Page 21 of Dancing With Danger

“From whom?” She glanced about them dramatically, as if searching for the danger of which he spoke.

Surely some primitive instinct within her had to realize how close he was to—

“I’m perfectly safe,” she said in a tone more convincing than confident. As if she were trying to persuade herself. “My—my brother-in-law, Chief Inspector Carlton Morley, is nearby.”

“No, he isn’t,” Raphael tutted, advancing on her with measured steps. Forcing her to retreat in small increments. “I know Morley, he’s as decisive as he is honorable, which means he’d have me in chains before I could do this.”

Raphael seized her by the elbow and swung her into a deeply shadowed alleyway between two enclosures, with all the deftness of a man twirling his partner in a waltz.

He ducked them into the alcove of a door and slanted his mouth over hers, desperate to taste her before she could take in enough breath to protest.

Chapter 5

But she didn’t.

She didn’t struggle or fight.

The first time he’d kissed her, he’d taken her by surprise. She’d been unerringly sweet and obviously untried.

And still she’d captivated and aroused him more than the most skilled of courtesans.

She was artless. Guileless. And in her presence, he was something he’d never been before.

Helpless.

She didn’t remain still or soft in his arms. She didn’t become rigid nor limp with fear nor anger.

She went wild.

Her fingers were claws in the lapels of his jacket. At the taut muscles of his back. Then suddenly scoring his scalp as she turned his impulsive seduction into a battlefield. Her lips pulled tight against her teeth. Her tongue went on the offensive, thrusting into his mouth and tangling with his.

God, he’d only meant to pilfer a sip of her. Sample her particular confection of flavor and savor it.

Butshedevouredhim.

Raphael’s blood pounded in a deafening roar, screaming through his veins with a victorious thrill. His entire body was consumed with the taste of her, like a crisp, sparkling Alsatian summer wine, both tart and sweet, with a sultry bite.

She intoxicated him.

Her ferocity called to something inside of him.

Because he knew it for what it was. Both an attack and a defense. He’d cornered her, and so she would make certain she was in control by claiming the kiss.

And he didn’t want that.

What he wanted was her to enjoy it.

Bracketing her face with his hands, Raphael brushed tender thumbs over the downy curve of her cheekbones as he fought back the savage lust that hardened his body. He longed to take her. To possess and invade her, to thrust into her with the same abandon she showed now.

Images tormented him. Of her bent over things, tied to other things, writhing at the wickedness he could wreak upon her.

It tantalized him to the brink of madness.

And yet.

Some foreign sort of affection welled within him. While his body was hard, inside his rib cage, something loosened.

Softened.