Lovers Forever by Shirlee Busbee

spring.... With an effort he jerked his eyes from the beguiling curve of that sweet mouth and let them drift lazily down her slim form, to the small, tempting bosom, the narrow waist, and the teasing hint of her thighs beneath the faded pink gown.
    Nicolas had been very contented a moment ago before she had knocked on the door. He had been well fed and warm, with the sound of the storm raging outside the inn soothing rather than disruptive. He had been looking forward to slipping into the comfortable-looking bed, but all that had vanished the moment she entered the room.
    Suddenly he was ravenous, and his appetite had nothing to do with food. Desire, powerful and demanding, beat in his veins, the heaviness of his swelling manhood lay against his thigh, and he was conscious of a feeling of inevitability. He was going to make love to her . . . tonight . . . all this long, stormy night. Any second now he was going to get up, walk across the room, lift her up in his arms, and carry her to that bed to find out if the magic that seemed to flow between them was real or imagined. But in the meantime there was no hurry, no reason to rush; after all, they did have all night....
    To Tess’s astonishment, he smiled at her, a whimsical smile that pulled at her heartstrings. “Join me,” he said huskily, indicating a chair on the other side of the fire. “Sit and talk with me awhile.”
    Tempted unbearably, Tess halfheartedly sought to retreat. “I’ll just pour your b-b-brandy and leave, if you don’t mind, Your Lordship. I’m very tired.” That fascinating mouth quirked slightly, and those heavy-lidded eyes moved over her. Tess could feel her resistance, faint though it had been, melting away.
    â€œPour yourself some brandy, too, then come and rest here in front of the fire—I’m sure there won’t be a fire in your room.” He grinned. “And don’t worry, I won’t bite—at least not very hard—I swear it.”
    Every instinct Tess possessed told her to leave the room immediately. She knew there was great danger to her unpredictable heart with every second that she remained in this man’s presence, yet she remained precisely where she was. Even worse, to her astonishment, she found herself smiling back at him and pouring two snifters of brandy.
    Wondering if she had lost her mind, urged on by some force over which she had no control, she picked up the two snifters and walked across the room. After shyly handing one to the earl, she sat down primly on the chair he had indicated.
    Rather amazed at her brazenness, but deciding that she had rather be hung as a lion than a lamb, Tess gradually relaxed back into the welcoming softness of the chair and took a hearty swallow of the brandy. The bite of it caught her by surprise and she choked.
    Nicolas smiled at her and said, “Brandy is to be savored—swirl the liquor around your snifter like this and let the aroma drift up to you, let the scent enfold you—then and only then do you take a sip. You don’t gulp it, you take your time, letting the flavor linger on your tongue, then you swallow.”
    Tess watched as he demonstrated, fascinated by the workings of his long brown throat when he finally swallowed the amber liquid. He took such carnal delight in the entire act of appreciating the brandy that she knew he would make love the same way.... -
    Startled at her thought, she glanced away, suddenly conscious of a tingling in her bosom, of a warmth spreading downward through her body to pool achingly between her thighs. What in heaven’s name was the matter with her? She was certain she had never felt this way before in her life. A twisted smile curved her mouth. But then what did she really know about herself—her memories began only twelve or so hours ago when she had awakened under that oak tree—perhaps she felt this way all the time, with many different men.
    It was an unpleasant