Page 65 of A Potion for Passion

He watched her lips press together impatiently, but she didn’t attempt to escape him. When he sought her eyes, he caught her looking at his mouth, and fought the urge to smile like the wily wolf in the fables.

“You also said you couldn’t live without me,” she told him. “I assume that was because you were three sheets to the wind?”

Good God.What the hell else had he said? He couldn’t remember. This situation did not bode well. He’d either have to seduce Flora to distract her, or pretend he didn’t care for her. And then she’d be hurt.

“I can’t live without this,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her against his chest. “I need to have you here. I need to be able to do this.”

He nuzzled at her neck, then nibbled her ear, and felt her immediate response. His hands came up to her shoulders and he sought her neck again, licking and sucking gently until her bosom heaved and her head fell back.

Good. Things were moving in the right direction.

But then she stiffened and brought her head close to his, trapping his gaze as she whispered, “You said you love me.”

Devil take it!He’d just dug his own grave. Now she’d think she owned him.

“There are so many things to love about you,” he said, hoping the panic wasn’t evident in his voice. “I love the way your hair curls about your face, the peach-softness of your skin, your scent, your hidden passion. I love the way your body feels against mine, the honey surrender of your lips when I kiss you. I want to make love to you, Madame Julietta, right this moment. Every time I see you, I’m consumed with the desire to show you what it is to be loved by me.”

Her lips parted, and her expression softened. Silently, he congratulated himself on having turned the situation around. Lovemaking he understood, and so long as he convinced her that was all he’d meant with his unguarded, drunken utterances, he’d be safe from the suffocating coils of emotional love.

“I’ve tasted you now, Flora,” he said. “You’re like a fine wine. A single taste is not enough.”

“We shouldn’t act on our animal passions,” she said slowly. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“Nothing wrong with animal passion,” he retorted, then leaned down and took the end of her bonnet ribbon between his teeth. He worried it like a dog with a bone—which made her chuckle—then tugged at it until the bonnet came undone and slid to the floor. “If you’ve never tasted animal passion before,” he added, making deft work of the hooks on her pelisse, “you should try it when you get the chance. I’m offering you that chance.”

He hadn’t had a woman in months—none, in fact, since he’d met Flora again. Little wonder his body had roused up so rapidly. He pressed his hips suggestively against her, pinning her with a gaze filled with—he hoped—promise and temptation.

“You’re deplorable, Lawrence,” she said. “I can’t believe the things you’re saying to me. My sister would skin you for a marching drum if she knew what you were up to.”

“Thankfully, she doesn’t, and there’s no reason for you, or the appalling Daniell family, to tell her. Now, sweet, desirable, Miss Hartington, are you determined to make me suffer?”

“Fiddlesticks! You bring your sufferings upon yourself!”

Oh, to hell with it. He was tired of talking. In one swift movement, he stripped off her pelisse, and slid his hands to her buttocks, drawing her up hard against his erection.

She gasped, but his demanding lips covered hers, destroying her defenses in an instant.

She was kissing him back.

Yes! She wanted this too!

He made a growling noise deep in his throat, swept his tongue over her lips, then plunged it into her mouth, licking and tasting in a frenzy of exploration. She responded in kind, her hands clutching his hair, pulling his head down to hers, increasing the pressure of their kiss.

When she cupped his face, he gloried in the feel of her hands’ silken warmth against his skin and knew a desperate need to have them touch other parts of him.

He broke the kiss and took her hands between his. “Enough of the barriers that are between us,” he rasped. “I want to feel your body on mine, naked, flesh against flesh. Are you shocked?”

“No,” she replied, and to his delight, she pulled her hands from his and undid the buttons on his waistcoat.

This was positive, indeed! As soon as he’d shrugged off his jacket and waistcoat, he returned his hands to her delicious posterior, stroking, squeezing, and giving small groans of appreciation. His mind painted him a picture of her sprawling on top of him, completely naked, while he pressed his manhood up between her legs, his hands on her buttocks as she slid back and forth, squeezing him, releasing him, then squeezing him again.

The image was so vivid he almost came then and there.

He was about to kiss her again when something nagged at the back of his mind. He shoved the thought irritably away, losing himself in another burning kiss, but it thrust back at him, more savagely now.

The church clock was striking eleven. He had a meeting with Nathaniel Pryce. The man was bringing him some fine fabrics and lace from the recent wreck to fence and might be spooked if Lawrence was late.

“Oh, God.” Releasing Flora, he tried to control his breathing. “The clock chimes!”