Page 44 of His Revelation
And then, before she could process the most wonderful thing anyone had ever said to her, he was leaning toward her, his intense green gaze on her lips.
Yes.
She pushed upward to meet him, and when his lips finally claimed hers, they both moaned low in their throats.
His skin was warm against hers as he pulled her closer, and her knees trembled. The beard was rough, but the sensation only made her shiver, even as a warmth traveled down her limbs and settled between her legs, a memory of what he’d done for her last night.
His lips pulled and tugged and suckled in the most incredible of ways, and when his tongue brushed against the seam of her lips, hers parted and welcomed him in. He groaned again, deepening the kiss, as his fingers dug into the simple bun she wore under her cap.
Her hands weren’t still either. It was as if this kiss was the excuse her body had been waiting for, and she touched him entirely without guidance from her mind. Her palms skimmed up the strong muscles of his upper arms, then scratched at his sideburns, then moved around to cup the back of his head, tugging his tam off so she could touch his hair.
Dear Lord in Heaven.
There’d been a moment at the ball, which now seemed so long ago, when she’d thought Lysander would kiss her. He hadn’t, although she’d been near breathless from anticipation.
But whatever that kiss would’ve been, she knew—knew—it wouldn’t have been anywhere near as miraculous as this one.
This was the most incredible experience of her life, and that included what had happened last night up against the door. The feel of his lips on her neck was nothing compared tothis. Tiffany wanted to sink into these sensations, to follow where they led, to begin each morning with a kiss like this?—
He was the one who pulled away first, and a voice in the back of her mind whispered that it was likely a smart move, sinceshedidn’t appear to be capable of stopping. If events remained in her hands, she’d likely have him down on the ground, straddling his hardness, just so she could rub against?—
With a groan, she closed her eyes on her own wanton thoughts.
He seemed to echo the groan as he pressed his forehead against hers. “I ken,” he whispered.
She was trying to get her breathing under control. “I do not even know your name.”
“Lysander.”
It wasn’t the word, but the way he froze after he whispered it, that made her realize something was wrong. She forced her mind to catch up with her ears. What had he said?
Lysander.
Lysander?
Sucking in a startled breath, she reared back. “Lysander?” she blurted.
It was the look of guilt in his eye, more than anything, which told the truth.
That, and the fact the ubiquitous tam was lying on the ground, and she could see the shape of his face clearly for the first time, even with the beard.
“Lysander!” Reaching out, she ripped the eyepatch from his head, trying not to care as it snagged and pulled on his ear.
Sure enough, two perfect eyes blinked down at her, then shifted their gaze away.
She’d thought her Lunzie’s eyes had been green, but here and now, shadowed by guilt, she saw they were Lysander’s hazel, as changeable as he apparently was.
Pushing away from him, she stumbled backward. “Itisyou!” she accused, as she tripped over her skirt and almost fell, ignoring the way he reached to help her. Righting herself, she whirled back to him. “Lysander? You have been my Lunzie all along?’
She’d slept against his shoulder. She’d admired him. She’d climaxed against his hand.
You kissed him too. The most amazing kiss you could have imagined.
Dear Lord in Heaven.
He held his hands out, palms up, at his side.
“It’s me, Tiffany,” he admitted in a low voice.
