Sweet Rogue of Mine (The Survivors #9) - Shana Galen Page 0,58
her body melted into his.
Her mouth brushed against his, and he couldn’t stop the smile.
“You’re smiling again,” she murmured. “It makes me nervous.”
He leaned close until he inhaled her scent. The smells of pine and oak, moss, and late-blooming flowers permeated the air, but underneath all of them was Pru Howard. He would know that scent anywhere. “You think I have a diabolical plan?”
“I wouldn’t put it past you.”
“I smiled because you seemed impatient for me to kiss you.” He found the curve of her neck and nuzzled it lightly. Her hands, which he’d barely felt under the wool of his coat, gripped his shoulders tightly.
“A lady would never admit to being impatient for such a thing,” she said, shivering when he pressed a light kiss to a spot just below her ear.
“No, she would not,” he murmured against her skin.
“Thank God I am not a lady.” She turned her head, and his lips met hers. The kiss was hot and deep and not at all what he’d been expecting. His body reacted immediately to the heat that flared between them as their lips tangled, their mouths seeking and finding and seeking again.
She was the first to flick a tongue out and taste him, but he was the one who cupped the nape of her neck and twined his tongue with hers. She stepped back and then back again. He followed, and a moment later, he felt her bump up against a tree. He put his hands out, the rough bark behind her anchoring him. He needed the stability as his head spun and his entire body was screaming for release.
They broke apart, and she leaned forward and kissed the spot just above his cravat and to the left of his jaw. She was tall enough that she had easy access, and he allowed the exploration, even as his body burned hotter. When she reached his ear, she took his lobe in her mouth and bit him lightly. A flash of savage desire ripped through him, and his hands fisted on the tree bark as he fought to gain control.
“Where the hell did you learn that?” he asked, gritting his teeth to maintain composure.
“You didn’t like it?” she asked, but her voice was not full of concern. She knew he’d liked it. In fact, she leaned forward and swirled her tongue over the spot aching from her love bite.
“I thought you were the daughter of missionaries,” he said, sliding his hands over her hips and then up her ribs, pausing just below her breasts.
She sighed. “I’m afraid I’m something of a disappointment to them. There’s a reason they left me behind in Milcroft.”
“Thank God they did,” he said, finding her lips again with his own and kissing her until they were both breathless. “I want you,” he said when they parted.
“I can feel that.” She shifted her hips slightly, and he knew she felt his erection against her belly. “But you sound surprised.”
“Because I didn’t think I could feel like this,” he admitted. “I hadn’t felt anything but numbness in so very long.”
“You just needed a good shake,” she said. “That and people around who care about you.”
She was right. He’d thought secluding himself while he licked his wounds would give him time to recover and heal, but it had only made him feel more isolated and alone. He’d withdrawn further, his injuries multiplying. It was only now, when he’d been forced out into the world and forced to confront the things he disliked—loud noises and people about him he could not see or predict—that he was beginning to reclaim parts of the man he’d been.
“Do you intend to move your hands higher?” she asked. “Or are you just teasing me?”
He realized his hands were still paused just beneath her breasts, his fingers resting on the fabric covering her delicate rib cage. He could feel the light stays she wore, feel the way her breaths came in and out at a rapid pace. “May I?” he asked.
She shook her head and he felt her blow out a breath. “Such a gentleman,” she said in a tone that indicated it was not a compliment. “In all the ways I don’t want you to be. You ask permission to touch me, and yet you have no qualms about pointing a pistol at someone.”
“Clearly, I have forgotten my manners.”
Her lips traced the curve of his jaw, making his breathing increase. “You should forget them again.”