Page 23 of A Scandal In July

Her gaze seemed to have become fixed on his lips. The wine was giving her a warm, fuzzy feeling. He had the most beautiful lips.

A surge of recklessness filled her. She leaned towards him, as if to impart a great secret. “Just so you know,” she whispered. “I amnotdrunk right now.”

Her heart was thundering with excitement, but she’d bided her time long enough. It was time to take a risk.

He leaned closer, too, trapping her against the bottles of wine stacked in the shelves. “No?”

She shook her head. The air between them was heavy, almost throbbing with anticipation.

His eyes bored into hers. “So, if I kissed you, for example, that wouldn’t be taking advantage?”

“Definitely not,” she breathed.

His face remained impassive, there was a twinkle in his eye that made her blood sing.

“Maybe I should try it, then.”

He leaned in, and his warm breath stirred the tendrils of hair by her ear. A nervous thrill of anticipation twisted low in her belly.

His lips brushed her temple, and she heard him inhale softly, as if he were drawing in her scent, her essence, into his lungs. Her knees went weak, and she breathed in the delicious masculine smell ofhim; musky woods and clean sheets.

His lips danced along her cheekbone, deliberately teasing out the moment, and then his fingers cupped her jaw, then slid around the back of her head to tangle in her hair.

Her whole body tingled.

The pad of his thumb brushed her lower lip, sliding across it, dragging it down, and she tilted her face up to his, desperate for him to close the distance and put her out of her misery.

When his lips finally pressed hers, she gave a little groan of relief and went up on her tiptoes to meet him. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and when she opened her mouth at his insistent pressure, his tongue slid inside to tangle with her own.

Lenore closed her eyes in scandalized delight. She was kissing Rhys Davies! And it wasglorious. Even better than her feverish imaginings.

He tasted of wine; smoky, rich, delicious. The lazy swirl of his tongue against hers was a slow, delicious seduction, fogging her brain, and making her knees weak.

He groaned, deep in his throat, a thrilling, masculine sound of torment and need, and her stomach clenched at the sound. She abandoned herself to the kiss, returning what he gave, silently urging him on. She pressed herself against him, full-length, feeling the warmth of his chest as it rested against hers, the strong columns of his legs.

Giving in to temptation, she ran her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, then up to touch the warm skin of his cheek. The slightly rough hint of stubble beneath her fingertips made her heart jolt, and she kissed him again and again, loving the swirling vortex of darkness and pleasure he conjured.

She’d never kissedanyonelike this before, never dreamed it was possible, but it also felt incrediblyright. As if her body recognized this man, this feeling of being home.

She wanted to do this forever.

The sudden scrape of feet on the stairs and the muffled echo of voices only vaguely intruded on her consciousness, but Rhys dragged his lips from hers with a groan that sounded almost pained.

“Bloody Hell. Someone’s coming.”

Lenore opened her eyes in sudden panic as she came back to earth with an unwelcome jolt.

“What?”

Rhys stepped back, releasing her, and she reluctantly dropped her hands from his face. Her soul felt as though it was being ripped from her chest.

Her lips were tingling, her cheeks flushed, and a strange swirling sensation gnawed in her belly. She knew what it was: lust. Desire. Need.

Oh, hell.

She glanced up at Rhys and found his gaze fixed on her lips, his chest rising and falling in rapid, panting breaths, and a surge of feminine satisfaction rushed through her. At least he looked as shaken as she felt.

He blinked, then shook his head, as if coming out of a trance, and cocked his head to listen for the unwelcome intruders.