by Joanna Shupe
The clock chimed the half hour and she tried not to fidget as she awaited his reaction. Had she offended him? This was why Mama always told her to be seen and not heard. She was terrible at conversation, especially with the opposite sex.
“Kit, I apologize—”
His head finally swiveled toward her—and her words died in her throat. Dark, hooded eyes stared at her, his expression intense and a little wild. A little dangerous. A thrill ran down her spine and her heart began racing inside her chest.
She didn’t know what he was thinking, but somehow she knew her words hadn’t upset him. In the least.
He liked what I said.
“Alice, I . . .” He dropped his gaze to her mouth. “I really, really want to kiss you right now.”
He seemed perfectly serious and rational, suffering no delusions of any kind that she could tell. Nevertheless, this could not be happening. Men like Kit did not find Alice appealing. “You do?”
“More than any damn thing in the world.”
“Because of what I said?”
“Because of who you are.”
Her breath lodged in her throat but she didn’t move, uncertainty twisting in her belly. Could she do this? Of course she wanted to kiss Kit—what sane person wouldn’t?—but this wasn’t part of what he owed her for the recipes. “You don’t need to kiss me as part of the lessons.”
“I am aware, and this has nothing to do with our bargain. This is because you have me tangled up in knots. I can’t explain it, but it’s like you’re this clever, fascinating puzzle and I need to dig deeper.” He exhaled and leaned closer. “Please let me show you. It’ll be so good, I swear. Better than good, actually.” He placed a hand on her armrest, his body angled toward her. “It’ll be perfection.”
He hovered close but didn’t push her, as if he were waiting for her to meet him halfway, and she was ready. More than ready, in fact. Her blood thickened, heated, with a slow roll of desire unlike anything she’d ever experienced. It was as if a line tethered the two of them together and she had no choice but to close the gap. Still, she did it carefully, so he could revoke the offer if he changed his mind. To her surprise, however, he didn’t speak or pull away.
Indeed, it seemed this was happening.
When their mouths were almost touching, she paused to linger, breathing him in. Anticipating the moment when she would learn what it felt like to be kissed. She licked her lips. “Show me, Kit. Please.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
He bent forward and his mouth met hers with a simple brush of his lips. Fascinated, she watched as he tilted his head and returned for another swipe. He cupped her jaw in his palm. “Close your eyes, Alice. Feel what I am telling you with my mouth—and tell me what you are feeling with yours.”
Oh. So, kissing was like communicating without words.
She let her lids fall shut and sank into the sensations, like the soft press of his flesh against hers, the smell of his soap. The way his exhales gusted over her skin. How his fingers tightened, as if to hold her close. He’s telling me he wants to discover more.
So did she.
Without overthinking the recklessness of what they were doing, she began kissing him back, matching his movements and capturing his mouth in an even exchange. He grunted softly, and she took that to mean she was doing something right. Then he deepened the kiss, with more suction and pressure, commanding their pace, and she could feel him in every part of her body, from the roots of her hair down to her toes. Tingles slid along her legs, in her core, and her pulse throbbed in time with her heartbeat.
He pulled back slightly. “Stop?”
She shook her head once, then returned her mouth to his, not ready for this lesson to end. Kit did not disappoint, kissing her thoroughly, again and again, his lips coaxing and demanding, and her hands drifted to his shoulders, then up to his hair. The strands were soft, like silk, and she was shocked when a faint moan escaped her throat.
The sound must have excited him because he flicked his tongue against the seam of her lips, and she parted them, surprised. He slipped his tongue in her mouth and rubbed it across hers, and she marveled at the intimacy of it. Kit’s tongue is in my mouth. While unbelievable, it felt divine as he stroked and twisted, twining with hers until she did the same. The second she teased his tongue, turning the slightest bit aggressive, he groaned.
“Yes,” he murmured. “More of that, please.”
She complied, needing to explore his mouth as he had explored hers. The kiss went on and she soon forgot where she was and who she was with. She became this wanton creature, a woman chasing her own pleasure and offering pleasure in return, as if they were of the same mind, the same goal. Her skin crackled, excitement humming just under the surface, and she wished he would kiss her everywhere.
When he pulled back, her fingers unintentionally tightened in his hair. Was that it? She panted and tried to drag air into her lungs. “Are we done?”
His mouth twitched. “Do you want to be done?”
“No, not really.”
“Good, because neither do I. May I bring you over here to sit in my lap? It’ll make it easier on my back, but I don’t wish to frighten you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She had no idea he was uncomfortable. “Of course, if it’s easier for you.”
With a seductive smile, he reached over, plucked her from her seat and placed her on his lap. “There. That’s better.” With a hand on the back of her head, he brought her face closer. “Now, kiss me again.”
Chapter Six
Kit paused and waited to see what his little vixen would do. Alice had surprised him time and time again today, so he tried not to move when she inched forward and touched her lips to his once more. God, yes. He relaxed and kissed her back, doing nothing more than enjoying the feeling of having her on his lap, within such easy reach.
She’s a virgin.
He reminded himself of this for what seemed like the hundredth time since they started kissing, like whenever he wanted to whisper dirty words in her ear or slide his hand under her skirts. Which was often. He longed to do all manner of wicked things to this woman, to see how deep her passion ran, to discover what it would take to drive her wild. She’d placed a shell around herself, insisting she was shy, and Kit loved a challenge.
There was nothing shy about her kiss. Her lips were eager, her tongue demanding, and that hint of aggression made him impossibly hard. He kept it as chaste as he could manage, however, telling her how much he wanted her with just his mouth. That, and the erection digging into her backside. She couldn’t be so innocent as to not understand that particular message.
He let his lips drift over her jaw, down her throat, giving her soft kisses and gentle licks. This lesson was certainly more enjoyable than last night’s invasive question and answer session. She tasted sweet and delicate, a forbidden treat he hardly deserved but would savor all the same. To prove it, he lightly sank his teeth into the velvety skin of her throat.
Alice gasped and threw her head back. “Oh.”
“Like that, do you?” He moved to a different spot and bit her gently once more.
Her fingernails sank into his scalp. “Is this what people do? Bite each other?”
“Only if you’re very lucky.”
“I’m serious, Christopher.”
Christopher. Hardly anyone called him that anymore. But the word sounded different coming out of Alice’s mouth, a breathy rush of syllables that nearly blended together to become something new. A secret shared between the two of them.
He wanted to hear it again.
Putting his lips near her ear, he asked, “Who is kissing you?”
“You are.”
“Say my name, Alice.”
“Kit,” she said quietly, almost shyly.
“Wrong. The other one.”
“Christopher,” she breathed.
A sizzle raced along his nerve endings and gathered in his groin. When his cock twitched, she froze. “Wa
s that . . . ?”
“You wanted lessons,” he said, “so now you’ve learned how you affect me. I cannot hide it. You should feel free to ignore it, however.”
“Not certain how that is possible. It feels like a tree trunk.”
He dropped his head onto her shoulder and suppressed a laugh. This woman and his vanity were a match made in heaven.
“Are you laughing at me?”
Sobering, he cleared his throat. “Not at you, per se. More like your descriptions. They are certainly creative.”
“May we return to my question about biting?”
“I am always happy to return to biting.” He demonstrated, nibbling on the skin behind her ear.
She clutched his arm and swayed against him. “Why does that feel so delicious?”
“It does, doesn’t it?” He did it again lower, careful not to mark her. She wriggled on his lap, torturing him with a bit of friction to his poor neglected cock.
“Do you like it, as well?”
He released her and leaned back, offering her his throat. “Try it and find out.”
“Really?” She sounded eager and he bit off a grin.
“Of course. I am at your disposal.”
“Again, this isn’t necessary as part of our bargain.”
This again? He sighed and cupped her nape with his hand to bring her closer. “Will you bite me already?”
She hesitated, even in the face of his encouragement, so he waited. He couldn’t cajole her into doing what he wanted. Victory was much sweeter when earned and not taken.
And Alice was brave—much braver than she believed, in fact. She claimed she was shy, but a shy person did not come looking for help in seducing a husband. A shy person did not speak her mind so freely, or argue with him when she did not agree. She was no doormat, except in the presence of her mother, and someday Kit would get to the bottom of that mystery.
Just when he’d about given up, humid breath drifted over his neck. Her lips touched his skin first, a soft kiss that sent goose bumps darting across his body, and then her tongue followed with a firm swipe. Closing his eyes, he tried not to react. It wasn’t easy, not when lust careened through his veins like a locomotive. He’d been with many partners over the years and never had to employ so much patience. In any other circumstance, he would have carried her over to the bed and begun shedding clothing by now.
But Alice was not a bed partner, and this was not an affair. It would never go beyond this. He would help her with some tips and simple experience in exchange for Franconi’s recipes. Once back in New York, they would never see each other again.
Her mouth stopped right above his collar and the scrape of teeth caused him to shiver. Then she clamped down, biting him harder than he’d expected, and he grunted. The resulting sting sent a jolt through his limbs, straight to his erection. Christ. Then she sucked on his skin as if trying to draw out poison, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. Who’d taught her to do that?
Oh, God. It was torture. Panting, he gripped the armrests of the chair and tried not to thrust his hips as she continued to suck. The pressure of her mouth was exquisite and unrelenting, and he had forgotten how pleasurable this felt. It had been ages since a woman had marked him in such a possessive manner, as if she wanted the world to know he belonged to her. He should stop this, as a bruise on the side of his throat would only invite questions, but no one would ever suspect Alice responsible.
And Kit liked the idea of seeing her stamp on his body for days to come. Next time, he’d have her mark him where no one else could see it.
Next time? He was losing his mind. This could go no further, even if he desperately wanted it to.
She released him and eased back to admire her handiwork. “The skin is very red. Did I hurt you?”
“No,” he wheezed, his body buzzing with craving and need. “Quite the opposite.”
“You enjoyed it.”
“Indeed. Any more enjoyment and I would require a new set of trousers.”
“What? Why?” Her brows pinched in the most adorable way, and he had to remind himself this was all new to her.
“Never mind. Suffice it to say either I am a fabulous teacher or you are a quick study.” He kissed her cheek. “Or both, perhaps.”
“For the record, you are quite good at kissing yourself.”
“Thank you. I am offering up my services any time you’d care to practice.”
“Any time?”
He nipped her jaw with his teeth. “Any time, my dear Alice.”
The offer was a legitimate one. He’d kiss her day or night, in any location she preferred. With other women, there wasn’t opportunity to linger and enjoy their kisses, as he was too busy trying to get them into bed. Kissing had felt like a nuisance, a distraction from more important goals.
Not so when it came to Alice. He could kiss her for hours, sink inside her mouth and drink in her sighs until he was delirious with it. With so much to discover and explore, she would never bore him.
He wasn’t sure what that meant and he didn’t care. At least not right now, with this sweet creature still sitting on his lap.
The clock on the mantel chimed the hour and Alice started. “Oh, no. I must hurry to luncheon. If I am not there and my mother returns . . .”
She didn’t finish the sentence, as if Kit could draw his own conclusions. Yet he didn’t understand the mother-daughter relationship between these two. “If you are not there, then what?”
Alice slid off his lap and smoothed her skirts. He instantly felt the loss of her warm, soft curves. “She’ll assume I am up to no good. Which means she will never let me out of her sight again during this house party.”
“But you are up to no good,” he couldn’t help but point out, his mouth fixed with a smirk.
“Stop annoying me, you devil. Now, do I look a mess?”
She looked fetching and utterly delectable, but her skirts were slightly rumpled and wisps of hair fell in her face. He would be remiss as a clandestine lover if he didn’t point them out. “Come.”
Rising, he brought her into his washroom. Wetting his hands, he smoothed her hair back in place, then used a tiny touch of pomade to hold it. “Better. Let me fix your skirts.”
“Why? Are they horribly creased?” She tried to spin and look over her shoulder, like a dog trying to chase its own tail.
“Stop. I’ll do it.” Dropping to one knee, he reached for her skirts . . . then paused. “I’ll need to start with the petticoats, Alice.”
She shook her head and started tugging fabric. “No, merely pull the outer skirt down.”
He didn’t wish to tell her how much experience he had with ladies’ clothing, but he was absolutely certain her idea wouldn’t work. Stilling her hands, he asked, “Do you trust me?”
Though her eyes were wild with panic, she nodded. “Of course. Would I be standing in your washroom if I didn’t?”
Fair point. “Then let me help you.”
She bit her lip and released her skirts. “All right.”
He reached under the layers of silk and cotton, trying to avoid touching her stocking-covered leg. As much as he’d like to learn every detail of what Alice hid under her skirts, he wouldn’t disrespect her with an uninvited grope. When he found the petticoat, he held it and lifted the other layers up to her. “Here, hold these.”
A blush covered her face and throat, but she didn’t speak as she took the cloth.
Kit worked quickly, smoothing and evening out the plain cotton. When he finished, he took the next layer, a stiffer and fancier petticoat, out of her hands, and evened it out. This was what would give her dress the bell-shaped curve that was all the rage nowadays. Then he straightened the outer skirt. “There. Almost as good as new.”
“Am I still wrinkled?”
He rose and took her face in his hands. “Alice, you’re perfect. Stop worrying.” Unable to help himself, he kissed her again, taking her lips greedily, as if he needed the memory of her mouth to sur
vive the afternoon. She relaxed into him, clutching his wrists and slipping her tongue past his lips. He took it, wasting no time in twining their tongues together, relishing the warm, slick taste of her.
She finally pulled away, both of them gasping for breath. “I need to go.”
Clasping her hand, he led her to the door of his bedchamber and peeked into the corridor. It was empty. “No one is around. It’s safe for you to go.”
“Goodbye,” she whispered, then slipped through the crack and disappeared.
He closed the door and exhaled. All of that had been unexpected . . . and wonderful. Too wonderful, actually. Thank fuck he had time to find his own release before the afternoon’s festivities.
As he locked the door and unfastened his trousers, a thought suddenly occurred. That kiss in his washroom had felt as natural as breathing. He’d looked down at her pretty face and upturned lips and needed to taste them, plain and simple.
So, what on earth did that mean?
An hour later, the guests gathered on the lawn beyond the tennis court. Croquet teams were quickly formed, with the Duke of Lockwood and Mr. Archer each leading a team. Alice wasn’t playing the first round, so she sat near the other young ladies, far away from the chaperones. Far away from her mother.
Kit had opted out of croquet, and he lounged in a chair at the opposite end of the table where he sipped a glass of lemonade. There was a red mark on his neck, just above his collar. She’d left a mark on his skin. A love bite. It was depraved and forbidden, and she found herself smiling every time she thought of that patch of red.
Was it obvious he’d been kissed and bitten there? Would anyone know she’d sucked on his skin until it changed color? Would anyone know that her lower half still throbbed with delicious need?
While the answer was likely no, Alice still avoided her mother’s eye, worried Mama would suspect something just from looking at her. She felt positively transformed by what happened in his bedchamber, like she’d discovered she could play the piano after never once taking a lesson. Like she’d baked a perfect soufflé without ever reading the recipe first.