“He’s a fascinating individual,” Quin commented. Catherine had turned her back to him as she continued. Her head angled just enough to expose the curve of her neck, and Quin couldn’t look away. It called to him like a siren on the seas. Reaching out, he swept a stray curl from her shoulder. He hesitated when she froze then slowly rotated her head to meet his gaze. The hazel of her eyes was endless as her lips bent upward.
It wasn’t a wide and playful expression.
No. It was the kind of small tip of her bow-curved lips that had invited him to touch her in his dreams. It was the sultry whisper of daring similar to a fine brandy and just as intoxicating. She arched her neck ever so slightly. She had removed a book, and as she placed it back in its slot, Quin traced his hand down her spine to her hip and pulled her backward, meeting her halfway with a step forward. The scent of roses flooded his senses as he bent his nose to the tender curve below her ear and placed a lingering kiss there, his body humming with energy. Her soft curves pressed into his hard planes, and the effect had his blood pounding hot through his veins.
She whispered his name.
He caressed his lips against her soft skin, savoring the moment.
It wasn’t often that one’s dream became a reality.
And he wasn’t going to rush.
Thirty-one
If I may venture to be frank, I would say about myself that I was every inch a gentleman.
—Catherine the Great
Catherine struggled to keep her breathing even. Wantonly, she pressed back into Quin’s strength, his hand at her hip like a brand as his fingers moved across her waist, then moved forward, covering her belly and pulling her in toward him. It was comforting yet deliriously erotic as she felt every line of his form against hers. His lips were wicked against her skin, making her needy and frantic for more than just a tender kiss.
Yet she didn’t want any part of this to rush forward.
It was still new.
Delicate.
Catherine wanted to savor every nuance. She murmured his name, tasting it on her lips. She bit down, suppressing a groan of pleasure as Quin’s other hand gripped her hip insistently, then inched up her side, grazing the edge of her breast and causing her to gasp at the pleasure of it.
“Not yet,” he said softly against her neck.
She was about to make what would assuredly have been an incoherent reply, but he twisted her hips, guiding her to turn and face him, and before she could formulate the words, he was devouring her lips with a kiss.
The power of it pinioned her back against the bookcase, his lips nearly assaulting hers with a need that rocked her. Pressing in to him, she tasted his desire on his lips and matched his power with her own as she ran her fingers up his arms and wove them though his hair, twisting her fingers around the strands, holding him captive in her arms.
He groaned against her lips and ran his fingers down her sides, spanning her hips, his fingers arching into her curves.
She pushed closer in toward him, needing to feel more of his body against hers, if that were possible. Yet it wasn’t enough. Instinctively, she knew he could be closer, and she was hungry for it—greedy for whatever pleasure that could give. Heart racing, she melted into his embrace, gasping as his lips left hers and trailed down her jawline, nipping and tasting her skin. His kiss reached the hollow of her throat, and his hand arched upward from her waist, curving over the swell of her breast. His fingers traced over her sensitive flesh. She gasped, her body nearly combusting at the pleasure of his touch, however light. Even through her clothing, his hands were hot against her, creating so much pleasure that she gave a soft cry.
Quin’s groan pierced her blissful haze, ragged and hot. His lips scorched her neck as he trailed kisses lower. His other hand reached behind her, pulling her closer in to him as he pressed a kiss to the curve of her breast just above her dress.
Catherine’s gasp came in ragged pants as she gave herself over to the pleasure. He made her body sing with each touch, as if he were a master and she the instrument. His hand at her breast slowly released and retreated back to her hips, gripping her with almost punishing force. “Not yet,” he whispered, his voice raw.
Catherine opened her eyes and met his eyes, lost in the green depths that swirled with passion. “Not yet?”
She swallowed, her throat dry. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, her body reacting powerfully to the way Quin watched her movement with a hunger she echoed.
She’d never wanted anything as badly as she’d wanted him to continue, to bring her to the fullness of the pleasure he tormented her with so mercilessly.
“But why?” she asked in a soft voice.
He kissed her, pulling back slightly and tugging on her lip playfully before returning to ravage her mouth. Abruptly, he pushed her away and answered her with fierce power in his expression. “Because I’m not going to take you in my library behind dusty old books, hurried and wondering if someone is going to walk in.” His voice was rough, barely restrained as he ground out the words.
His hold on her gentled as he trailed his fingers from her shoulder to her fingers, twining them with his own. He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing it tenderly. His eyes closed, as if he was using the moment to master himself once more. As he lowered her hand, he opened his eyes to meet hers. Passion, restraint, and love swirled in their depths, beckoning her to get lost in them. With his other hand, he reached up and traced the outline of her jaw, rubbing a thumb over her lower lip. He leaned in, and she met him halfway.
Using their laced fingers as a tether, she pulled him close and lost herself in the scent, touch, and nearness of him. His kiss was soft, lingering, and sweet—achingly sweet. It touched her heart in a way she couldn’t have anticipated. Soft breath fanned her lips as he withdrew only to cover her once more with a fresh kiss at a new angle. Lips tingling, she pressed in to him, squeezing his hand and nibbling playfully on his lower lip, unable to suppress the pure joy she felt.
“Your smile is my Achilles’ heel. I swear it will be my undoing if you persist,” Quin whispered against her curved lips. “There’s nothing more beautiful, more provoking and disarming. It tempts me to be less of a gentleman, yet reminds me you deserve so much more.” He kissed her again, lingering at her lips as if they were his air, water, and life.