Something in his tone warmed her heart. Peculiar, how the very notion of being the object of this man’s desire sent a little thrill racing to the pit of her stomach. By all rights, the idea should have triggered precisely the opposite emotion. But no, the thought of being held by him…of being kissed and caressed and loved by him…ah, the images that gentle burr in his deep voice unleashed. Such a sweet, wicked warmth.
But she couldn’t let on. Extracting herself from his hold, she pressed her lips together, prim as she could muster. A miracle, that, given those same lips still tingled in anticipation of his kiss.
“A finer compliment I’ve seldom received,” she managed, keeping her tone stiff as starched linen.
“Ye haven’t asked me where I’ve stored the book,” he said softly.
“What purpose would the question serve? I can only trust you’ve protected it well.”
“I’ve locked it away in the safe. Serena will examine it on the morrow.”
“Serena?”
“My sister. Ye won’t find a more skilled sleuth.” Pride infused his tone. “If there’s a secret hidden in those pages, she’ll be the one to find it.”
“I suppose I should take comfort in that,” Johanna said.
“She won’t do anything to detract from its true worth. Ye’ve my word on that.”
Johanna gave him a nod, then turned to the door. “I can find my way back to my chamber.”
Connor reached for her. “Not so fast.” He drew her into those iron-hewn arms. “There’s one more thing.”
“And what might that be?”
He smiled, warm and inviting. “This.”
And then, his lips were touching hers. Softly, tenderly, he kissed her.
Kiss? The word was too tame. Far too mild to describe the blazing, knee-wobbling contact. Slow. Gentle. Deliberate. Yet so utterly powerful, staking a claim to her unlike any she’d ever experienced. Ribbons of heat unfurled deep within. Closing her eyes, she melted into the caress.
Into his arms. Into his possession. A soul-deep surrender. Wanting him so completely, she knew she’d never be the same.
He cupped her face between his hands. The rough texture of his fingertips was oddly delicious, stirring her awareness. This was a man who knew precisely how to stoke her hunger with the merest touch.
“Tell me to let ye go,” he breathed against her mouth, pure need flavoring his plea. “I’ll leave ye then. Untouched, beyond this.”
No. Such a tiny word. One small syllable.
If only she could muster the strength to utter that simple word, the word that would turn him away and leave her heart unscathed.
“No,” she whispered finally. “Don’t stop. Not tonight.”
Chapter Eighteen
Johanna drank in Connor’s healthy male essence. Traces of natural musk. The subtle aroma of Pears soap. Slight hints of fine whisky. She immersed herself in the vitality and fire of this powerful man. A man capable of great violence, yet a touch so very tender, her knees went weak.
He ducked his head to claim her mouth. Her lids lowered, and she gave in to her body’s yearning. She needed this moment in time. She needed Connor’s touch and his nearness and the heady sensation of his lips pressed to hers. Giving. Taking. Savoring her just as she delighted in him.
Ah, but his kiss was sumptuous. Heaven and purgatory, fused into one luscious caress. How could something so wrong…so very wanton…feel so utterly, ridiculously perfect? Had she been born to crave his heated touch?
“Ye’re beautiful,” he whispered against her lips. “More beautiful than a man like me deserves.”
He claimed her mouth again. Smooth, like velvet, that kiss. Decadent passion and devastating tenderness, interwoven in his touch. Her eyes fluttered shut once more, even as his hands glided over her arms, settling at the curve of her hips. Odd how this man’s heat scorched her even through thick flannelette.
His tongue darted through a tiny gap between her lips. With a sigh, she opened for him, inviting his exploration. Each velvet touch awakened more longings, more desires she’d kept buried for so very long.
His arms slid around her, bringing her close. So very close, she felt as if her body had melded to his. His desire had taken a physical form, tangible and demanding and maddeningly tempting. A sweet, warm hunger churned within her, spreading to the tips of her fingers, the ends of her toes. Every cell in her body wanted this.
Wanted him.
His large hands cupped her bottom. Pressing her to his body. Cradling his arousal. A shiver of anticipation threaded through her. The iron-hard length of him left no doubt of his need. Emboldened by her hunger, she intensified the contact, deepened the connection. What would it be like to harbor that unyielding length? To take this man within her body and devour every nuance of unfettered desire?
A desperate, inborn need pleaded to take what he offered. The potent desire brewed deep and dark. His touch was tempting and seductive beyond all reason. His possession would be sweet. So very delicious, she doubted she would ever taste such passion again outside of his arms.
If only she could indulge this hunger.
If only…
She’d delight in this brief tenderness. If only for a few stolen moments.
His cheek brushed hers. Stubble grazed her skin. Rough. Gritty. Yet oddly sensuous, that feel of whiskers against her smooth female skin.