the noise from the fireworks, he seemed to hear her. “Jess?”
“I said I wanted to move slowly.”
“I remember.”
She took a breath. “I very much want to kiss you. And I hope you very much want to kiss me.”
He moved to face her, his expression intent on her alone. “I do not very much want to kiss you.”
“Oh.” She didn’t often give in to tears, but at that moment, as his rejection cut deeply, her vision swam. Embarrassment choked her as she tried to calculate how to escape the group and get herself home immediately, without money or a carriage.
“I need to kiss you.”
Chapter 12
Noel looked down at Jess, her face illuminated by the fireworks. Sharp hunger tore into him, the desire in her eyes stoking his need higher, until he was certain he could flare like one of the rockets overhead—exploding into light and color.
“You do?” She didn’t speak above a whisper, yet even with the noise of the fireworks so terrific, he heard her.
He stepped closer, so that there was barely any space between them. Her warmth encircled him.
“It’s all I think about,” he growled. “Going slowly has been an exercise in exquisite torture.” His voice was rough as gravel as he spoke. “I keep looking at your mouth and wondering if your taste will be sweet or spiced, or perhaps a bit of both.”
“I don’t know how I taste,” she breathed. “I want you to find out.”
She tipped her face up as he stroked his thumb along her cheek. Her gaze went heavy lidded as he swept his thumb across her lips. He caught the floral scent of arrack on her breath, heard how her breath came in shallow rasps, saw the desire cut into her features.
They swayed into each other, until they pressed close. He growled at the feel of her, soft and feminine, against his taut body.
He cupped the back of her head with his hand, overwhelmed with a heady mixture of desire and tenderness—the need to claim, the need to protect.
He angled her so that their lips aligned. Her breath came faster, and faster still.
“Tell me you want this,” he rumbled. “Tell me you want this as much as I do.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll stop.”
He started to move away, but she gripped his shoulders. “Don’t. Don’t stop. I want this. For me.”
She lifted up onto her toes as he lowered his head and their lips touched, softly. They took small, exploratory sips of each other, discovering what it meant to finally yield to the desire that had built and built until it could no longer be denied.
The kiss deepened. She opened to him and his answering hunger surged. The stroke of her tongue against his coursed through his entire body, lighting torches in his muscles, his cock.
He was afire as she clung to him. Her breasts pressed snug to his chest, and his free hand cupped her waist to urge her closer.
She gasped in response as he dragged his lips from hers to scratch his teeth along her neck. He would devour her. She dug her nails into his back, stoking his hunger even higher and hotter.
“Yes,” she breathed. “More.”
“Goddamn it, Jess.” He bit her hard just where her neck curved to her shoulder, then soothed the sting with his tongue.
He slid his hand higher up, skimming over her waist and along her back, until it rested just beneath the curve of her breast. Yet he did not go farther, a silent question as to whether or not she wanted more. She angled her body, fitting her breast into his palm, and he snarled in approval. His hand covered her, stroking her. He brought his fingertips to her nipple and rubbed it into a tight point.
She gave another pleasured gasp.
“Wanted this,” he said in a voice so low it was subterranean. “You. In my arms. Wanted to feel you writhe against me, hear you moan.” He lightly pinched her nipple and she rewarded him with the moan he’d desired.
She felt delicious, a gorgeous collection of curves swathed in silk. He’d been struck by the color of her gown tonight, as golden as the sun, and with her just as dazzling within it. Now he wished the fabric would melt away beneath his hands, leaving her bare.
A man and woman’s laughter sounded close by.
She tore herself from his embrace. He needed her back in his arms, her mouth against his, but he had to respect the distance she’d put between them.
“We can’t . . .”