Page 13 of Winter's Wallflower
Because he had followed her. Though he moved with surprising stealth for a man of his size, there was no mistaking his presence. She took in the pictures on his walls—turbulent watercolors and intricate engravings—before turning to find him near enough to touch. The heat from his big body radiated into hers.
He was staring at her in that bold fashion he possessed, the one which made her feel as if he could see her in a way no other man before him had. In a way that made her pulse pound and something deep within her quicken. Between her thighs, awareness throbbed to life.
She cleared her throat, reminding herself she was here for a reason. She had a debt to pay. A brother’s safety to secure.
“What would you have me do?” she asked him at last, hoping he would not suspect the reason behind her question.
She was a novice, and not at all the dedicated, experienced mistress she pretended to be. What would a mistress do?
He trailed his forefinger over the bow of her lips in a touch that was so light, it may have never happened save for the sparks he left in his wake. “Seduce me.”
Adele’s pulse pounded. His finger had lingered at the corner of her mouth, so she acted on instinct, turning her head without breaking the connection of their gazes, and pressing a kiss to the roughened pad. His command filled her with a confused rush of longing.
He dragged his finger slowly over her lower lip and then slipped it inside her mouth. The invasion was unexpected and yet, somehow thrilling. She tasted the salt of his skin. Once more, impulse guided her as she sucked.
His gaze settled upon her mouth, darkening as he withdrew his finger, then slid it over her lips, moistening them. “What other tricks have you, love?”
Tricks? Angels in heaven.
She had none. She had never even kissed a gentleman. But she did not dare confess that. If he discovered she was not who she pretended to be, there was every possibility he would renege upon his word to keep Max from further harm. And Adele could not bear that.
Tentatively, she settled her hands upon Dominic Winter’s shoulders. He was solid beneath her questing fingertips. Wonderfully solid. And male. And warm. She wastouchinghim, this dangerous stranger who ruled over an empire of criminals. She ought to be terrified, but all she felt was intrigued instead.
“You are hesitant,” he observed. “Do not be afraid. I shan’t bite.” He paused, sending her a wicked grin that made her feel as if her insides were melting. “Unless you wish it.”
Biteher? The notion should have been repellent. And yet, issued in his deep, seductive voice, the words made heat slide through her.
What would a mistress do?
She would kiss him. Yes, that was what she would do. Adele licked her lips, imagining the proper way it ought to be done. Easy enough, yes? She would rise on her toes, press her mouth to his, and then…
She had no notion of what came next. Never mind that. She would figure it out.
Adele closed her eyes and blindly moved toward him, seeking his lips with hers. But his cupped hands framing her face stayed her progress. Her eyelids fluttered open to find him watching her.
“Eyes open, angel,” he commanded softly. “I want you to see the man you are kissing. I do not want you to pretend I am another.”
There was no one else she would rather have him be, though she dared not say so aloud. His dark, starkly handsome countenance stole her breath and made her heart pound wildly. He was everything she should fear and everything she had never dreamed she had wanted. The man before her bore no resemblance to the uninspiring dandies and lords who inhabited London’s finest ballrooms and assembly rooms.
She rose on her toes, eyes fastened upon his mouth. Then, she pressed her lips to his.
And caught flame.
* * *
Sodding hell, her mouth was so soft. So supple and warm. There was nothing particularly skilled in the way she kissed him. And maybe that was what made it so damned special. She kissed him as if she wanted to learn him. As if his were the first lips she had ever kissed. As if such unspoiled innocence existed.
It did not, neither in Dom nor in the beautiful woman in his arms. But something made him want to pretend it did, even if for the night. He wanted to pretend she was here with him because she wanted to be here, and not because she wanted to protect her lover.
Not so difficult to do with her lips moving over his. With each hesitant movement, she undid him more and more. Ever since she had first stormed into his private office, she had bewitched him. This moment was no different than all those which had preceded it.
Her kiss was almost tender. Sweeter than any kiss he had ever known. It was seductive and innocent all at once. Almost as if she did not know how to kiss. Her lips moved over his in whispers. She was good, this woman. Better than the other women he had known. Was this feeling why fancy coves kept ladies like her?
Dom had never understood the practice until now. He had simply taken his pleasure with women he could trust not to sink a blade between his ribs. He had never wanted another woman to the point that he would gladly give his left arm for more of her.
This one was different. He had not been wrong in his name for her. She was an angel. His angel.
For tonight only.
