“She could not be as lovely as you.” Roman reached out, touched a finger to her chin, and lifted so she could not avoid his gaze.
More romantic words had been spoken she was certain. Confessions of undying love perhaps or talk of united souls. Yet lovely was perfect. The word wrapped about her and made her feel beautiful inside and out.Lovely.Was there a word more, well, lovely?
His hand moved, slowly, slowly inching around the curve of her jaw then about the back of her neck, holding her captive. Not that he needed to. One look, one word, and apparently she was his. There was no sense in denying it anymore. Logic could not win against the desire swirling through her, the very hunger eating at her soul for his touch. She wanted this man.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered.
She nodded.
Roman moved suddenly. She gasped when he ducked his head and his mouth connected with hers. Heat soared through her, and she whimpered, closed her eyes, and flung her arms around his neck and rose to meet his kiss. His free hand slid down to the small of her back and drew her firm against him.
She gasped again when the hardness of his body pressed into hers. He gave her no quarter, seeking her mouth with such urgency that she had to believe he felt the same. He needed her as much as she needed him. It was all she needed to know.
Clem gave herself up to his kisses and touches, moving into his hold and making a groan rumble up from his chest. She weaved her fingers through his hair, luxuriating in the twin sensations of soft and hard. Notched perfectly against him, sparks of desire started at the center of her when he shifted his hips and she eased into each movement, her body rising to meet his.
“Damn, Musgrave.”
“Do not swear – ”
“Christ, Musgrave,” he muttered against her mouth.
“Do not blaspheme,” she teased but the words came out breathy.
He responded by kissing her again, wrapping his arms fully about her and drawing her onto her tiptoes. They moved together until the backs of her legs hit the desk and Roman lifted her, setting her upon it. He eyed her briefly and she gave a tiny nod of consent. He swooped back in, settling between her thighs and scattering kisses down her jaw and neck, nibbling on her ear and sending tremors through her.
Tilting her head back, she allowed herself a sigh. None of this was correct or even vaguely understandable. And she just did not damn well care.
∞∞∞
She smelled sweet—like flowers. She tasted even better. And the feel of her...
Roman never wanted to release her. When he had spied Clementine in the office, he couldn’t control himself. It had been too long since he’d kissed her and far too long since he’d heard her laugh or watched that determined pout form. He couldn’t fathom why it was this way but when he had her in his arms, an empty part of him that he thought would surely be fixed by achieving everything his father had ever wanted…vanished. It was like she slotted into a gap in his soul.
When she curled her legs around his hips, he feared he’d lose his mind. A tumult of curse words rose up and he shoved them aside, knowing Clementine wouldn’t approve. He didn’t think she had yet gained the skill of reading minds, but he would not put it past her.
He kissed the softly scented skin behind her ear, her hair teasing his face. Her grip tightened on his arms, and he pulled her as close as humanly possible. She lifted her hips, and he closed his eyes to take her mouth once more.
There was so many versions of wrong it was ridiculous. He was a gentleman with a reputation to protect and no matter what one thought of the Musgraves, Clementine had the title and reputation of a lady. Kissing her, touching her in such a setting went far beyond the reaches of correct behavior.
But he didn’t want to be correct. He couldn’t face the thought of not holding her again or of walking out and not giving her some indication as to how he felt about her. She’d become all-consuming to him—so ingrained in his life in barely over a month that she made him question everything he’d ever thought. The Musgraves weren’t coarse or scandalous. They were welcoming and fun and everything he’d lacked in his upbringing. If he’d been embraced by such a family in his youth, what would he be like now?
Talking of embrace...
Roman slid a hand down Clementine’s back and hooked his hand under her thigh to angle her closer.
“Roman,” she said, her voice shaking as she shifted her hips in a rocking motion, working herself against him.
Good God. He moved back briefly to view her closed eyes and the slightly parted lips, the way her curls touched the silk of her gown as her head tilted back. The woman was only bloody pleasuring herself upon him.
And he wanted nothing more than to aid her. He moved his other hand to support her back and peppered kisses down her neck and further to the soft decolletage. The desire to rip her clothes from her made his muscles tighten. To see her in all her glory like this was something he was not certain a mortal man could take, and some vague sense of self-control enabled him to at least take this no further. None of this was gentlemanly behavior, but to deny her did not seem like something a gentleman would do either. If he could still be described as a gentleman…
Roman gripped her thigh and notched himself against her, relishing her gasp and the little tremor rippling through her. The inkpot on the desk rattled and papers next to them shifted. Duke would not be impressed.
Or maybe his friend would be extremely impressed. Clementine had snapped Roman’s tight thread of control and he wasn’t certain he ever wanted to mend it again, not if it meant denying himself moments like this.
“You’re lovely,” he reminded her in a whisper against her cheek. “So lovely.”
She moved against him, rocking back and forth upon the desk and he held her tight, shifting with her and kissing her deeply. It might have been hours or mere moments—all he knew was it ended all too quickly.