piercing hers, just like her daydream. "Will you?" he repeated softly.
Everything in her screamed to be aloof, to not let him know just how much she would miss him. "Maybe,"
she choked out.
A faint smile appeared on his lips, and he bent his head, his lips descending to hers. Holy Mother of God, he was going to
kiss
her! After days of fearing it, her knees finally buckled, and she stumbled backward against the wire cage. He smiled lazily at her complete discomfiture, and slowly, deliberately, leaned down until his lips touched hers.
The sensation of it rocked her.
Her body strained for air. His hand caressed the nape of her neck while the other slipped around her waist and pulled her into him. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and she wondered, insanely, if he could feel her heart slamming fitfully against him, threatening to break violently free. His lips moved lightly across hers, softly shaping them, tasting them as if they were some delicacy. His tongue flicked across the seam of her lips, and she heard herself moan softly. The pressure of his lips quickly intensified; she must have sighed, because his tongue was suddenly in her mouth, sweeping her teeth, her tongue, and the valleys of her cheeks. His hand cupped her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek.
An exquisite pressure began to build in her chest, filling the space her pounding heart did not. She feared she would very well explode from the feel of his sweet breath mingled with hers and almost hoped she would. He pressed tightly against her, seeking to meld his body to hers, and she realized her body answered, curving into him, melting against him. It was the single most incredible experience she had ever had, and she felt herself slipping away on a wave of unprecedented sensual desire.
Then suddenly, it was over.
He lifted his head. His eyes swept her face as he ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. With a lingering, tender kiss to her forehead, he stepped away. Stunned, Lauren could only gape at him. "It has been my very great pleasure knowing you, Lauren Hill," he said quietly, and reached up to carefully brush a curl from her temple. She thought he would speak again, but he abruptly turned, walking toward the fence with his head down and his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
She stood rigid, her chest heaving with each frantic breath, watching his long, determined stride until he disappeared into the pumpkin field. Only then did she notice she had destroyed her hat.
In the formal dining room of Sutherland Hall, Alex pretended to listen to his mother's recital of news contained in Aunt Paddy's latest missive from London. He stared at the massive silver candelabra in the center of the dining table, privately contemplating the last two weeks. Home now for two days, he could not stop thinking of Lauren Hill.
He had no idea what had possessed him to kiss her like that. Perhaps it was the look of genuine despair in her blue eyes when he had announced his departure, something he had done with no finesse at all.
Perhaps it was just plain desire—he understood, of course, that he desired her. Who would not?
She was beautiful, artless… And nothing more than a pleasing dalliance for the space of a fortnight.
He had had no right to kiss her so familiarly.
Familiar, hell. He had been completely unprepared for the impact of that kiss. That unusual, enchanting young woman had responded so achingly that she had almost knocked him from his boots.
"Alex?" Marlaine said softly. Hesitantly, he shifted his gaze to her. "I received a letter from my cousin, Daphne Broadmoore. She is coming home to Brighton next week, to Aunt Melinda's. Before I end my visit there, I thought to bring her round."
"Of course," he mumbled.
Marlaine blinked her wide brown eyes. "I hope you don't mind terribly. But now that we are engaged, it's really the thing to do," she explained.
The thing to do. Alex wondered, absurdly, if Marlaine would ever think wearing
Everything in her screamed to be aloof, to not let him know just how much she would miss him. "Maybe,"
she choked out.
A faint smile appeared on his lips, and he bent his head, his lips descending to hers. Holy Mother of God, he was going to
kiss
her! After days of fearing it, her knees finally buckled, and she stumbled backward against the wire cage. He smiled lazily at her complete discomfiture, and slowly, deliberately, leaned down until his lips touched hers.
The sensation of it rocked her.
Her body strained for air. His hand caressed the nape of her neck while the other slipped around her waist and pulled her into him. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and she wondered, insanely, if he could feel her heart slamming fitfully against him, threatening to break violently free. His lips moved lightly across hers, softly shaping them, tasting them as if they were some delicacy. His tongue flicked across the seam of her lips, and she heard herself moan softly. The pressure of his lips quickly intensified; she must have sighed, because his tongue was suddenly in her mouth, sweeping her teeth, her tongue, and the valleys of her cheeks. His hand cupped her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek.
An exquisite pressure began to build in her chest, filling the space her pounding heart did not. She feared she would very well explode from the feel of his sweet breath mingled with hers and almost hoped she would. He pressed tightly against her, seeking to meld his body to hers, and she realized her body answered, curving into him, melting against him. It was the single most incredible experience she had ever had, and she felt herself slipping away on a wave of unprecedented sensual desire.
Then suddenly, it was over.
He lifted his head. His eyes swept her face as he ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. With a lingering, tender kiss to her forehead, he stepped away. Stunned, Lauren could only gape at him. "It has been my very great pleasure knowing you, Lauren Hill," he said quietly, and reached up to carefully brush a curl from her temple. She thought he would speak again, but he abruptly turned, walking toward the fence with his head down and his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
She stood rigid, her chest heaving with each frantic breath, watching his long, determined stride until he disappeared into the pumpkin field. Only then did she notice she had destroyed her hat.
In the formal dining room of Sutherland Hall, Alex pretended to listen to his mother's recital of news contained in Aunt Paddy's latest missive from London. He stared at the massive silver candelabra in the center of the dining table, privately contemplating the last two weeks. Home now for two days, he could not stop thinking of Lauren Hill.
He had no idea what had possessed him to kiss her like that. Perhaps it was the look of genuine despair in her blue eyes when he had announced his departure, something he had done with no finesse at all.
Perhaps it was just plain desire—he understood, of course, that he desired her. Who would not?
She was beautiful, artless… And nothing more than a pleasing dalliance for the space of a fortnight.
He had had no right to kiss her so familiarly.
Familiar, hell. He had been completely unprepared for the impact of that kiss. That unusual, enchanting young woman had responded so achingly that she had almost knocked him from his boots.
"Alex?" Marlaine said softly. Hesitantly, he shifted his gaze to her. "I received a letter from my cousin, Daphne Broadmoore. She is coming home to Brighton next week, to Aunt Melinda's. Before I end my visit there, I thought to bring her round."
"Of course," he mumbled.
Marlaine blinked her wide brown eyes. "I hope you don't mind terribly. But now that we are engaged, it's really the thing to do," she explained.
The thing to do. Alex wondered, absurdly, if Marlaine would ever think wearing
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