Reckless - By Anne Stuart Page 0,38

his own across hers, pushing it open, using his tongue.

She froze in panic, and he was damn lucky she didn't bite him. He caught her rigid shoulders and pushed her back against the pillow, and his kiss softened, turning seductive, beguiling, touching her tongue, sliding his against it, gently. She was holding herself very still, simply letting him, when her own longue moved, just slightly, reaching for his as he withdrew, and he let out a groan of muffled pleasure.

She'd put her hands on his shoulders, clinging to him, and he suddenly pulled away as he felt her weaken. "Breathe, Charlotte. You're supposed to breathe.” She let out a whoosh of suppressed air, bringing more into her lungs. "How?"

He couldn't resist a small laugh. "A combination of ways. You sneak in a breath whenever your mouths change angles. You breathe through your nose. And you take a deep breath if you know you're about to be kissed. Like now."

He settled his mouth against hers, a second after she drew in her breath, a slow, deep kiss, then lifted his mouth. "Breathe," he whispered before he slanted his mouth against her, changing the angle, reveling in the delight of her untrained mouth. He lifted his mouth to bite her lip. "Again," he whispered. And used his tongue.

This time she was ready for him, kissing him back with real enthusiasm that was all the more arousing for the fact that she had absolutely no idea what she was doing. Clearly no one had kissed her before, and it made her capitulation curiously endearing.

Even touching nowhere but her shoulders he could feel her slowly building arousal. He moved his lips to the side of her mouth, then brushed them against her eyelids, her cheekbones, the soft curve of her ear.

"You aren't supposed to touch me below the neck," she said in a hushed voice.

He lifted his head to look down a( her, and he smiled. "Your hands are on me as well, precious."

She'd been clinging to his shoulders. She released him immediately, but he simply caught her hands and placed them back on him. "Nothing without your consent," he promised, kissing her again, silencing her midprotest.

He already knew how to loosen the monk's robes—it wasn’t the first time he’d brought a woman dressed in the plain costume back to these dark rooms. It fastened at the shoulder, held together by the rope belt. He slid one arm around her waist, pulling her closer against him, and managed to get his hand on the robe.

She'd double knotted it, of course, and pulled it tight so that it couldn't accidentally become loose.

He had a knife nearby—he would have happily cut it, but he needed to sneak up on her. She wouldn't know she'd been compromised until she was climaxing.

In the meantime, he kept her mouth and her mind busy with his kisses while his fingers fiddled with the knot. It took a while, particularly since he didn't want her to feel what he was doing, but he was nothing if not patient, and once the first knot gave, the rest was simple, the belt opening and falling onto the mattress between them.

And then he couldn't resist. His hand was too close, and he slid it up the front of her until he reached her breasts, closing over one.

She jerked, surprised, and if she hadn't been too busy kissing him she probably would have said no.

His fingers toyed with her nipple, feeling it harden instantly in his hand, and he wanted to shove the robe away from her and put his mouth on her, sucking in deep.

Slowly, slowly, he reminded himself, trying to control his rampaging body. Maybe he should leave her here, go find someone else to take the edge off so that he could come back to her and take his time. His need for her was advancing at outrageous speed—it usually took him a great deal longer to get so close to exploding. For some reason, Charlotte Spenser's shy reluctant responses were setting him on fire.

But he wasn't going to leave her. If it hurt, so be it. He would take as long as he needed to get her cooperation. He couldn't risk scaring her—all he needed was her adamant refusal and he'd be fucked. Or not.

He laughed deep inside as he slid his mouth down her throat. "What's funny?" Charlotte murmured, dazed.

“I am. Going to all this trouble."

Wrong thing to say. She tried to skitter away from him, to the far side