms around his neck, nestling closer into his embrace.

Lily didn’t have a great deal of experience to judge by, but from where she was standing … he was very, very good at this.

There was spice and a hint of sweetness in his kiss, and she curled one hand into his hair, drawing him close so she could savor it. How was it possible she could know a man so well, but only now be learning his taste? He thrust his tongue deeper, and she closed her lips around it, suckling lightly.

He groaned. She felt the sound rumbling from his chest. The low vibration played her ribs like piano keys, and the tune was a slow, sensual burlesque. They were dancing to it, the two of them, moving mouths and hips in a steady rhythm.

Her whole body sparked and snapped with sensation. Another lady might have thought to herself, I can’t wait to tell my friends how wonderful this is. But instead Lily thought to herself, I can’t wait to tell Julian how wonderful this is. She almost laughed at the irony. But she didn’t dare let him in on her joke or pay him any pride-swelling compliments just yet. She was too afraid of breaking the spell, because …

Oh, because.

His hand had begun a slow, steady descent from the small of her back, down the curve of her hip, all the way to the bottom of her … well, of her bottom. He palmed one cheek of her backside and squeezed, lifting her up on her toes and pulling her flush against him. Taking the kiss to a whole new level.

His chest was hard; his abdomen, flat. She loved pressing against him, feeling her pliant, feminine contours mold around his solid male physique. And, wedged against her soft belly, the stiff ridge of his manhood made quite the impression. His obvious arousal only inflamed her own desire. Her ni**les puckered to tight darts, jutting against the restrictive confines of her bodice. She imagined how they must look—red, puckered nubs standing out, desperate for attention. His attention. Because he would understand just how to soothe them.

As he claimed her mouth over and over, she writhed in his arms, trying to ease the ache in her br**sts. The friction only stoked a different flame of need. One that burned deeper, darker. Distinctly lower, down between her legs.

This … this was true desire. This was animal lust.

This was never going to end. Not if Lily could help it.

She might be inexperienced, but she was hardly a ninny or a prude. She understood the sensation of arousal. She’d felt, many times, physical attraction to a man. But never before had she found herself in this kind of situation, where proximity and possibility worked their strange alchemy, transforming vague desire into urgent, undeniable need.

Her breathing, her hunger, even the beating of her heart … her every primal instinct centered on one goal. And Lily clung to it—to him—with both hands.

Until he let her go. Lifted his mouth from hers and released her with no warning whatsoever.

She swayed, unsteady on her feet. He grasped her by the shoulders and braced her with outstretched arms, holding her up. But also holding her away. Stunned, she blinked hard at his cravat, gasping for breath.

He dipped his head to catch her attention. “Lily …” His gaze was steeped with regret. “Lily, I’m—”

“Don’t.” She closed her eyes in defiance. At her sides, she clenched her hands in fists. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry. I’m not sorry. I could never regret what just happened between us. It was wonderful, Julian. I haven’t felt so alive in months. Years. And if you mean to apologize for it … to give me some nonsense about liking me too much to spare me the attentions you’ve lavished on half the female population of the ton …” She sniffed. “Please, just don’t.”