the change of topic. "No. Of course not."
"Then why does she look at you as if she wants to he devoured?"
He shook his head. "Perhaps because I've refused to take a bite?"
She crossed her arms and glared at him. "I don't believe you."
"Marissa." His brain finally caught up to the topic, and Jude registered a shocking fact. Marissa York was jealous. Over him. "I have never so much as kissed Patience Wellingsly."
"Well then, that puts me a full minute ahead of her in your distribution of intimacy. A comforting lead."
He didn't point out that she was jealous. She'd only deny it. But there was one thing she might not deny. "Are you complaining about a lack of kisses, Miss York?"
"Well, what is the point of being betrothed if one can't even enjoy kisses? I was kissed more often before!"
"Were you? By whom?"
Her chin inched up. "Men."
"Are you sure?"
"Why do you keep saying that? What is this great divide in your mind that sets men apart from boys?"
This time when he stepped toward her, Marissa stepped away. Then she seemed to realize what she'd done and stood her ground, shoulders back and chin high. And when he kissed her, she leaned into him, lingers spreading open on his chest.
He didn't lease her this time, but kissed her fully. She tasted of sweet, hot tea, and she was soft. Very soft. The layers of thin fabric did nothing to conceal the feel of her curves when his hands touched her hips. She wore no corset. She wore practically nothing at all.
When she sighed into his mouth and pressed her entire body more firmly against his, Jude groaned and told himself to set her away. Instead he shifted her toward her bed. A natural instinct. An awful idea. But he was all instinct now, as her tongue stroked his in eager hunger.
Her passion had stolen his willpower away. Her hands eased beneath his coat and snuck over his chest. Her knee rubbed restless between his. Her soft noises seemed to wind around him and squeeze till he couldn't breathe.
He eased her toward the bed until her legs touched the mattress, then laid her slowly onto the goose down. "If I were a boy, I'd probably slide my hand beneath your neckline right now."
Her eyes popped open. "Oh!"
"I'd caress your breasts until I felt enough time had passed, and then I'd pull your dress up in bunches until you were sufficiently exposed. Does that sound familiar?"
She stared, wide-eyed, at him, her breath rushing past her lips.
"Then I'd rub your sex until it was slick enough for penetration. No more than that, mind you, because if I were a boy, my only goal would be mounting you."
"I see," she whispered.
"But I'm a man, Marissa, so I'll do this instead. ..." Lying on his side, Jude made sure to keep his weight off her body as he kissed her again. Naturally passionate as she was—or perhaps just naturally impatient—Marissa slid her hands behind his neck and pulled him closer. He smiled against her mouth and murmured his pleasure, but he did not touch her. He only kissed, exploring her mouth, discovering what she liked and what she didn't, memorizing the texture of her tongue against his.
When she shifted restlessly beneath him, Jude finally broke the kiss and dragged his mouth down her neck. He sucked at her neck and nibbled her shoulder and kissed his way down her breastbone, his cock aching more with every taste. Her encouraging whimpers drove him wild. He wanted her making those sounds while she took him inside her. Wanted her begging him to give her more.
Jude took a deep breath and made himself calm. He wouldn't take her. Not until they were married. But he meant to show her, at least, that there was more to a man than dancing and tight trousers.
So he drew gently at the skin just above the ruffled neckline of her gown. Her belly sucked in, and her breasts pushed up. The delicate fabric showed the clear outline of her pebbled nipples, pushing against the silk. Jude stifled a groan.
She was a slim woman and her breasts were small, but by god, they
"Then why does she look at you as if she wants to he devoured?"
He shook his head. "Perhaps because I've refused to take a bite?"
She crossed her arms and glared at him. "I don't believe you."
"Marissa." His brain finally caught up to the topic, and Jude registered a shocking fact. Marissa York was jealous. Over him. "I have never so much as kissed Patience Wellingsly."
"Well then, that puts me a full minute ahead of her in your distribution of intimacy. A comforting lead."
He didn't point out that she was jealous. She'd only deny it. But there was one thing she might not deny. "Are you complaining about a lack of kisses, Miss York?"
"Well, what is the point of being betrothed if one can't even enjoy kisses? I was kissed more often before!"
"Were you? By whom?"
Her chin inched up. "Men."
"Are you sure?"
"Why do you keep saying that? What is this great divide in your mind that sets men apart from boys?"
This time when he stepped toward her, Marissa stepped away. Then she seemed to realize what she'd done and stood her ground, shoulders back and chin high. And when he kissed her, she leaned into him, lingers spreading open on his chest.
He didn't lease her this time, but kissed her fully. She tasted of sweet, hot tea, and she was soft. Very soft. The layers of thin fabric did nothing to conceal the feel of her curves when his hands touched her hips. She wore no corset. She wore practically nothing at all.
When she sighed into his mouth and pressed her entire body more firmly against his, Jude groaned and told himself to set her away. Instead he shifted her toward her bed. A natural instinct. An awful idea. But he was all instinct now, as her tongue stroked his in eager hunger.
Her passion had stolen his willpower away. Her hands eased beneath his coat and snuck over his chest. Her knee rubbed restless between his. Her soft noises seemed to wind around him and squeeze till he couldn't breathe.
He eased her toward the bed until her legs touched the mattress, then laid her slowly onto the goose down. "If I were a boy, I'd probably slide my hand beneath your neckline right now."
Her eyes popped open. "Oh!"
"I'd caress your breasts until I felt enough time had passed, and then I'd pull your dress up in bunches until you were sufficiently exposed. Does that sound familiar?"
She stared, wide-eyed, at him, her breath rushing past her lips.
"Then I'd rub your sex until it was slick enough for penetration. No more than that, mind you, because if I were a boy, my only goal would be mounting you."
"I see," she whispered.
"But I'm a man, Marissa, so I'll do this instead. ..." Lying on his side, Jude made sure to keep his weight off her body as he kissed her again. Naturally passionate as she was—or perhaps just naturally impatient—Marissa slid her hands behind his neck and pulled him closer. He smiled against her mouth and murmured his pleasure, but he did not touch her. He only kissed, exploring her mouth, discovering what she liked and what she didn't, memorizing the texture of her tongue against his.
When she shifted restlessly beneath him, Jude finally broke the kiss and dragged his mouth down her neck. He sucked at her neck and nibbled her shoulder and kissed his way down her breastbone, his cock aching more with every taste. Her encouraging whimpers drove him wild. He wanted her making those sounds while she took him inside her. Wanted her begging him to give her more.
Jude took a deep breath and made himself calm. He wouldn't take her. Not until they were married. But he meant to show her, at least, that there was more to a man than dancing and tight trousers.
So he drew gently at the skin just above the ruffled neckline of her gown. Her belly sucked in, and her breasts pushed up. The delicate fabric showed the clear outline of her pebbled nipples, pushing against the silk. Jude stifled a groan.
She was a slim woman and her breasts were small, but by god, they
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