Return of the Scot (Scots of Honor #1) - Eliza Knight Page 0,50
something. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Before Jaime could argue with her clerk, the woman had slipped from the office, closing the door behind her and leaving Jaime alone with Lorne. The silence between them pulsed with energy, likely supplied by both of them. If she was remembering the heated embrace, or even the gentle touch of his fingers on her ankle, was he?
Lorne’s gaze swept over her, taking her in. And the way his lids lowered to half-mast, eliciting that heady, sensual look he’d given her in the gymnasium before he kissed her, was answer enough. He reached forward, his fingertips grazing her—thankfully woolen-sleeved—elbow. Jaime closed her eyes for a fraction longer than a blink, savoring the carress and wishing it away all at once.
In that split-second, Lorne closed the distance between them, the heat of his large body enveloping her. He touched her chin, lifting her face toward his. Gray eyes peered into her own, gauging her interest and seemingly finding it, for he leaned down and joined his mouth to hers.
With his lips fastened on hers, he removed her coffee cup, settling it somewhere, and then his hand pressed to the small of her back, urging her closer until their bodies were flush. The hardness and strength of him lined up to her softer curves. Everything with the duke was exaggerated. His size, his presence, his intensity. And his kiss.
She was melting into him. Losing the resolve she’d set for herself last night, and again this morning. Wanting him to kiss her, to fall into his enchanting, passionate embrace. There was no one here to see—no one to know, except for herself and him, she’d let her guard down. Allowed herself tumbled once more under the luscious spell of a man she’d been captivated by for years. Worshiped him, adored him, hated him…everything him.
Lorne captured her hands in his and placed them on his shoulders. And oh…the breadth of them. Corded muscles bunched beneath the fabric of his doublet. She flattened her palms against him, her fingers spread, and she felt him, studied the swells of hardness that made up his body. Ran her hands down his arms, stopping at his elbows and coursing back up again. As she touched, the feelings inside of her whirled and bucked. Fighting against one another.
Touch him more. Nay, run away. Oh, bother, touch him, kiss him more…
This was a bad idea, and she knew it. Had decided while rushing away from his house less than twelve hours ago that she would not, under any circumstances, allow him to kiss her again. Yet here she was. Thoroughly enjoying it. Life wasn’t fair, she decided. If she’d been a man, she could have enjoyed his kiss for hours, days, again and again, and no one would be the wiser or care. But nay, she was a lass, and lassies weren’t allowed to kiss whoever they wanted when they wanted.
And oh, how she wanted…
His tongue danced provocatively over hers, and she twirled her own inside his mouth, engaging in every bit of teasing and toying and tasting he provided. This naughty duke, full of vigor and deep wounds… His hand slipped down to her rear, tugging her tighter against him, and she gasped at the feel of him touching her in so intimate a place.
What could it hurt to allow herself a few more moments of wicked bliss? Perhaps that was the exhaustion talking. At any rate, it was what she’d blame her deranged thoughts and actions on.
Jaime leaned into him, her fingers threading in his hair.
And he groaned deep in his throat and whispered, “Marry me, please.”
That woke Jaime up. She pulled away from him, her lips tingling, her body on fire. At least this time, he’d added “please.” But no amount of manners—or fiery kisses—were going to change her mind. She was either incredibly intelligent or a great fool, and she didn’t have the mental capacity at the moment to debate herself on that, only to set her foot down.
“I must decline, Your Grace. Ye know a union between us is out of the question. And this,” she pointed between herself and him, “can no’ happen again.” She regretted it even as she declared it. Decided to back up a step for good measure and picked up her coffee as though it were a shield. She took a large gulp, nearly sputtering on the bitterness without cream and sugar.
“That bad, aye?” He chuckled. “Or was that from our kiss?”