Mr Sloane seemed to find something amusing. “We have all the room we need.” He reached for her hand and pulled her close. “Relax. A kiss is nothing more than a physical expression of admiration.”
“Yes.” Lord! Her stomach twisted into knots.
“Begin when you’re ready,” Mr Golding instructed.
“Well, Miss Hart, it’s time to satisfy my burning curiosity.” Mr Sloane’s sensual voice had her heart thundering in her chest. “Time for you to convince me why we should marry.”
Vivienne mustered every ounce of courage she possessed. How could she make the kiss memorable when he had locked lips with a host of skilled women? While Mr Sloane had experienced more than his share of carnal pleasure, had anyone ever kissed him like they cared? A man who had never known a mother’s love deserved to feel genuine tenderness.
Vivienne looked up into the emerald pools that made her knees weak. Without family, with no one to love him, he must feel dreadfully lonely.
She tugged off her glove, reached up and cupped his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, stroking her thumb gently back and forth.
He closed his eyes briefly. “For what?”
“For understanding I’m not like other women.”
“You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met.”
Vivienne smiled. “I shall take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant as such.”
Heat swirled in her stomach. “Lower your head, Mr Sloane, else I shall be forced to tug on your expertly knotted cravat.”
“I rather like the idea of you ruffling my clothes, Miss Hart.”
Brazenly, she tugged his starched neckcloth. “Then be prepared to be crumpled,” she teased, though her confidence abandoned her the second he bent his head.
His warm mouth met hers, the mere brush of his lips turning her insides molten. She felt instantly connected, desperately drawn to him in ways she couldn’t explain—drawn to taste the man whose honey-smooth voice made her damp between the thighs.
His magnetic pull was so strong she wound her arms around his neck, melting into him, moving her mouth in the slow, melding motion that proved highly addictive. Somehow he coaxed her lips apart. Kissed her open-mouthed. Somehow he fired an urgency deep in her core. Stole the breath from her lungs.
Vivienne pulled away, panting, desperate for more. “Is that … that enough to satisfy Mr Golding?”
Hunger burned in Mr Sloane’s hypnotic green eyes. “Perhaps we might be more persuasive.”
Mr Sloane did not bother consulting the lawyer mumbling in the background. Instead, he coiled his arm around her waist like the devil’s tail, a means of drawing an innocent maiden into his inner sanctum, tempting her to sin, sin, sin again. His lips captured hers in a scorching embrace, searing her with his mark, branding her, ruining her for mortal men. Not that she could ever imagine kissing someone else like this—with raw, unbridled lust.
The first strokes of his tongue set her body ablaze. But he withdrew the pleasure, left her mouth empty, so empty she ached for the return of the wicked organ. Longed for it. Craved it. Yet he continued kissing her, continued rolling his hips against hers in a primal dance that left her sex feeling just as empty, just as deprived. And then he slipped his tongue deep into her mouth, so deep she couldn’t help but moan, moan as he drove her wild with every erotic plunge, moan as he fondled every wet corner.
Lord have mercy!
The need to hike her skirts to her waist, to have him wedged between her thighs, proved maddening. It didn’t help that beneath his burning passion she sensed the chill of loneliness. A loneliness she felt compelled to ease.
Mr Golding cleared his throat. “Yes, that should suffice.”
But Mr Sloane did not release her from this carnal claiming.
The lawyer banged on the desk. “I’m perfectly satisfied, sir.” He raised his voice. “Mr Sloane! I can find no objection to your marriage!”
Like a bucket of ice-cold water, the last word doused passion’s flames. Mr Sloane dragged his lips from hers, yet his heated gaze held her captive. A slow smile tugged at his mouth. Oh, he appeared more than pleased with himself.
“Did you hear me?” Mr Golding croaked. “I said I am perfectly satisfied, sir.”
“That makes two of us, Golding.” Mr Sloane withdrew his arm from Vivienne’s waist, though she feared she would struggle to stand unaided. “It’s clear we have no issue conveying our affection.”
Mr Golding dabbed his brow with his handkerchief. “No. No issue at all.”