A chair scuffed against the wood floor, jarring her out of her fantasy and back to the book in front of her.
She slammed the book closed and reached for another one, flipping it open. After scanning a few pages and reading only more of the same, her eyes lit on an illustration.
“Mr. Grey, look at this.”
He leaned over and glanced at the image.
Her cheeks flamed as she realized what she had just shown him. A drawing of a nude woman reclining with nothing but a scrap of fabric draped over the apex be- tween her thighs. Her breasts, however, were quite bare, the nipples pronounced. One hand was placed on a vase, and dangling from her wrist were four small bracelets.
“It says here”—she cleared her throat—“the gods wanted to curse her for her beauty ”
Heat from his body engulfed her as he rose to stand behind her chair. He’d bent forward, placing his head a mere breath away from her own. She stopped reading and swallowed.
“Continue,” he said, his deep voice caressing the wisps of hair that dangled around her face.
“Can you not see the text yourself?” she asked, her voice airy.
His breath whispered against her ear. She met his gaze and nearly forgot her name or where she was. This close, she could see gold flecks swimming in the brown depths of his eyes. Her mouth went dry. A sensual smile curved his lips, and he looked as if he was prepared to devour her. Not in a lecherous fashion, but rather in a way she instinctively knew would be incredibly pleasurable. She wiped her palms against her skirt.
Without a second thought she leaned in and pressed her lips against his. With a gasp she pulled away, appalled at her behavior. After sitting back she eyed his reaction. He said nothing, merely gazed at her with silent amusement. Which, frankly, was rather annoying.
“Miss Worthington, if you’re going to kiss me, you must do so with more passion than that. It is lust you have on your wrist, is it not?”
She looked down at the gold band, then back at him.
He smiled.
She frowned.
Then he placed one hand beneath her chin and nudged her forward. She kept her eyes open and watched as he leaned toward her; she didn’t want to miss anything. But once his soft lips feathered across hers, she lost herself in the sensation, and her eyes fluttered closed.
Absently, she realized that his other hand had found its way to the back of her neck and was kneading the flesh there. But his mouth demanded most of her attention as it moved elegantly, seductively across her own.
This was kissing.
There was no time to consider how much of a fool he must have thought her with her schoolyard kiss. There was only pleasure. Radiating from her lips and sliding over every inch of her flesh like the lushest of silks.
His tongue ran across her bottom lip, and she gripped the arms of the chair to keep from sinking to the floor. Infinitely better than her imaginings, his lips teased and coaxed her own. Gracious, but this man knew how to kiss. Then, as quickly as it had started, the kiss ended.
She opened her eyes and undoubtedly gave him a wistful smile. “Well, you certainly are much better at that than I am,” she said.
He cleared his throat. “I suspect you could catch on rather quickly,” he said, his voice tense.
For a moment neither said anything, then without warning, Fielding fell back into his chair and pointed at the book she’d been studying. “Does it say anything about the bracelets or a curse?”
Esme glanced back at the book and skimmed the pages surrounding the drawing of the woman. She shook her head. “It doesn’t even mention the bracelets, other than to say they are part of yet another theory surrounding Pandora’s box.” With one fluid motion, she rose to her feet. “I’m going to check and see how my aunt is fairing with the packing.”
The truth of the matter was, she needed some space. Some distance from the increasingly attractive Mr. Grey. Resisting him had been hard enough before she’d known his skill at kissing.
The hall outside her study was quiet as she made her way up the stairs. Why had he kissed her? Well, why wouldn’t he when she’d practically crawled into his lap? Perhaps willing women were more difficult to come by than one might think.
But oh, that kiss. The memory of his warm lips on hers sent gooseflesh popping up all over her body. Fielding Grey was a man of the world. He was an experienced lover. She could tell by his expert kissing. True, she had no means of comparison, but still, a woman could tell when a kiss would have curled the toes of a seasoned mistress.
She knew one thing for certain, she would kiss Fielding again. And for a bit longer. There was something in the way he’d moved his tongue against her bottom lip that promised more. She desperately wanted to know what that more was. And she couldn’t help it. Not really. The curse was far too strong and Mr. Grey far too tempting.
Besides, kissing was harmless. And in any case, she was a woman without a name, without any prospects for marriage. She’d given up that opportunity years ago.
So there was no need for great concern regarding her reputation. She only hoped this blessed curse would stop before she ruined herself all together.