Page 31 of What a Lord Wants

Unable to resist, she closed her eyes. And licked.

She barely had time to register the masculine taste of him on her tongue before his lips were on hers again, giving her fervent, open-mouthed kisses. A low moan—it took her several seconds before she realized that the sound had come from her own lips.

He broke the kiss and slid his mouth across her cheek to her ear. “Dear God, you’re beautiful.”

“So are you,” she breathed, running her hands through his hair. The thick dark curls were just as silky as she’d always imagined. Now that she had permission to touch them, she couldn’t make herself stop.

His low laugh rumbled into her as his mouth claimed her throat, sucking and nipping in turns at the tender flesh. “But you’re also warm and sweet.”

A wide smile crossed her face as she placed a kiss to his temple. “So are you.”

“And deliciously soft.”

Her turn to laugh then, becausenothingabout him was soft. But before she could find a reply, his hands swept up her sides to cup her breasts.

Her breath hitched, then eased out in a long sigh of pleasure as he caressed her through the stiff stays.

Oh, Burton Williams had never donethis! That the first man to touch her like this was Dom filled her with joy.

She arched into him, to press herself fully into his palms. The heat of his hands seeped through the soft material and warmed her, and her breasts grew heavy as the sensation of feminine awakening rushed through her. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to bear herself to him and those miraculous hands, to that seeking mouth that even now kissed lightly over the tops of her breasts, and to the tension she felt coiling inside him. The same tension that had begun to twist inside her own belly. And lower.

She placed his hand on the front tie of her corset, giving permission for him to undress her.

Instead, he stilled.

She sat back, far enough to cast a confused stare down at him as she remained straddled over his thighs. His eyes flickered with something dark and dangerous that she couldn’t quite place but that sent an adventurous thrill through her unlike any she’d ever known.

She whispered, “Dom?”

He didn’t move, just stared at his hand as it rested between her breasts, his fingers on the tie.

“It’s all right,” she breathed out, so softly that there was barely any sound. “You can…if you’d like.”

A groan of frustration rose from the back of his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he grabbed her by the shoulders and held her still. Eve couldn’t tell if he wanted to let her go, or pull her toward him so that he could kiss her again.

“I can’t,” he rasped out. “I should never have let it go this far.”

She trembled, wanting nothing more than to lower herself against his chest and become lost in his arms. “Because of the painting?”

A curt nod, as if her very presence pained him.

“But you want me nude.”

A laugh tore from him, and he muttered, “You have no idea how much.”

Oh, she had a pretty good idea. Even now she felt the proof of it pressing against her inner thigh.

He smoothed her hair back over her shoulders, then cupped her face. When he brought her head down to him, she held her breath in anticipation of another heated, open-mouthed kiss, only for a pang of disappointment to strike hollowly in her chest when he placed his lips chastely on her forehead.

The notorious artist whose kisses and touches she desired had suddenly turned into a gentleman. But she wanted her rakehell back.

“A painter can look all he wants,” he murmured against her temple. “But I have no right to touch, no matter how much I want to. That would ruin everything.”

Her disappointment melted into a burning ache. “You want…to touch me?”

He laughed darkly, then pulled her into his arms to hold her pressed against him for only a fleeting second. His hand shoved deep into her hair to keep her head close enough that he could murmur into her ear. “Wrong lesson, Eve.”

Then he set her away, putting her off his lap and onto her bare feet in front of him.