A Rake's Midnight Kiss by Anna Campbell Page A

breathless and bedazzled. She could hardly blame Mr. Evans for responding with wry amusement.
    “How would you know, my sweet little lamb?”
    He kissed her again. This time his tongue’s invasion didn’t seem so alien. A thrill coursed through her, tightening her breasts and settling heavily between her legs. She shifted to relieve the building pressure.
    The sensation wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just… odd.
    A kiss was astonishingly intimate. Her mind might insist that Mr. Evans meant trouble, but close to his big, strong body, she felt safe. Safe, yet brave and verging on some marvelous discovery. It was like entering a hitherto forbidden section of the library.
    She should be frightened, but she wasn’t. His touch was inexplicably familiar, as though he’d touched her before. As though she belonged in his arms. As though she’d waited all her life for this man to set his lips to hers.
    By offering her mouth, she surrendered something of her soul. The experience was overwhelming, too complex to analyze. Instead she drifted into velvety pleasure where his lips lured her with what even a novice recognized as breathtaking expertise.
    Tentatively she moved her tongue, copying him. This time Mr. Evans’s growl expressed satisfaction. What remarkable communication he achieved without words.
    Encouraged, she slid her tongue over his, then more daringly, she slipped it between his lips, tasting him as he tasted her. At first the activity had seemed outlandish. No longer.
    Mr. Evans plunged his hands into her hair and angled her upward, changing the pleasure. This time the moan was hers. After exploring every inch of her mouth, he lured her with delicious nips and nibbles. She loved his rich taste. She pursued him, seeking more soul-melting kisses.
    She was vaguely aware of Mr. Evans stroking her hips. When his hands cupped her buttocks, she started.
    An intimation of danger pricked.
    As her skirt inched upward, the breeze brushed her bare legs. A warning strove for purchase in her foggy mind. Mr. Evans had promised a kiss to enlighten ignorance. Now this encounter escaped those boundaries.
    As if to confirm that thought, he pressed the small of her back, bringing her nearer. Inexperienced she might be. Stupid she wasn’t. And she’d lived in the country all her life. She couldn’t mistake that throbbing hardness against her stomach.
    Roughly she broke away. “No.”
    She wasn’t sure he heard. Or if he heard, whether he’d take note. Fear, long overdue, crammed her throat. Then to her relief, he released her and her skirt flopped to her ankles with a damp slap. He breathed unsteadily, but otherwise seemed unaffected.
    Genevieve, on the other hand, felt like she’d barely survived a tempest. For one traitorous moment, her heart leaped with hope that his kiss had required feelings as well as technique. Then she reminded herself that she was safer by far if it hadn’t.
    Unexpectedly his expression turned sheepish. “I apologize, Miss Barrett. You were right to stop me.”
    She panted, still quivering with reaction. How could she have been so stupid to let this go so far? How could she have started at all?
    The ghosts of his kisses lingered on Genevieve’s lips and in her mind. Grimly she suspected the ghosts of his kisses would haunt her for too long. Well after Mr. Evans forgot her.
    For the first time, she comprehended the full extent of her rashness. She’d trusted his honor, and thank goodness, he hadn’t disappointed her. But after this glimpse of pleasure, the door to desire didn’t close as readily as she’d hoped.
    “I must go.” Just as before, she didn’t move.
    “Yes.”
    Blast him. That monosyllable shouldn’t sound like an invitation to stay and explore new worlds. She leaned forward to claim another drugging kiss before lurching back to reality and stopping herself. Her yen for this man terrified her, as did the possibility that he might reveal her foolishness to the world. “You can’t