Page 29 of It's a British Christmas

He cupped her chin, and brushed his thumb over her lips, his eyes darkened with desire. “What are you saying?”

Indeed. What was she saying? Was she prepared to be bedded and discarded? Could her heart take the blow? She needed to flee from this room, this man. Run as far away as she could from him and the power he held over her. Her newly formed plan to leave after Christmas must stay foremost in her mind.

Then she made the mistake of gazing into those passion-filled eyes, and inhaled deeply, opting for honesty. “I’m not sure. I’ve never felt this way before, and I don’t know what to make of it.”

He took both of her cold hands into his warm ones. “Are you aware of what I’m asking of you?”

She nodded. It was too easy to get lost in the way he looked at her. Her inner voice urged her to leave. Quickly.

His mouth took hers hungrily and she surrendered. Whatever this man wanted from her would be his. She could no longer fight it, either. The passion he elicited was more powerful than all the brandy she could consume.

He ran his hands over her back, massaging, kneading her flesh. He pulled away, and leaned his chin on the top of her head, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Tell me no now, and I will let you go. Or yes, if you wish this as much as I do.” He tilted her chin up.

She hesitated only a moment. “Yes.”

He swept her into his arms and strode to the door. Merry buried her face into his chest, inhaling deeply the scent that was only Penrose. Leather, brandy, and Bay Rum.

Blood pounding in his ears, Penrose sprinted up the stairs. He made short work of the distance to Merry’s room. He shifted her in his arms to open the door, then closed it with a swift kick of his foot. Thank God his mother slept like the dead and wouldn’t hear them.

Merry slid down his body, every delectable inch of where their bodies touched setting him on fire. He was drunk on her nearness, scent, and warmth, overwhelming him like no other woman in his life. She shuddered, reminding him he held an innocent in his arms.

He kissed her first with his eyes, then slowly with his mouth, nibbling at her lips. Her slight moan sent all his blood to the one place in his body he wanted to join with hers.

Merry slid her palms up his chest and held onto his shoulders as if anchoring herself. He prodded her lips with his tongue, and she opened, allowing him to sweep her sherry-flavored mouth. He leaned back. “I want to see you.”

She drew in a breath, drawing his glance to her full breasts, the nipples prominent against her gown. Quickly his nimble fingers untied the back of the garment, drawing it down her shoulders. Two perfect orbs, their surging peaks barely hidden behind a linen chemise, dried up all the moisture in his mouth.

“You don’t wear stays?”

She shook her head slightly, a slight smile gracing her lips. “No.”

“What am I to do with you, Miss Chambers?” he murmured against her forehead.

She drew back and regarded him with half closed eyelids, her voice deepened with desire. “Take me to bed?”

With no idea how sensuous she sounded, she’d almost brought him to his knees. He released the grip he had on her gown and it hit the floor in a rustle of fabric. A flick of his fingers, and the straps of her chemise slid down her arms. He sucked in a breath at the creaminess of her skin, the pouting of her rose-colored nipples.

Gently he eased her onto the bed, stretching out alongside her. He fondled one generous breast, its nipple marble hard. When she arched her back in response to his touch, his tongue licked a path from her neck to nip at the rosy peak. She drew in a sharp breath as he suckled.

He shifted his head to nuzzle and kiss her other breast. “I love your response to me.” He eased up on his elbow and tucked a loose tendril behind her ear. “I don’t want to frighten you, sweetheart. Do you know what will happen?”

“I think so. Will it…will it hurt?”

Penrose ran his fingertips over her forehead, down her cheek to her chin. “Since you are an innocent, it will hurt a bit at first. But then I assure you, the pleasure that awaits you will more than make up for it.”

“Why am I the only one with no clothes on?” The mirth in her eyes eased his concern about her fears.

“I’ll correct that situation right now.” He stood and tugged his shirt from his breeches.

Merry’s eyes widened at the sight of the bulge in the front of Penrose’s breeches. Then her gaze drifted up to his chest where he’d unbuttoned his white linen shirt and pulled it over head head. Her breath hitched and her stomach slid to her feet. All that golden skin, with lightly feathered dark hair down the center, leading to a place below his waist like an arrow. She didn’t realize she’d licked her lips until she heard his groan.

“Don’t do that, or this will be over before it starts.” His voice sounded strained.

Her eyelids snapped open and she stared at his flushed face. A sense of power rushed through her to know she could wring such a response from this confident, arrogant man.

He stared at her for a moment before shoving his breeches down.

Oh my God. That will never fit!