stretched up, and the sensation created a deep pull of longing she found thrilling. As it also made Hunter go very, very still, she decided to give in to curiosity and brush against him again…and again.
He made a wonderfully masculine sort of noise in the back of his throat, something between a growl and a moan, and his arms tightened, dragging her hard against him.
That was better.
Recalling the kiss in the music room, she hesitantly tasted his lips with her tongue. Hunter responded by spearing his fingers into her hair and slanting his mouth hungrily over hers.
Much better.
He broke away to trail a line of heat across her jaw and down her neck.
Worlds better.
His teeth scraped lightly over a sensitive spot at the juncture of her uninjured shoulder, and suddenly she lost the ability to think, lost the ability to do anything but feel.
There was only the weight of his mouth as it covered hers once again, the glorious slide of his tongue along hers, the heat of his arms banding her close.
He loosened his hold only to mold his hands to her hips and then drag them up over her waist, her torso, the sides of her breasts. Every inch he touched felt hot as his hands moved over her, and hungry for more when they’d passed.
Excitement built in a dizzying rush, until it grew into something else…into need. She needed to be closer. She needed more. She tasted the skin at his jaw, his ear, his neck. Her fingers pulled at his cravat, pushed at his waistcoat.
Suddenly, he broke away, leaving her reeling.
“Enough,” he whispered hoarsely. “Kate, that’s enough.”
It was? Her blood was racing, her breath coming in pants, and every nerve in her body was screaming in protest at the rude interruption of the kiss. “Enough?”
“Yes, you need to go.”
“Go?” She blinked at him slowly, willing her heart toward a normal rhythm. “Why?”
“Because it’s not enough.”
“I…” That incomprehensible bit of logic prompted her to concentrate a little harder on what he was saying and less on what she was feeling. Concentrating wasn’t enough. It still didn’t make sense. “I don’t understand.”
“I want more from you,” he said gruffly. “I want everything. And nothing you should give on a ballroom floor.”
“Oh.” That perfectly comprehensible statement had her biting her lip. “I see.”
“You should go now.”
“I should, yes.” She didn’t want to. As imprudent as it was, she wanted to stay and offer what he wanted. Offer him everything, and take it for herself. Her eyes darted to his mouth. “I should go.”
Oh, but she wanted to stay.
“Now, Kate.” He fairly growled the command.
She pulled her eyes away from his mouth and took a look at all of him. And then she took a step back. Perhaps it would be best to attempt the everything when he was a little less…agitated. The man was practically vibrating. “Right…” She swallowed hard and began a cautious backward retreat. “Right. I’ll just…I’ll just see you at dinner then, shall I?”
He didn’t answer. He just stared at her, his jaw locked tight, his hands curled into fists at his sides…his dark hair mussed where she’d run her fingers through the thick locks. She did so love when his hair was a little mussed. Maybe…
“Go.”
“Right.” She took two more steps backward, then turned around and walked through the door, certain she could feel his burning gaze on her back.
Instinctively, she headed toward her room, then turned back again and walked toward a side door to the house. The change in direction put her in the rather awkward position of having to pass by the open door to the ballroom, where a quick glance told her Hunter was still vibrating, but that couldn’t be helped. She wanted a moment to herself before facing any other guests. She needed to right her appearance and settle her system. But most important, she needed time and space to reconcile what she’d suspected in her mind with what she now knew in her heart.
Somehow, somewhere, between the laughter, and the kisses, and the acceptance of her dreams, Mr. Andrew Hunter had turned into a prince.
Where had he gone wrong?
Hunter stalked across the ballroom to throw open a window. He needed air, and a drink, and possibly a hard punch to the head. What the devil had he been thinking?
He’d had it all planned. Everything, everything had been set to suit his purpose, and his purpose had been to remind himself, and Kate, of who was in control of this