Scoop her up and lay her down on a bed of herbs. Cover her small body with his, wrap a hand around the back of her neck and feast upon her like a starving beast.
He couldn’t kiss her. Wouldn’t do it. But that didn’t stop his imagination from running wild.
Slip his hand inside her bodice, cup her breast, and brush his thumb across her nipple until she moaned and arched her back.
Scents of lavender and rosemary in the air. His palms cradling that lushly rounded bum. Lifting her hips to meet him. Taking what she so freely offered.
Soft lips and sweet tongue tangling with his. Dip his head into the silk of her hair, kiss herneck, her shoulders. Tease her nipples with his tongue.
Make her come first with his tongue and then ride her to pleasure again. Lose himself in her.
Christ, you’re a beast.
She’s a good girl, innocent and trusting. If she wants you to kiss her, it’s only because she thinks you’re ordinary, honorable Mr. Smith.
He was a bad, dangerous rake. The kind of man that a girl like her should run from, should hide from.
She clasped her hands around his neck. “Kiss me, Danny,” she whispered huskily.
Damn it all. Everything in him wanted to obey that command. Give her a first kiss and so much more.
The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. He couldn’t help drifting nearer to those full, glistening lips. And she drifted closer at the same time.
Their lips touched, just a brush, the softest caress. He held still, steeling himself for what he must do. Pull away, leave her in the garden, leave Squalton.
And then she kissed him. He should have expected her to do something impulsive. After all, when he’d met her she’d been swimming in the sea all alone in nothing but her shift. Of course she dove into this kiss, wanting to rebel against her mother’s control, wanting him to save her from that pious vicar.
She kissed him passionately, crushingly, and very, very inexpertly. He couldn’t allow her togo away thinking that this was all there was to kissing, this mashing together of lips that she seemed so very intent upon.
He shifted his head back a little and wound his hand around her neck, taking control of the kiss. He was a bad, dangerous rake.
This was what he did best.
And this wasn’t merely any embrace. He was kissing the luscious Miss Sandrine Oliver. He knew the shape of her breasts, the curves of her body. He’d been dreaming of her every night, fighting this longing. She tasted sweeter than sugar, and her skin smelled of lavender.
She melted against him and shifted her thighs, causing his hand to slide higher, dangerously close to where he was dying to explore. Careful, now. All he was doing was showing her a proper kiss. There would be no exploring beyond that.
As his lips teased hers, she crushed her soft breasts against his chest, and her thighs slipped open. Cock stiff and heart racing, he kept himself firmly under control, lifting his hand from her thigh and limiting their contact to lips only.
And tongue. Just the taste. Exploring the seam of her lips and slipping inside her mouth. She gasped, and her eyes flew open, but she didn’t break the kiss. Oh no, not the newly brave Miss Oliver. She met his tongue with hers, and soon what had started as a soft, gentle kiss became deep and driving. Everything he gave, she demanded more. He could lose all his scruples in a kiss like this.
He could stay here and be Danny Smith forever.Turn his back on the life he’d known. Give up the dissolute pleasures and replace them with worthier ones. Quit his friends, the Thunderbolt Club, the family that never made him feel welcome. Pretend to be someone else long enough that it became true.
Stay in Squalton and kiss Sandrine Oliver forever.
Impossible. He was here under false pretenses. She’d soon discover that he’d deceived her. He was going to sell her beloved manor house at the first decent offer, and she’d hate him for it.
All of this was wrong, so very wrong. He broke the kiss, gently removed her hands from his neck, and stumbled to his feet. “I must go, Miss Oliver. I shouldn’t be here.”
“What’s the matter?”
Dane avoided the questions in her eyes, the confusion on her face. “I just remembered an appointment at the taproom.”
“Then, I’ll see you on Sunday?” An enticing smile. “You’re meeting me at Mrs. McGovern’s cottage, remember? We’re going to have a promenade. And perhaps you’ll even meet my mother.”
He mumbled something about looking forward to it, handed her the basket of herbs he’d collected, and backed away. Even though he longed to stay and lay her down on the sun-warmed grass. Kiss her until she moaned his name.
Hisrealname. He wanted her to say his name with gladness when he did something to make her smile. Breathe it huskily as he pleasured her.