A shy, yet radiant smile accompanied the flaming blush that swept Liliana’s face, and for a moment Geoffrey thought he would lose his resolve to remain, in practice at least, a gentleman. A plan was forming in his mind, but he could not act on it until he’d had time to consider it fully without the influence of lust that currently dominated his every thought.
“Yet, I cannot,” he said as gently as he could. “I have too much respect for you to allow you to throw away your maidenhood, which by all rights should belong to your husband.”
Liliana frowned, her eyes turning downward. “But I’ve already told you—”
He held up a hand. “I know, but you might yet change your mind. In fact—” Geoffrey stopped himself from saying the words aloud, but he could not halt them in his head. In fact, I hope that you will. He stepped forward, Familiarizing hers to his touch cupping his hand around her cheek. “I cannot do anything that will take that choice away from you. That would make me the worst sort of man,” he whispered, staring deep into her eyes. “A dishonorable one.”
She dropped her head, the weight of it resting in his hand. He caressed her cheek, drawing his thumb lightly over its surface before drawing it over her lips.
“But neither can I deny us both what we want,” he murmured.
Liliana brought her head up, her eyes contracting with confusion, with shame and with something that looked suspiciously like hope.
“I will show you some of what you wish,” Geoffrey said, knowing he shouldn’t say it but unable to keep the words inside. “But only so far. I will not allow us to do anything irreparable.” Yet even as the words left his mouth, Geoffrey was afraid that what they began was already irreversible. “And we will take it slowly.”
In answer, Liliana turned her lips to his thumb, which was still absently caressing her, and kissed it. Geoffrey closed his eyes, unable to watch the incredibly erotic kiss.
“Do you agree?” he said.
“Yes,” her voice reached his ears. He opened his eyes. Liliana looked as mesmerized as he felt.
“Good,” he said roughly. “Because I’m going to kiss you now, properly, as I should have from the first.”
He leaned toward her, gently pulling her to his lips. His heart leapt when she leaned in to meet him on her own.
The first touch of her lips on his nearly brought a moan from his still tight throat. It was as if the stricture was melting at her touch, allowing him to breathe in fully of her, her scent, her being.
Her lips were warm, tentative, as if she feared showing her passion lest he call a stop to her experimentation. He tightened his grip on the back of her neck, caressing, massaging as he moved his lips lightly from side to side. Familiarizing hers to his touch, showing her that he could be gentle, too. He could feel the puffs of her breath on his face, becoming shorter, faster. Hell, at least she could breathe.
When he could stand it no longer, he tilted his head and fitted his mouth to hers. He brought his hand back to her face and put enough pressure on her chin with his thumb to get her to open her mouth. As his tongue swept inside, he returned his hand to her neck, holding her as close to him as he could.
She moaned, welcoming him, yet he sensed she still held herself back. That was fine with him. He didn’t know if he could handle it if she didn’t. He tried to keep the kiss light—tried to contain the force of his own passion that he struggled to keep leashed. He stroked her tongue with his, long strokes, short ones. Exploring her, savoring her as he hadn’t had time to during their previous, heated kisses. He’d expected her to taste of lemon, but it was apples and honey that came to mind, tart yet sweet. Her taste was as contrary as the woman herself.
When she finally allowed her tongue to stroke his, the leash slipped. He gathered his arms around her, lowering them to the soft grass on their knees. He maneuvered to his backside, then brought his left hand around her back and slipped his right under her knees to gather her into his lap, never breaking the kiss. When he had her settled, he brought both hands to cup her face, deepening his kiss, ravenous for her.
He’d been so tempted to settle her astride him, as he’d imagined ever since seeing her galloping astride on horseback. Her cotton shirt and breeches would be a paltry barrier between them, and the urge to feel her breasts against his chest, her warmth pressed against his arousal with only the thin cotton between them, was almost irresistible. But then he would be breaking the very rules he’d just set.
Besides, there was always later.
Geoffrey admitted, the moment she touched her tongue to his, there would be a later with this woman. She made him feel things…His passion-charged mind couldn’t fully comprehend it, but despite his claims to the contrary, he knew. Knew he would have to have her.
He broke the kiss, gasping for breath. He was still caressing the side of her neck when she lifted her chin, struggling for her own breath. His lips immediately found the pulse point at her neck, his tongue darting out to feel the beat of her heart against him. He ran his mouth down to the hollow of her throat as his hand trailed over her collarbone to her chest, cupping a full breast in his hand.
Her low moan brought his lips back up to hers in a drugging kiss—he didn’t want her to surface from her sensual haze yet. He knew they couldn’t remain in the open like this, yet he wasn’t ready to let go. He gently squeezed her breast, sweeping his thumb across her nipple, feeling it tighten beneath the cotton of her shirt.
She moved restlessly in his lap. It was his turn to groan as the globes of her bottom brushed against his arousal. He was quickly losing control. He dragged his lips from hers. He could not, would not take her here, not now, after he’d just told her he wouldn’t dishonor her. He had to think, get some perspective.
He tucked his face into the side of her neck, trying to calm his breathing. Her breast was still cupped in his hand, nipple straining against his palm. He slid his hand gently down her side to settle on her waist. It took supreme effort to remain still, not to touch her, to let her regain her composure.
Liliana lifted her head, her eyes direct. “Is it always like this?” she asked, her voice a breathy sound that stroked him as surely as if she’d touched him. “This…” She pressed her lips together and her brows dipped, and Geoffrey knew her innocence struggled to find the words for how she was feeling. “This overwhelming, gnawing ache inside?” She smoothed her palm down her center, settling it low on her stomach.
Geoffrey shook his head. It had never been like this for him before. Ever. “No,” he whispered. “This is something special.”
She gave a slow nod of comprehension, never looking away from him.
She was something special. What she made him feel was something special. Something he’d never before even wanted to feel but now was beginning to suspect he didn’t want to live without.
Geoffrey held her in his lap a moment longer, loath to lose the weight and warmth of her. Then he helped her to rise, to right herself. As they restored their appearances and gathered the horses, Geoffrey’s mind was awhirl, and though it circled quickly, he didn’t doubt what he was thinking. His instincts had proven to be solid throughout his life, and they were telling him one thing emphatically.