The Irresistible Rogue (Playful Brides #4)(21)

It finally struck her. He didn’t want her to kiss him. He merely wanted to call her bluff. But he was going to be quite surprised. She wasn’t about to back down from this challenge, however harrowing it may be.

And there was another part of her, a part that had a thrill shooting through it right now. She’d imagined kissing this man a hundred different ways over the last year. Had lain in her bed fevered by the thought. And now, now, she was getting the chance. It didn’t change the fact that he didn’t care a fig for her and they were going to get an annulment. But it severely tempted her to have at least one of her old dreams come true.

“Scared?” he taunted.

“Never.” She lifted her chin.

“I thought you were too perfect and pure to do anything half as scandalous as kissing one man during your would-be engagement party to another.”

“Is that why you’re testing me?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Perhaps. Partly.”

She clamped her hand into a fist, itching to slap his handsome face with it. “Would someone so pristine and pure have paraded around as a cabin boy for a fortnight?”

“Ah, but you yourself told me that you’ve changed. You’re no longer that adventurous young lady. Or do I have it wrong?”

A memorable kiss?

She’d make it memorable all right.

Closing her eyes until they were half hooded, she invoked the most sensual pose she could muster and sauntered toward him with swinging hips. She stared him straight in the eye, completely unwilling to let him see a moment’s hesitation. The man had made a grievous mistake asking her if she was scared. She was a Swift. Swifts didn’t back down from challenges. Swifts stood their ground.

The look in Rafe’s blue eyes turned from amusement to surprise in a matter of seconds as she advanced on him. She wasn’t about to demurely lean down and peck him on the lips. No. She was going to make this memorable. The fact that she’d neither been kissed nor kissed anyone before was hardly the point. She’d heard enough in snippets of conversations from the married ladies through the years to have a general, if vague, idea of how one should go about it. Once she’d accidentally interrupted one of the footmen kissing one of the housemaids in the kitchens. She hadn’t told a soul, but it had certainly been an informative experience for her. They’d had their mouths open! So Daphne wasn’t completely uneducated. The rest she would just make up as she went. It couldn’t possibly be that difficult.

She made her way to the edge of the settee, then stopped. Hmm. Where should she sit? How would they go about this? She decided to truly shock him by sitting on her side directly next to him, facing toward him, her legs out to the right. She positioned her skirts to make it work and sidled up next to him.

Rafe arched both brows. Then she lifted up on both knees and placed her hands on either side of his shoulders. Her fingers trembled and she silently cursed herself for it. She pressed her fingertips into his shoulders to keep them from trembling. Oh, but touching him had been a mistake. The man’s shoulders were pure muscle. Strong, and square, and … The scent of him so near made her mouth water. Perhaps that was why open mouths were involved in some forms of kissing.

He’d crossed his arms over his chest and regarded her with a bit of nonchalance. She mentally vowed to wipe that look from his handsome face.

He’d not make this easy for her, indeed. Well, she wouldn’t make it easy for him.

Rising up higher on her knees, she towered above him. He lifted his chin to meet her eyes but his arms remained tight across his chest.

She slowly lowered herself, hooding her eyes more and more as she got closer to his mouth. And what a mouth it was. His lips were firm, but perfectly shaped. They were closed, but puckered slightly at the corners. As she moved closer, she heard the sharp intake of his breath. That was it. The one moment. The only moment she knew that she’d got to him, affected him.

Her mouth hovered a scant inch above his. “Memorable, you say?”

“If you can manage it.” Blast. His voice had been strong, sure, slightly mocking.

“Oh, I can manage,” she breathed, just before her lips met his.

His lips were warm and dry. But his mouth wasn’t open. Nothing happened. No great passion. No insane lust like what she’d seen between the footman and the maid. She pulled back and stared at Rafe quizzically. He shrugged.

She nearly laughed aloud. All these months she’d fancied herself in love with him. Thought she wanted him. But there was no passion between them at all. None. That kiss was going to be memorable all right. Memorable for being bad.

“Is that the best you can do?” he mocked.

Daphne frowned at him. How dare he? Clearly, the man didn’t understand that there were no inherent sparks between them. How did he expect her to make up for that? But the competitive side of her nature whispered in her ear and she scrunched up her nose. “No,” she replied, merely to be contrary.

She might as well humor the poor man and give him one more sad little kiss just to say she tried.

She leaned back down and pressed her lips to his again. There was a bit of friction this time, a pop, a spark. Her eyes widened in surprise and she wrapped an arm around his neck to steady herself.

The moment she did, Rafe’s mouth opened and slanted across hers. His hot, wet tongue plunged inside of her mouth and she whimpered. He growled. His lips were no longer warm and dry. They owned her. With another growl, he shifted her body in his lap with ease and she was lying across his thighs, her arms clutching his strong neck.