A Matter of Temptation by Lorraine Heath

not even contemplate that he mighthave been on the verge of weeping at the comfort such an innocent touch could bring.
    “Robert?”
    He stiffened at the sound of her voice, as soft as a caress in the dark.
    “I’m sorry if I’ve done something to displease you,” she said, her voice so low that he barely heard it.
    Slamming his eyes closed, he laid his cheek against the top of her head, once again feeling that unaccustomed stinging behind his eyes.
    “You haven’t displeased me, Torie.”
    “You seem so different.”
    Tell her; tell her the truth . The perfect opportunity had been laid in his lap, so to speak. Her. Here. Yet as soon as he revealed everything—that he was not the man who’d asked for her hand in marriage—she would move away, completely and forever. What would it hurt to savor just a few more moments with her in his arms?
    “May I make a confession?” she whispered.
    A confession? One as innocent as she? What could she possibly confess? That she only pretended to eat her vegetables?
    “Of course,” he murmured.
    “I was thinking this morning that our wedding had arrived too soon, before I was ready. I thought you read in my eyes the doubts I was harboring at the church.”
    “I saw no doubt.”
    “It’s simply that I realized this morning thatwe’ve had no time to get to know each other without the company of others. You’ve never even kissed me properly.”
    “Have I not?”
    She didn’t look at him as she said, her voice lower, “No.”
    “Should I remedy that situation, do you think?”
    The words escaped before he had a chance to think them through. He felt her barely perceptible nod in the nook of his shoulder.
    Then she was turning her face up to his. She was little more than shadows, captured by an occasional beam of moonlight dancing in through the window. He couldn’t read her expression, and perhaps that was for the best, because neither could she read his.
    He cradled her cheek and skimmed his thumb over her mouth. “It’s been a while since I’ve kissed a lady,” he rasped, “but I believe I remember the basics.”
    “I’ve never kissed a man.”
    Groaning low at her admission, he was acutely aware of her lips parting slightly, her tongue grazing his thumb, and he knew he was on the verge of making a dreadful mistake, but he seemed unable to stop himself.
    He lowered his mouth to hers.
    He’d never known such softness as her lips shaped themselves to match his. Or warmth as she opened her mouth, allowing him entry. Theblinding heat shot through him, as he explored her offering with his tongue, darting thrusting, relishing the velvety textures as much as the rougher ones.
    He angled his head to get a more comfortable fit and was immediately greeted by a waft of her perfume—from behind her ear, and he envisioned her delicately placing the droplet there. He thought about kissing the spot but didn’t want to leave her mouth unattended, a mouth that had teased him all day with hints of smiles and bits of conversation. A mouth that could create a dimple upon command. He thought about kissing the dimple as well, thought about kissing every inch of her, and even as he thought it, he knew it could never be.
    He was taking liberties to which he had no right, but she had invited him to kiss her, and he’d gone too long without invitations to turn one away when it was delivered by such a lovely lady and presented with such enticement. And so he took what she offered and fought back the guilt. It was only a kiss, after all.
    Only a kiss.
    The thought made it seem insignificant, when it was anything but. It washed over him and through him, and filled the empty vastness of his heart that had been alone for far too long. It drew him away from the darkness of despair with a bold sweep of her tongue. She wasn’t shy. She gave far more than she took, boldly setting a path that he thought would lead directly to her heart.
    A heart she’d reserved for his brother.
    He deepened