“Not enough,” she said stubbornly. “When I was in the ballroom I was at a remove. The scene was happening around me and I was viewing it with an eye to writing it all down. But when I’m with you... it’s simply impossible to remain at a distance. When I’m with you, I feel these violent emotions and there’s no way I could stay at a remove from you. You have to be experienced. You make me so angry and you make me want... I don’t know how to explain what I want.”
He knew how to explain it. The flush on her cheeks. The light, questing brush of her fingers on his bicep. Patrick had been right. She was attracted to him.
Despite his scars, despite the cold way he treated her. He tried to be glacial because he needed to keep her at arm’s length. There was an undeniable pull between them he felt too, and now it had been confirmed.
“You want to kiss me, I know you do.” She leaned against his chest, her soft breasts brushing against him. “Do it...”
“I can’t. We can’t.” Let her tease him, let her test her power, let her provoke him. He’d never succumb. Never lose control.
She lifted her lips again, brushing them against his.
Something broke, some tenuous thread of decency that had been holding him back. And then, suddenly, his iron control shattered. He took her into his arms, crushed her against him, heldher hands behind her back and kissed her. Hard. Not a gentlemanly peck on her rosy lips. He kissed her with intent to thrill. To seduce.
She’d slipped beneath his barriers and he had to taste her. He lowered his lips to hers, taking her into his arms in a fierce embrace. He wasn’t thinking anymore, or holding back. He crushed her lips to his and slipped his tongue inside. She tasted sweeter than spun sugar, sweeter than any dessert he’d ever had.
She moaned softly, surrendering to him, throwing her head back to give him better access to her lips. He slipped one hand behind her neck, closing his fingers around her slim neck. The other hand roamed inside her bodice, cupping the silken skin of one breast.
“Oh, that feels good,” she whispered, her eyes widening as she glanced down at his huge hand covering her breast.
He resumed the kiss, deeper now, claiming her, giving her a kiss to write about, to dream about.
“Warburton?” The voice, female, piercing, intruded in some dim region of his brain that still had the capacity to translate words into sentences.
He stopped the kiss. Fuck. Someone had entered the library. Aunt Glynis, and a strange man.
They were well and truly caught.
Chapter Seventeen
As she slid down the dragon’s back, she felt the rumble of his voice. “I have given you what you desire, Amsonia. I am taking you home. But steel yourself for what awaits! I have seen the Evil that has taken root. You will find things much changed.”
—The Dragon and the Blue Starby Analise Crewe
Dex pulled back. Ana stood there all dewy-eyed, rosy cheeked, her lips stained red, bodice askew, breasts heaving.
Cursing inwardly, he turned to face the intruders, shielding Ana from their view. “Aunt Glynis.”
Was it too late to say she’d had some dust in her eye? He’d lost control. He should have been stronger.
“Warburton.” His aunt nodded coldly. “This is Mr. Norwood. He and I have been having rather an interesting conversation about Miss Crewe. And now we find you here engaged in what can only be described as—”
“Research!” Ana interjected. “Research for my Clovercote novel. I wasn’t able to complete the scene when Falconer steals a kiss from Adora and so I asked the duke to help me fill in somedetails. I’m absolutely safe because he’s my guardian and would never actually importune me or—”
“I kissed her,” Dex said bluntly. There was no bending the truth or fabricating a new reality.
“No, you didn’t,” Ana insisted, desperately attempting to salvage the situation. “You weren’t really kissing me. You were pretending to be the villainous Falconer and I was pretending to be innocent Adora and it was all in the name of research.”
Aunt Glynis snorted, nostrils flaring with disapproval. “Mr. Norwood informed me that Miss Crewe was found living in a disreputable boarding house and that she is purported to have a fiancé. Is this true, Miss Crewe?”
The look on Ana’s face was nearly comical. He could see the gears whirring in that sharp mind of hers, searching for an explanation, a fantastical story to explain this infernal tangle. She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off.
“Indeed, Aunt. I rescued her from an unfortunate choice of lodgings.” He took a swift breath to gird himself for what was to come. “And she does have a fiancé. Me.”
“You?” Ana, Aunt Glynis, and Mr. Norwood spoke in unison, gawping at him.
He took Ana’s hand and addressed her tenderly. “We don’t have to maintain the charade anymore, darling. We can tell the world we’re engaged to be married.”
Ana’s jaw dropped. “Darling?”