Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(16)

“You’ve certainly never looked at me with lascivious intent. You look at my brothers with as much interest as you look at me.”

“Lascivious intent.” The sound of laughter again leached into his voice. “You are a strange girl, Bliss. You are lucky that I like the unusual. And I certainly don’t wish to kiss your brothers, or any boys for that matter.”

“I don’t feel lucky.” That sounded far too much like a pout. Why could she never hold firm about him? “And, of course, you don’t want to kiss boys. What man would? You just don’t want to kiss me either.”

“Are you sure? I believe I’ve rather frequently thought of kissing you—among other things.” He leaned forward, filling the space between them he had moments ago allowed to open.

His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips.

Bliss swallowed, her own eyes dropping to Duldon’s lips, seemingly thin and hard, but could they also be soft? She forced her glance back to his eyes, staring into the dark depths. She knew where this was going, knew she did not want it to go there, and yet she could not hold back her words. “And why should I believe you? A man can say anything.”



“You do like to play with fire, don’t you, little one?” He leaned farther and she could feel his breath upon her mouth. She should turn her face, turn away, but all she could do was stare at him, watch him stare at her, at her mouth. Was she breathing? She couldn’t tell.

“I…” She couldn’t think. She couldn’t talk. Had she moved forward, and were her lips pressing against his, soft and close-mouthed? It was only the slightest of touches, the briefest brush of skin on skin. His lips were soft. How could they be hard and soft at the same time? She started to pull back, confused by her own actions—and by the shimmer of feeling that began to sweep through her.

“I hope you don’t think that was a kiss? If you think that is a kiss, you’ve never done it right.” This time he moved forward, bending his head slightly to the side as he held her chin firm. His lips pressed hers in a motion not so different from her own of the moment before, and yet there was a world of difference. Her briefest of kisses had been tentative, light, questioning. His was none of those things. His lips started gentle, but second by second the pressure and heat increased. His fingers moved from her chin to the back of her head, cupping her against him.

She’d been kissed before. She had. Or had she? Nothing had prepared her for the fire that could grow on her lips and in her belly at the same time. Nothing had prepared her for the intensity, for the desire to flee and yet to continue forever.

Without thought she pressed her whole body forward, taking the half step to cover the brief space that separated them. His free hand wrapped about her waist in reward, the long fingers delicious as they stroked her through her gown.



A soft moan escaped her mouth, her lips full and swollen beneath his.

As the sound escaped, his tongue swept forward lightly, tickling along the seam of her lips, playing over the swollen spot she’d previously bitten.

That felt good. She would not have expected it to, but there was no denying the pleasure. Curious, she opened her mouth a little. His tongue continued to stroke across her lips, but each time moved a little deeper. She opened more. He swept in, invading but welcome.

He stroked her inner lip, the roof of her mouth, the tender line where gum met tooth.

It should have been disgusting. It really should have. Who would ever want somebody else’s tongue within their mouth? It was quite a horrifying thought—and yet…

For a moment she let herself consider the sensations, analyzing the feelings, but then bit by bit by bit, the sensations won. Her mind quit working, the fog of wonder growing, and the feel of Duldon overtaking all. She pressed herself tighter against him, her breasts swelling with need and want, aching to be free, yet aching also for more pressure, more…God, she didn’t know what, but she wanted it, needed it. It was impossible to imagine not having it, not having that more.

As if sensing her need, one of his hands crept up between them, his fingers cupping her breast and squeezing softly. Nothing she could remember had ever been so wonderful—and yet it left her so unsatisfied, so wanting. She tried to press tighter, but it was impossible. Moaning against his mouth, she let her own tongue come into play, exploring, seeking, wanting—always wanting. Was there no end to the want that he made rise within her?



Long fingers moved over her breast, playing at the lace edging of her bodice, before slipping in. His fingers found one turgid nipple and squeezed hard, the slightest twist, the further abrasion of tender flesh against the lace border.

God. She felt the tightness in her belly grow; she pressed her legs together, trying to hold it in and yet release it. It tightened and tightened, her whole being caught in lips and breast and—and lower. Something. Something.

He squeezed tighter. A bolt of electricity filled her.

Her eyes closed and she could not think beyond that tightness, that…

He twisted once more, focusing her entire being on that one small piece of flesh. It hurt. It was wonderful. And it grew. It grew and tightened. All the emotions and sensations that she’d felt earlier filled her again; she pressed her legs firm, trying to sooth the ache that grew and grew.

He pinched again. Sensation shot from her nipple to between her legs, an open channel of sensation twisting her tighter and tighter. She moaned again, her whole body filled with need and want.