by Candace Camp
“How kind of you,” Lilah said drily. “But that hardly explains why you decided to ask me for a waltz.”
“You climbed the stairs, lifting your skirt to keep from stepping on it, and I saw your ankles. You were wearing bright lilac stockings. And I thought, there’s more to her than meets the eye.” He paused, considering. “Besides, you have lovely ankles.”
Lilah gaped at him, then began to laugh. His reasoning was so strange, so very Con-like—flattering, insulting and preposterous all at once—that she couldn’t work up either affront or anger, only a baffled amusement.
“You should do that more often,” Con told her.
“What?”
“Laugh. You look quite beautiful.”
“Oh.” She hoped the darkness concealed her blush. Otherwise, Con would doubtless tease her about it every time they met.
Except, of course, she would not see him now that the wedding was over. Constantine Moreland didn’t typically frequent the sort of parties Lilah attended with her aunt. He preferred more exciting entertainment. Even when they did attend the same function, Con did his best to avoid her. Her life now would return to its usual pattern. Lilah sighed as she thought of the weeks ahead, paying calls and receiving visitors in her aunt’s parlor.
“What is it?” Con asked. When she glanced at him questioningly, he explained, “You sighed just now. Is something wrong?”
“What? Oh. I didn’t realize I had.” Her cheeks, already pink, flamed. “I was, um, just thinking that things would settle back to normal now that the wedding is done.”
“Yes, it will likely be more boring.”
“I didn’t mean that,” she protested. “I meant, it will be quieter. Calmer. But that’s a good thing. One can rest and relax and, um...”
“Embroider handkerchiefs?” Con suggested, raising an eyebrow.
She glowered. “I’m sure there will be nothing so mundane for you. You’ll be off chasing ghosts or seeking the meaning of Stonehenge.”
“Hopefully I’ll find an adventure or two to pass the time.” He grinned down at her. “Here, now, don’t look so grim.” He smoothed his finger over the lines of her frown, then moved to her cheek, lightly skimming a strand of hair that had escaped its pins.
Self-consciously Lilah moved to pin the stray curl back in place, but Con reached out to stop her. “No, don’t. It’s lovely like that.”
“Like what...a mess?” She forced a bit of tartness into her voice to combat the sudden heat his touch stirred in her.
“I doubt that anything about you is ever a mess.” Con stroked his thumb lazily along her cheekbone. His smile was still there, but different now, no longer amused but warm and inviting. There was a look in his eyes very like the way she’d seen Alex gaze at Sabrina. Dark and a little hazy.
Lilah could not pull her gaze from Con’s. Her breath caught in her throat, and her thoughts went tumbling madly. She definitely should not have drunk that glass of champagne.
Con’s hands went to her waist, tugging her a little closer. “Tell me, Miss Holcutt, would you slap me this time if I kissed you?”
Her heart skipped a beat. She should pull away from him. Toss back a sharp set-down for his boldness. But what came from her mouth was only a whispered, “No, I wouldn’t slap you.”
He bent his head, and she closed her eyes, as if she could hide what she was doing from herself. Con’s lips brushed over hers gently...once, twice. She felt his smile against her lips, then his mouth settled onto hers, his arms gliding around her, pulling her into him.
His kiss was slow and easy and thorough, his tongue stealing into her mouth and setting off a firestorm of pleasurable sensations. It was overwhelming, his kiss as dizzying as the champagne she’d drunk. Lilah was flooded with hunger. Urges she’d never imagined roiled inside her. She had no idea what to do, but she wanted to feel more, have more.
Lilah wasn’t aware when she had put her hands on his arms, but now she dug her fingers into the cloth, holding on. It seemed forever, yet was over all too fast. Con raised his head and stared down at her, his expression caught somewhere between amazement and dismay.
Then his arms tightened around her, crushing her into him, and his mouth returned to hers. This time his kiss wasn’t easy, wasn’t gentle, but, shockingly, Lilah welcomed it. She went up on her toes, her arms wrapping around his neck and her lips answering his with abandon. Her heart slammed in her chest, and her very blood seemed on fire. She felt reckless and wild, utterly unlike herself, and it was glorious.
Con’s hands slid down her back, pressing her into him, and his mouth left hers to kiss her cheek, her jaw, her throat. She shivered at the velvety touch on her sensitive skin. Someone moaned softly, and Lilah realized with a start that the sound had come from her. Con kissed his way downward, reaching the hollow of her throat. His tongue teased around the pearl drop there, tracing a circle. Her abdomen flooded with heat.
Masculine laughter came from the door to the ballroom as three men stepped out onto the terrace, chatting among themselves. Lilah froze, the realization of what she was doing stabbing through her haze of passion. Con swung around so that his back was to the men, his body between any onlooker and her.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “They can’t see you.”
“No, no...” she said shakily, pulling back from him. What was she doing? Her hand came up to cover her tingling lips. An entirely different heat flowed through her now. She was behaving like the loosest of women—agreeing to slip out onto the dark terrace, letting him kiss her, more than that, kissing him back! “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t—Goodbye.”
Lilah slipped around him and hurried back into the ballroom.
Don’t miss HIS WICKED CHARM by Candace Camp
Available April 2018 from HQN Books!
Copyright © 2018 by Candace Camp
ISBN-13: 9781488023392
His Sinful Touch
Copyright © 2018 by Candace Camp
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