A Moment of Passion (The Ladies Book of Pleasures)
Page 24
“Tell me,” he insisted.
She sucked in a sobbing breath. “I wanted to remember desire and pleasure and—”
She had more to say, more depths of her soul to mine, but he didn’t allow it. Without preamble, he bent his head and suddenly his mouth was on hers.
For the first few seconds of the unexpected kiss, Isabel was too surprised to react. Her mind raced, overwhelmed by questions and denials and fears about what exactly was happening to her.
But then Seth’s lips shifted ever so slightly, his tongue traced the crease of her mouth, and that subtle movement changed everything.
Isabel melted. She’d heard others describe a kiss that melted them before, but this was the first time she’d ever experienced it personally. It was as if her bones liquefied, her blood burned, her muscles vanished and all that was left was feeling. Pleasure washed over her so intensely that it overrode anything else in her mind.
Without meaning to, Isabel lifted her hands, tightening her fingers around Seth’s upper arms and leaning into him to get more. More of this feeling, more of his taste and his scent as their bodies brushed against each other.
His seductive rhythm calls to the passionate soul hiding within…
Bellissima
© 2014 Anya Richards
Jane Rollins is anything but plain, but to keep her position as housekeeper to a wealthy family, she is content to hide her beauty behind a dull façade. This deception has become second-nature to her—until dance master Sergio Fontini waltzes into her life.
While the other inhabitants of the house see him as a foreigner and beneath their notice, Jane sees strength, barely leashed power, and an aura of iron control—an irresistible, arousing combination.
Sergio sees through Jane’s disguise to the woman beneath, and the desires in her veiled gaze call to him like the utterly irresistible strains of a beautiful symphony. The circumstances couldn’t be worse, for seducing her will endanger both their livelihoods.
Yet there are lessons he cannot resist teaching her, steps of a dance that crescendos to her final surrender…
Warning: A deliciously seductive Italian unmasks a supposedly respectable Victorian woman and leads her into a lust-filled pas de deux.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Bellissima:
Slowly Sergio slid his palms from her lap to her knees, and then rippled his fingers along the crisp fall of her skirt down to the floor, knowing she’d feel the brush of the fabric against her legs. Still watching her face, he covered the arches of her feet with his hands to lightly squeeze the leather of her shoes.
“Trim feet, which signifies nothing,” he said. “There are many larger ladies with the tiniest of feet.”
“You are a connoisseur of ladies’ feet, signor?”
Jane’s voice lacked its usual crispness and wavered slightly. Sergio allowed the edges of his lips to quirk upward as he replied, “I have been known to pay…particular attention to that part of a lady’s body, Mrs. Rollins.” He rolled the words out in a low, suggestive murmur, and her lashes fluttered. Yet her expression remained closed, only the darkening of her eyes telling the true story of her emotional reaction to his licentious implication.
Raising his hands, he cupped her ankles, which were also encased in the leather of her serviceable high-topped boots.
“Again, the ankles tell me nothing. I must seek higher for the answers I require.”
As he spoke, Sergio traced the tops of Jane’s boots, brushing the worsted stockings covering her calves with the sides of his index fingers. Her legs shifted, the scuff of her soles on the floor unnaturally loud in the quiet room. Beyond these four walls, the world continued apace, and no doubt there were other folk indulging in waltzes of earthy delight similar to the one he and Jane danced. Yet Sergio was sure no other could want it more, be more enthralled than he was at this very moment, as he slid his hands over Jane’s linen drawers and caressed the gently trembling limbs.
“Slim and lovely,” he growled, twisting his hands around the shapely contours of her lower legs. Crushing the linen beneath his hands, he explored the creases behind her knees with the tips of his fingers. “As I suspected they would be. And yet…” Letting the words trail away, he brought his palms to rest on her shins, began a slow, intent-filled upward journey toward her knees.
The soft flush on Jane’s cheeks deepened, and she took a deep breath as though attempting to gather her control. “And yet, what, signor?”
Breathy, far from her usual cool tones, her voice almost made him groan. The desire twisting through his blood, quickening his heart and tightening his muscles rose incrementally higher at the sound, and he raked the lust back, bringing it to manageable levels before he replied, “And yet, madam, it is the thighs that speak most succinctly about a woman’s true size.”
“Is that so, signor?”
“Indeed, it is, madam. Believe me when I say so.”
“Why would I believe you, signor?” She lifted her chin slightly, but there was apparently no mastering the liquid, yearning cadence of her tone. “Is this another area in which you are particularly versed?”
Her legs were set primly together, and now, with his hands firmly on her knees, Sergio urged them apart, keeping the pressure steady, unrelenting. In tiny, seemingly reluctant increments, they parted, wider and wider, until the outsides of her thighs pressed against the wooden uprights holding the arms of her chair aloft. Jane’s breath hitched, but Sergio didn’t move, simply held her there, open and vulnerable, as he looked deep into her now storm-gray eyes.
“Would it please you if I were, Mrs. Rollins?”
She tried to make a sound of derision, but it came out more like a gasp. “Why would I care about your interests in such a matter, Signor Fontini?”
Slowly, deliberately, he licked his bottom lip, a rush of delight and triumph heating his belly when her gaze dropped to follow the motion and remained on his mouth as he replied, “Wouldn’t you want to know that I am capable of appreciating a woman’s most tender and delicate areas? That I am willing—no, eager—to treat those delectable parts of a woman’s body with all the care and concentration they deserve?”
Jane’s eyelids drooped, and a fine sheen of perspiration made her face glow. At the base of her throat, just above the high, puritanical closure of her dress, a racing pulse was clearly visible. Beneath her skirts, heat rose from her skin to almost sear his palms, and the trembling of her legs grew stronger. No words passed her slightly parted lips, but she was unable to control the little gasp she made each time she exhaled.
She was deliciously, audaciously aroused, and the sight was almost more than Sergio could bear. How simple a thing it would be to toss her skirts up, sink into her, find release in her depths. Yet, that would be tantamount to a symphony unfinished, a measure tread only partway through and then abandoned. No. Oh no. This was only the beginning, and they had a far, far way to go before he would consider their encounter satisfactorily complete.
Swallowing against the roughness in his throat, he asked, “So, what will I find, Mrs. Rollins? Soft, pillowy thighs? Or trim, firm ones? It matters not to me either way. What does matter is that you tell me, Mrs. Rollins. For if you make me have to find out for myself…”
Once more he let his voice trail away, leaving the threat unsaid, letting her imagination supply the forfeit. It was one more step to be learned in their intimate dance, for how she responded would tell him much. Would she give in, answer the question herself and take the quick path to pleasure he offered? Or would she, as he thought she might, be difficult, leaving him no choice but to discipline her into submission?
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Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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A Moment of Passion
Copyright © 2014 by Jess Michaels
ISBN: 978-1-61921-997-7
Edited by Amy Sherwood
Cover by Cora Graphics
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First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: October 2014
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