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He gave a soft huff of laughter. “I can’t call a woman I’ve kissed Lady Norwood.”

“Ki…” She gulped for air and told herself to put this impudent fellow in his place. “But you haven’t.”

“I’m getting ahead of myself.” His other large hand cupped the back of her head. Heat sizzled through her, stole what little air remained in her lungs. “You must forgive me.”

Why the devil didn’t her legs work? One might almost imagine she stood here and agreed to let Sir Charles kiss her. “I won’t forgive you if you kiss me,” she whispered.

She saw he didn’t believe her denials. Why would he? She certainly didn’t. The shameful truth was that if he didn’t kiss her in the next second, she’d shatter into a million pieces.

“It will be worth it.” His face was now so near that his breath whispered across her lips like a promise of the kiss to come.

The teasing delay was torture. She forgot everything except her need to feel that clever, sensual mouth on hers. Even if she was damned for it.

She couldn’t contain a choked sound of yearning.

Of course he heard the incoherent desire in the whimper. His brown gaze flared gold, then her eyes fluttered closed as his lips touched hers. With a sigh, she arched into him and parted her lips.

His mouth was hard and purposeful, and the masterful contact shook her to the soles of her feet. She’d expected gentleness because he was a kind, considerate man, a civilized man. But he kissed her as if he wanted to devour her.

Sally made a muffled sound of astonished delight and kissed him back with every ounce of secret longing in her heart.

His arms lashed around her, crushing her to him. When she’d stared into his eyes, she thought she’d come close to drowning. She’d had no idea. A towering wave of sensual enjoyment overwhelmed her, destroyed all capacity for thought, banished fear of scandal, made her a slave to her clamoring senses.

His hands moved up and down her back, and he tugged her against him so she felt the hammer blows of his heartbeat. She also became aware of his blatant arousal.

His unabashed desire excited her, fed her own desire. Shamelessly, she pressed into him. On a surge of excitement, she dug her fingers into his head to deepen his kiss.

She couldn’t bear for this to end. She couldn’t bear to go back to being lonely and unwanted.

Charles wanted her. She could have no doubt of that. His tongue swept into her mouth, making her moan in welcome. The next time he did that, she tentatively met him, fluttering her tongue against his.

He groaned and gathered her higher, cradling her between his thighs, making no secret of his need. Her core ached for that hard weight to fill her, pound into her, claim her as his.

With a groan, he staggered forward until her back hit the wall. She gasped into his mouth, and he raised his head to look at her.

Perhaps even then, if she hadn’t met his eyes, she might have doused the conflagration building between them. If she’d seen a trace of triumph in his face, she’d have found the strength to pull back.

But what she read in his expression sliced straight to her yearning heart. He looked tender and desperate and eager.

She knew he asked her a question. However silently. A question that flew in the face of her duty, and her virtue, and all her plans for the future.

Staring up into his face, her only answer could be yes.

She summoned a shaky smile and ran one hand from his shoulder to where his heart thundered with desire for her. “Charles…”

When he heard her say his name, his lips curved in an answering smile that brought out those beguiling dimples. He touched her cheek with a tenderness that matched the tenderness in his eyes.

This time, in his kiss, she felt reverence as well as hunger. Sally’s husband, the only other man to touch her carnally, had never treated her as if she was anything special. Charles was shaking with need. The last vestiges of her resistance melted away to nothing.

When Charles stroked her breast, she made a husky sound of encouragement.

“Lovely.” His thumb flicked a nipple beaded with arousal.

A searing thrill ripped throug

h her and stoked that restless, heavy feeling between her legs. “Yes, lovely,” she sighed.

Charles placed his other hand on the wall near her head and kissed her again. This time his kiss was sweet. At least at first.


Tags: Anna Campbell Dashing Widows Romance