Page 25 of The Rake is Taken

He blinked, releasing his own unsteady breath when he wanted to smash his fist into the Grape’s face. “Why tell me this?”

Her pupils flared, chin lifting, gaslight winking off her spectacle lenses. “Because I think I’d like yours.”

The devastating confession held him captive, boxed in on all sides, his heart bumping against his ribs until he was sure she could hear it over the ticking mantel clock, the call of a Whippoorwill outside the window, the clang of a washbasin down the hall. Like a translation, he was uncovering obscure pieces of her one word at a time. Lashes so long they dusted her skin when she blinked, a delightful sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose, the one next to her mouth that had called to him from the first moment he’d seen it.

She held his gaze, accepted his regard with quiet courage. A formidable partner should he be looking for one.

He recalled her warning at the Blue Moon.I’m not going to yield.

Evidently, neither was he.

With judicious intent, he slipped her spectacles from her face, gave them a gentle fold, and placed them on the desk. “You’re right,” he agreed, sliding his hand up her cheek and into her hair, guiding her body into position between his spread legs. “You will like it.”

“What are you doing?” Her voice was frayed at the edges.

“Breaking our agreement.”

Then with a soft sigh, he pressed his lips to hers.

Touching him had been a mistake.

Tendering such an intimate gesture as trimming his hair had been a mistake. All she’d done was free the strands to curl adorably about a face that needed no further introduction. Gambling with herself and him for some irrational reason. Likely because, hellion at heart, she couldn’t help herself. Backing down from a dare, even her own, was not a skill.

Now, his lips were covering hers, his head tilting to adjust the fit, the hand at her nape squeezing as he released a hoarse sound that ignited her blood, sending a river of fire through her veins. He was as tied up by their attraction as she was, this unbelievably handsome, brilliant man.

“Let me in,” he pleaded, his thumb drawing her bottom lip down until she had no choice but to follow his command. Follow every forbidden one whispering through her mind.

Step in until your hips meet.

Tangle your fingers in his hair.

Angle your head.

Touch his tongue with yours.

Clash, engage,explore.

It was a kiss unlike any she’d ever experienced—and she tumbled into it with abandon. It wasn’t born of domination or teasing flights of fancy, an effort to persuade or negotiate. An endeavor built around running from trouble or into it.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. A typical first-try experiment.

It wasn’t even perfect.

It was fierce.

His tooth bumped hers, the one with the chip. When she ran her tongue along the ragged edge, helplessly digging her fingertips into his scalp and bringing him closer, he reacted with a moan and a hip shift that brought his shockingly stalwart erection into play against her thigh. She shouldn’t have known what it was, a gently bred young woman, yet she did.

And it,he, felt magnificent.

She sighed in yearning as astonishing discoveries ripped through her. His breath teasing her lips as he repositioned his mouth over hers and dove deeper. The moist flush of his skin beneath her questing hands. Broad shoulders, muscular chest, lean hips. Brushed cotton caressing her cheek as he wrapped his arms around her. The enticing scent of spice and chocolate clinging to his hair, his skin, his clothing. His hands moving lower, grasping her hips and settling her against him as she went up her toes to secure the fit. The world spun, racing at high speed, and locking them in its fiery center.

What a kiss was all she could think.

What aman.

What afind.

She was sliding his brace off his shoulder, having already tugged his four-in-hand from about his neck when voices in the hallway suspended rotation of the clandestine world they occupied. With a wrenching, awkward movement, he gripped her shoulders and pushed her back, blinked hard, and met her gaze, presenting as bewildered an expression as she guessed she’d ever see from him. She watched, waiting. It was seconds, long, measured seconds, before the room they stood in, their being locked in each other’s embrace, before everything—good, bad, indifferent—came to him, riding on his sharp intake of air. “Fucking hell,” he whispered, brushing his knuckles across his lips as if they stung.