Chapter 7 #2
He raised a brow. “I suppose I shouldn’t expect you to know what taverns are like, though you will after tonight.”
I couldn’t bring myself to ask what he meant. He didn’t seem to need the cue. He leaned down. “Have you ever seen two people kiss, Marietta?”
“Yes.”
“What did you think?”
His eyes were a darker green, warmer than usual—not with a warmth spawned from fondness, but from the excited heat of a predator.
“It looked…perfunctory.”
“Ah. No, I meant have you ever seen two people really kiss?”
I had seen a maid and footman kiss at a house party once, when they thought no one else around. The maid had been wrapped around the footman, and he had pressed her against the wall. I thought that was most likely what Noble meant by real kissing. It had looked rather real.
“Yes.”
He smiled slowly. “Good. We’ll start with the basics.”
My mind went blank. “Basics?”
“Of kissing. Most people aren’t good at kissing right from the start.” He looked me over. “Unless you are a natural.”
I blinked stupidly.
His hand touched my cheek, gently tilting my head. “It’s like connecting puzzle pieces when you kiss. Or when you do anything else of a sexual nature.” The parts of my brain not already blank blessedly went dark. “You don’t want to purse your lips, you don’t want to keep them too slack.”
He lifted my markless wrist and turned it underside up so it hung just below his lips. His other hand slowly peeled off my glove. Contact sparked in overwhelming directions as my skin and magic immediately reached to catalog his.
“A firm gentle pressure…” His lips touched my wrist, the pulse point beating wildly beneath.
My breath caught in my throat. His magic was banked, hidden, as only the most powerful could achieve, but there was heat there, like a cauldron bubbling below.
His eyes kept a steady hold on mine, watching. “A light teasing…”
A tongue traced my pulse. Heat followed the path. What would it feel like for him to sweep across the marks on my other wrist? Sin. Pure sin.
“An all-encompassing domination.” His warm breath tickled my skin every time he spoke, and then he encased the fire with his mouth.
My head tilted back as he drew me closer and I fell under his will.
“A sweet submission.” His lips sucked gently and then released.
“Those all work well depending on the mood and heat.”
The kitchen was rather warm.
“Open your lips, Marietta.”
My mouth parted without my express permission.
“I don’t think we need to explore the perfunctory types of kisses first, do we?”
“N-No.”
“No.” He shook his head slowly, and I couldn’t look away. The same spellbound haze swept through me again, just as it had on the street. Scorching heat crawling my cheeks and a strange throb tightening down low.
His head lowered, his eyes fixed on mine. I didn’t know what to do, so I stood motionless. Lips brushed mine and a tingling sensation shot down my spine. My first kiss felt rather nice.
He repeated the motion, and I tentatively brushed my lips across his, but instead of continuing the feathery caresses, his mouth closed over mine.
An entirely different kind of sensation followed.
He had said not to stay still or limp, but also not to exert too much pressure, and I had no idea what to do.
Doing nothing felt odd, though. His hand curled around the back of my neck, urging me closer, and I followed, his lips opening mine. The motion gently rocked into a rhythm.
I opened and closed my lips with his, and it was awkward. I started to feel light-headed.
He pulled back, a single breath away, and I saw the amusement in his eyes. “Remember to breathe, Marietta.”
“How can I breathe when your lips are covering mine?”
He brushed my nose with his, an entirely inappropriate gesture, as was all of this. “Through your nose. Or take in a little air with your mouth when we separate.”
Separate? When had that happened?
“Let’s try it again.”
“I dislike you,” I blurted as his lips reached for mine again.
“I know.” His gaze said he didn’t believe my words—eyes twinkled in challenge, the darkness lurking just behind. “Put that to use in kissing me. Try to get your revenge.”
He lowered his head again. When his lips met mine, I wasn’t shocked this time—and it felt even better. More natural. I attempted breathing through my nose and wanted to kick him in the shin when his laughter ghosted against my mouth.
He hummed against my lips. “I can’t remember the last time teaching someone to kiss was this fun.”
The tremors from the words, from his mouth, vibrated against mine.
“Do you do this often?” I asked, the movement of my mouth against his suddenly making me grasp what he was trying to teach.
“No, not often,” he murmured. His lips closed around mine, and this time I followed his lead, responding in kind, warmth flowing through me like a freshly heated rune under my blankets.
I had no delusions that I was doing this kissing thing well, but it felt more natural, and he seemed to be responding.
The kiss deepened and I found my body pushing closer to his, brushing against him, seeking further contact.
All sorts of strange feelings collided. There was a coiling in my belly, as if all the butterflies which had been fluttering there had been captured in a net and secured—their wings beating furiously in one tight package.
My body was feeling languid and relaxed, where it had been taut and strung tight. My embarrassment was a haze above me, fuzzy and distant. My bare fingers itched to touch him, but only with strong will did I keep them clutched to my tavern dress. The marks on my covered wrist felt heavy and warm.
“You can touch me, Marietta,” he whispered. “But then, of course, the opposite is true as well.”
I jerked back, not breaking our contact above but separating us everywhere below.
His chuckle brushed my cheek. His hand at my nape tugged me closer, the other circling my waist and drawing me flush against him.
His mouth seared mine, the kisses shifting from languid and exploratory to demanding and sure.
Abandoning restraint, I clutched his sleeves—one glove on, one removed—as he forcefully opened my lips.
Velvet and steel. My body leaned against him for more.
His tongue slipped between my teeth and the jolt was absorbed by the bigger shock of something hard pressing against my lower body.
His tongue brushed mine and his fingers stroked my nape, urging me to respond in kind.
I tentatively pressed my tongue back against his.
It was a strange sensation and I started to feel overheated and out of sorts—the rubbing of our bodies doing strange things to all the parts of mine.
I should push away from him right now.
I held on tightly, bare and unbared fingers twisting in his sleeves.
Did all men kiss this way?
Comprehension dawned of how women lost their virtue, of how they became pregnant out of wedlock, of why it happened. Perfunctory kisses didn’t lead to that. Kisses like this—
I pulled back, breathing hard. Gabriel Noble smiled and the hand caressing my neck trailed along my throat, fingertips scorching my skin before dropping.
My hand pressed the exposed skin above my bodice, scorched and heaving. His eyes searched mine with satisfaction.
“Now we are ready to go.” He turned on his heel.
I followed him out, feeling dazed and winded.
I was, perhaps, in a lot of trouble.
~*~
The carriage pulled in front of a lavish four-story townhouse on Crescent Row.
Masked guests pranced through the arched open doors, light blazed from every window, and the steady melody of an orchestral piece ran over a deeper thump of enchanted drums.
Noble assisted me from the carriage and placed my gloved hand on top of his sleeve. The expensive fabric had been lush and strong beneath my bare fingers earlier. I was glad to have a barrier between us. I didn’t need any more stimulation from that quarter.
A man dressed in cloaked, masked black approached us as we walked through the doors. “Your brother said you were bringing a lovely guest.”
Noble smiled, cheekbones nudging up his mask. “Good evening, John. May I introduce you to my partner for the evening, Mistress Rose. John Alcroft.”
Alcroft’s shrewd gaze swung my way. “Enchanted, Mistress Rose. Long has it been since Gabriel brought a partner to one of my humble gatherings.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just echoed his greeting. I had met Lord First Alcroft before, briefly, but didn’t know much about him personally.
“I need to speak with you later,” Noble said to him.
Alcroft inclined his head. “I can slip away around eleven. Will that do?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Of course. Enjoy the evening, Gabriel, Mistress Rose. Until eleven.”
Alcroft moved to greet the next guests, and Noble guided me farther inside. The masquerade already in full swing, people were dancing and chatting in an atmosphere freer than a strict gilded gathering—yet I saw more than one person I knew, more than one person who could identify me.
Noble’s hand ran down my back. “Don’t think about them. They won’t recognize you.”
The tensed muscles in my back relaxed. I knew it was true. I hadn’t even recognized myself in the mirror. “I’ve never seen you at any gathering, yet you seem comfortable here. Do you dance?”
He smiled roguishly and held out his hand. “I do.”
He pulled me onto the dance floor, straight into the middle of an already formed set. Bad form, but he somehow seemed above the censure.
And that reason was that he could move.
There were three types of men among the gilded. The ones who were forced to dance, the ones who seemed to enjoy it and were always available to partner, and the ones who made it an art form. Gabriel Noble was definitely one of the latter.