think of anything but making certain he never stopped.
Seven
He hadn’t wanted to kiss her. God knew he’d teased her enough. But what the devil was he supposed to do when she stood, all prim and proper, in her princess-in-a-tower room and stared at him with that shocked expression.
That adorably shocked expression. He didn’t want to find her adorable. He didn’t want to enjoy shocking her, but he couldn’t seem to help it. It reminded him of when he’d been a boy and unable to resist needling his older brother.
Except Lila was nothing like his older brother.
And he hadn’t meant to kiss her. He’d been angry because she had no concept of the danger she was in and because she’d taken over the only place that had ever been his alone and—very well—because he’d had to marry her and she was beautiful and he couldn’t stop wanting to kiss her.
Only half of that was her fault.
But when she’d yelled back at him, her spine perfectly straight, her head held high, her hands folded primly before her, he hadn’t been able to resist. He wanted to ruffle her composure, hear her make a sound other than a squeak of disapproval.
And so he’d yanked her against him and kissed her. A quick kiss to show her she didn’t control him. But once his lips brushed over hers, he hadn’t been in such a hurry to pull back. Once he felt the softness of her mouth, he wanted to feel more.
He danced his lips lightly over hers once, twice, three times. On the third time, she opened her lips with a light gasp or sigh—he was not certain which—and he slid his hand up her back and into her hair. He slanted his mouth over hers, angling her head to give him better access.
Her body was rigid in his arms, but she didn’t protest. And as he moved his mouth over hers, she began to melt into him, slowly at first, until her arms came around his neck, and she clung to him as though he were the last lifeline of a sinking ship.
Her soft body pressed against him, her heat making him forget the cold rain and the chill of the hours he’d spent outside. Her scent, which seemed to be a mixture of lily of the valley and laundered linen, teased his senses, making him want more and more. She did not kiss him back, but when he ran his tongue lightly along the seam of her lips, she gave a soft moan.
He rather doubted she’d been kissed much since he’d last kissed her and not by any man who knew what he was about.
Hell, Brook hadn’t known how to kiss a woman properly himself seven years ago.
But he knew now.
He might have deepened the kiss then. He certainly wanted to. His body wanted more than a kiss, but he held back. This path was a slippery slope. Kissing her was only making him want her, and no good could come from that. This sham of a marriage would be over in a few days’ time. Easier for both of them if they made a clean break.
Brook broke away from her, stepping back and releasing her. She clung to him for another moment before realizing she was free and forcing her legs to hold her weight.
Her eyes were so dark they were almost amber. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips red as a ripe rose and just as plump. Brook clenched his hands in order to resist taking her in his arms again.
“I don’t forgive you,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word. “In the future, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t accost me.”
He raised a brow. “Accost you? Is that what it’s called?”
“I don’t wish to have you paw at me whenever the mood strikes you.”
Brook’s hands clenched again but not from desire. “I neither accosted you nor pawed you, madam.” He stepped closer to her, but she didn’t back up. Even if she’d wanted to, her back was to the wall. “I kissed you, and you bloody well liked it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I beg your pardon, but your moans and the way your hands clung to my person confused me momentarily.”
Her color rose higher and so did her chin. “Do not kiss me again.”
“I’ll
Seven
He hadn’t wanted to kiss her. God knew he’d teased her enough. But what the devil was he supposed to do when she stood, all prim and proper, in her princess-in-a-tower room and stared at him with that shocked expression.
That adorably shocked expression. He didn’t want to find her adorable. He didn’t want to enjoy shocking her, but he couldn’t seem to help it. It reminded him of when he’d been a boy and unable to resist needling his older brother.
Except Lila was nothing like his older brother.
And he hadn’t meant to kiss her. He’d been angry because she had no concept of the danger she was in and because she’d taken over the only place that had ever been his alone and—very well—because he’d had to marry her and she was beautiful and he couldn’t stop wanting to kiss her.
Only half of that was her fault.
But when she’d yelled back at him, her spine perfectly straight, her head held high, her hands folded primly before her, he hadn’t been able to resist. He wanted to ruffle her composure, hear her make a sound other than a squeak of disapproval.
And so he’d yanked her against him and kissed her. A quick kiss to show her she didn’t control him. But once his lips brushed over hers, he hadn’t been in such a hurry to pull back. Once he felt the softness of her mouth, he wanted to feel more.
He danced his lips lightly over hers once, twice, three times. On the third time, she opened her lips with a light gasp or sigh—he was not certain which—and he slid his hand up her back and into her hair. He slanted his mouth over hers, angling her head to give him better access.
Her body was rigid in his arms, but she didn’t protest. And as he moved his mouth over hers, she began to melt into him, slowly at first, until her arms came around his neck, and she clung to him as though he were the last lifeline of a sinking ship.
Her soft body pressed against him, her heat making him forget the cold rain and the chill of the hours he’d spent outside. Her scent, which seemed to be a mixture of lily of the valley and laundered linen, teased his senses, making him want more and more. She did not kiss him back, but when he ran his tongue lightly along the seam of her lips, she gave a soft moan.
He rather doubted she’d been kissed much since he’d last kissed her and not by any man who knew what he was about.
Hell, Brook hadn’t known how to kiss a woman properly himself seven years ago.
But he knew now.
He might have deepened the kiss then. He certainly wanted to. His body wanted more than a kiss, but he held back. This path was a slippery slope. Kissing her was only making him want her, and no good could come from that. This sham of a marriage would be over in a few days’ time. Easier for both of them if they made a clean break.
Brook broke away from her, stepping back and releasing her. She clung to him for another moment before realizing she was free and forcing her legs to hold her weight.
Her eyes were so dark they were almost amber. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips red as a ripe rose and just as plump. Brook clenched his hands in order to resist taking her in his arms again.
“I don’t forgive you,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word. “In the future, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t accost me.”
He raised a brow. “Accost you? Is that what it’s called?”
“I don’t wish to have you paw at me whenever the mood strikes you.”
Brook’s hands clenched again but not from desire. “I neither accosted you nor pawed you, madam.” He stepped closer to her, but she didn’t back up. Even if she’d wanted to, her back was to the wall. “I kissed you, and you bloody well liked it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I beg your pardon, but your moans and the way your hands clung to my person confused me momentarily.”
Her color rose higher and so did her chin. “Do not kiss me again.”
“I’ll
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