Chapter 12 #2
He had no right to do it—no right to touch her at all, but she was so close, her sweet red mouth just a breath away from his and her eyes wide, invitation in those blue-gray depths.
So lovely, her eyes, like a winter sky before the morning haze melted away.
He wanted to fall into them and stay there forever.
He’d been waiting a lifetime to kiss her, hadn’t he?
An entire lifetime…
He clasped her face in his hands and touched the tip of his thumb to the seam of her lips, gently parting them. “Your mouth is so sweet, Helena.”
“I…is it?” She let out a shaky laugh, but she made no move to pull away, just looked up at him with eyes gone a deep, sleepy gray.
“Yes. So pretty, love.”
Could she read the desire in his eyes? She was na?ve, an innocent…
A kiss, then. Only a kiss.
He let his lips hover over hers for one breath, two, giving her a chance to pull away, but she only gazed up at him, her eyes soft.
Just like that, he was lost.
He leaned closer, and brushed the gentlest kiss over her parted lips.
She went still, as if stunned by the kiss, but then she let out a breathy sigh, and her hands drifted over his chest. He stiffened for an instant, certain she was going to push him away, but she only rested them there, her palms flat against his chest, warming him.
“Let me…I need to taste you here.” He drew back, groaning when her mouth chased his, and brushed his lips over the soft skin behind her ear, his breath leaving his lungs in a hoarse rasp when he felt her pulse flutter wildly against his tongue.
She stroked her fingers over his jaw, tracing the angles of it, a little sound of pleasure dropping from her lips. “Oh, that feels…it tickles.”
She urged his mouth back to hers, her tongue meeting his in a single shy stroke—such an innocent caress, yet her eagerness had him breathless and panting as he searched for more of her silken warmth, a pained groan on his lips.
She made a low, needy sound in her throat and opened her mouth against his, chasing his tongue, coaxing it inside and…
Dear God. She was sucking on his tongue.
Everything dropped away then—the work table, the tangled branches, the white ribbons. There was only her, her slender body trembling against his, her mouth warm and eager.
He kissed her and kissed her, his tongue plundering the depths of her mouth, his body aching with a desire he’d thought lost to him forever. “So sweet, Helena. You’re so sweet.”
She shivered against him, squirming closer with every stroke of his tongue. Her breath tickled his ear, her hands moving restlessly over his chest. Such small, dainty hands, but so warm, her touch the most exquisite heat, searing him.
He slid his hands into her hair, hairpins scattering in the wake of his seeking fingers, the heavy locks tumbling to her shoulders.
He cupped her neck, desire overwhelming him at the sensation of her warm skin against his palms. God, he couldn’t get enough of her neck, couldn’t tear his gaze away from it, couldn’t keep his hands off that hint of creamy skin above the high collar of her gown that had so transfixed him at the church this morning.
“I want to kiss you here.” No, he wanted to start there, and then keep going until he’d tasted every inch of her. “May I, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” Her voice was low, breathy, without a hint of hesitation.
His fingertips danced up her spine to the buttons at the neck of her gown, teasing them open so he could stroke that delicate skin, lave it with his tongue. Would it be as soft as it looked, sliding like silk against his lips? He had to find out, had to know…
He dipped his head so he could trail his lips down her neck, sucking and nibbling, then soothing the sting with gentle strokes of the tip of his tongue.
“Adrian.” She sank her fingers into his hair, tugging him closer.
“Do you need more, sweetheart?” He stroked his tongue over the pulse point at the base of her neck. “Do you want more, Helena?”
She made a strangled sound, something between a sigh and a gasp, and he swept his fingers over her throat to feel the movement, then leaned closer and brushed his lips over the curve where her neck met her shoulder, and God, it was sweet, her skin softer than anything he’d ever touched, a faint scent of fresh greenery clinging to her, the scent surrounding him, teasing his senses until he was drunk with it, every inch of him aching for her, his reason fleeing in the face of a desire that sent him to his knees.
It was meant to be a kiss only, just one kiss…
But he couldn’t make himself let her go.
Instead of setting her away from him as he should have done, he wrapped his hands around her slender waist, his fingers curling into the delicious curve of her hips.
“Come here, sweetheart, let me…” He urged her to her feet and pressed her back against the table, one hand sliding up her spine and into the open neck of her gown.
“Adrian.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to the hollow of his throat, sucking a fold of his skin between her teeth and nipping at him.
“Ah.” He shuddered, his head swimming with need, and pressed her closer, his body crushed to hers. He could feel the shape of her thighs and her breasts, and God, she felt so good, her soft curves such a perfect fit against him, her belly cradling his aching cock.
“Adrian,” she moaned. “Please.”
Then he was whispering to her, jumbled words of need and desire, his mouth hot against her ear and his hands on her hips, mere seconds away from forgetting himself entirely and lifting her onto the table, his hand fisted in her skirts, and God knew what might have happened if his elbow hadn’t hit the basket, and sent it toppling to the floor, white ribbons spilling from the top of it.
He blinked, dazed, then tore his mouth from hers with a defeated groan.
This was madness. She wasn’t some London courtesan, but his sons’ governess, and an innocent.
“This isn’t…we can’t…” He leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers and tried to catch his breath.
“You need to go upstairs now, sweetheart.”
For a moment she seemed not to understand, her fingers curling in his shirt as she gazed up at him, her touch stealing every breath he’d struggled for, but as the silent moments ticked by, the haze of her desire dissipated, and he saw the exact instant when she realized where she was, what they’d done.
Her hands dropped away from him. “Oh, dear. Yes, I—I think that would be best.”
It took everything in him not to snatch her back into his arms, but he settled for brushing a chaste kiss on her forehead.
Mostly chaste. For now, that is.
This wouldn’t be the last time he kissed Helena Templeton. “Goodnight, Helena.”
She peeked up at him from under her eyelashes, her cheeks pink. “Goodnight, Lord Hawke.”
“Adrian.” Touching her again was dangerous, but he caught one of her loose curls and twined it around his finger before releasing her and stepping back, away from those temptingly swollen red lips. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”