“I cannot tell you how many times I’ve wished to do this.” As if proving his point, he captured her lips once more, searing them with his affectionate kiss.
He withdrew as she leaned in, chasing his kiss, then allowed himself to be quickly caught, meeting her with joyful enthusiasm.
She withdrew slightly, her lips warm and swollen from his tender assault. “I was a bit forward.”
“Thank God,” he muttered and kissed her once, as if punctuating his prayer. “I wasn’t sure my pursuit would be welcome, or if even proper—”
“I rather think propriety has escaped us for the moment,” she interrupted with a disbelieving tone.
He laughed, rich and deep and alluring against her neck as he placed a lingering kiss just below her ear. His breath tickled her sensitive skin, sending shivers of need through her blood. Warm hands enveloped hers, reminding her of the absent gloves. The sensation of his skin caressing hers nearly left her as impacted as the kiss.
“It would seem so. But I’m finding it rather difficult to be properly chastised about it.” He squeezed her hand, then glanced down as if realizing her fingers were bare. Lifting a hand, he kissed it tenderly, his focus never shifting from hers. Goose bumps erupted on her arm, sending delicious shivers up her back and inducing a craving for more.
“I as well,” she answered.
He lowered her hand and tugged her closer, his lips hovering above hers. Her thoughts were immediately lost among the millions of blissful sensations his kisses along her jawline sent through her. He paused, and her body immediately missed his artful seduction of her neck.
Her eyes flickered open and met his, her senses sharpening as she noted the clear intent in his expression. She could see it, the honor rising to the surface above the desire. Quin couldn’t ignore it for long. He was too loyal, too much the gentleman to not make things right.
It was one of the many things she adored about him.
His green eyes were fixed on hers as he grasped her hands. “I promise I’ll do a proper job of this later, but for now, you can rest assured I’ll make this right, Catherine.” His thumbs caressed her wrist as he leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently. “Be mine?” The question lingered on her skin.
She inhaled the delightful scent of him, memorizing the moment. In truth, they didn’t have much of an option. Society would demand he make good on his actions, but this wasn’t a clandestine affair.
This was a friend who had somehow become so much more.
“Yes, Quin.” She vowed the words with all her heart, arching up on her tiptoes to seal the promise with a kiss. He met her halfway, his hands releasing hers to trail up her arms, grasp her shoulders, and pull her in tight as he deepened the exchange, branding her with his honor.
A sound from the door alerted them to an intruder on their private moment. Catherine took a step back just as Quin did, placing a proper amount of space between them, though if one looked closely, she was quite certain there was nothing proper about the way she looked at Quin.
Catherine turned to the footman, gesturing toward the long-forgotten pile of books she wished to borrow and the discarded gloves beside it. It seemed like a lifetime ago, those few moments prior to that kiss that changed everything.
“I’ll call on you tomorrow.” Quin’s promise hung in the air, his expression conveying far more than those five words could contain.
“I’ll look forward to it,” Catherine replied, the air thick with promises as she retrieved her gloves. As she slipped them on, her fingers tingled with memories of Quin’s skin and the thick fabric of his coat. She swallowed the impulse to relive those precious memories and followed the footman out the door. Her lips tingling from Quin’s kiss, she glanced back for one final look, her heart thundering at the fierce adoration on his face.
That expression haunted her deliciously all the way home.
Twenty-one
Quin nearly fell back onto the sofa, his legs no longer willing to support his weight under the power of the shock that he’d just endured.
Good Lord, he’d kissed Catherine.
And holy hell, she’d kissed him back.
He had been resting so peacefully, his mind completely vacant for the first time in days. Sleep had captured him and wasn’t tormenting him with feverish dreams. Then just when he thought he’d finally escaped, he’d seen Catherine. Her expression had been one of wonder, awakening, and tenderness. Her eyes had roamed his features with such affection, and then she’d said his name—like in all his dreams.
He hadn’t even thought to consider if it was real; he’d just assumed he was still asleep. As with all his other dreams, he’d wanted it to be real. With a desperation that leaked through, he’d closed the distance and kissed her. More than that—he’d devoured her. It had been such acute torture in the past week to watch her from a distance, knowing she was out of reach and yet so close. His control had snapped in that moment, and he’d needed her, plain and simple, raw and unrelenting.
So he’d kissed her with abandon, without reservation, and hadn’t even questioned it when her kiss hadn’t been as skilled as in his dreams. It was all the dearer because of it. But reality had washed over him like freezing water from the Thames.
He hadn’t been dreaming.
What have I done?The thought had flickered through his mind a moment before the only solution came to rescue his tortured soul. He would marry her; there was no other option. Compromising her wasn’t exactly the kind of proposal a woman dreamed of, that was for certain. But he would make it right; he’d ask in the way she deserved—later. So he’d assured her of his intentions, and he’d leave the more romantic notions for later when he could plan and do justice to his affection for her.
He wiped a hand down his face, unseeing as his mind continued to spin.