your gown,” her tormentor drawled. “The second is for helping you down from the tree.”
Anna glared at him. “You, sir, are an opportunist.”
“Yes,” he confirmed unapologetically.
Anna was sure she had never met a man more infuriating, more audacious, more outrageous, more intriguingly, meltingly roguish as this one.
“Should you not put on your pantaloons first?” Anna prompted in alarm as Rufus began to climb the tree with the dexterity of one of the primates she had once seen pictured in a book in her father’s study.
He paused briefly, the warmth of his breath currently fanning across her exposed knees. “They are expensive and I would not wish to damage them,” he mockingly returned her own earlier comment in regard to her lack of stockings and boots.
Anna’s trepidation grew as she realised just how vulnerable she was to whatever this man might wish to take from her.
Or, more worryingly, what she might wish to give.
Heat suffused the whole of her body as he continued to climb the tree, and she realised as he did so just how big he was. Everywhere. His tanned shoulders really were impossibly wide, and the bareness of his chest, with that down of silky black hair, was far too warm and immediate as he reached up past her to grasp on to the branch above, so that he might release the back of her gown, before then twisting his body round to sit on the branch beside her.
A warmth and immediacy that caused Anna to tremble as he sat far too close to her, the bare skin of his shoulder warm against her own, and allowing her to smell citrus and spice on his body, his cologne, along with a musky, totally male smell that she found equally as enticing.
“One,” he murmured pointedly.
Anna could make no pretence of not knowing what he was referring to, and her heart gave a leap in her chest as her gaze lowered to his chiselled lips just inches away from her own.
Sculptured lips. Wickedly sensual lips that surely did know exactly how to kiss a woman.
Her eyes widened as he slowly licked his bottom lip, before drawing it enticingly into his mouth with his teeth.
Rufus recognised Anna’s flush of arousal for what it was, and he realised too that he was enjoying himself, more than he could remember doing in a very long time. Years, perhaps. If ever?
He had taken bachelor apartments in London after finishing with Oxford, and the past ten years had seen his fortunes change dramatically. He had no interest in cards or a life of idleness, but had instead concentrated on his investments, doubling his money within months, before investing further.
Until one day Rufus realised he had so much money he could easily buy himself a house in one of the most fashionable areas in London, along with the servants needed to run such a residence, whilst he quietly continued to amass even more wealth.
He had enjoyed the company of ladies during those years too, of course. Very much so. He had stayed well clear of married ladies, however, nor had he wished to become entrapped into a marriage with one of the simpering young debutantes of the Season.
The young debutantes and their families were desperate to make a match to one of the richest men in England. His family connection to the prestigious Dukes of Hawksmere and Northamptonshire were not to be dismissed, either.
Cynical perhaps, but Rufus had no illusions in regard to London Society and how those loveless marriages were decided upon. And he wanted no part of it—not the suitable marriage, nor the demure miss, who would no doubt have been advised by her mother to lie passive and unmoving in the marriage bed while her husband impregnated her. After which she could banish him from her bed until her lying in was over. When the whole miserable cycle would begin all over again.
An heir was now necessary, of course, but Rufus had every intention of choosing his own wife when the time came.
The young woman seated on the branch beside him was not of the ton, nor was she a married lady or a simpering debutante. Nor did the circumstance of their meeting—she was currently as unclothed by choice as he was!—lend itself to any outraged cries of ruination on her part, if he should steal a kiss. Or two.
Which Rufus had every intention of doing.
Sitting as close as they now were, Rufus could appreciate just how delectably kissable Anna’s slightly moistened lips were. They were naturally rosy in colour, and there was an endearing dip in the centre of the fuller lower lip.
Her unfastened gown was still gaping down slightly at the front, allowing him a tantalising glimpse of her wet chemise as it clung damply to the fullness of her breasts, tipped with pert nipples the same rosy-red colour as her lips.
To kiss or touch those would be going too far, but that did not mean Rufus could not be aroused by the sight of them.
He raised a hand to cup her cheeks, her skin feeling as soft and smooth as silk as he turned her face gently towards him.
Her eyes widened in alarm as Rufus held that gaze to slowly lower his head towards hers.
She gasped softly. “Perhaps we should not do this.”
And perhaps, if Anna’s breath had not been so soft and fragrantly warm against his lips, if she had attempted to avoid his kiss by turning away, then he might have been able to resist.
As it was, Anna did none of those things, but instead remained as still as a statue as Rufus placed his lips gently against hers
He pulled back only slightly. “Open,” he encouraged gently.
“Open?” she asked, breathing softly.
Rufus ran the tip of his finger lightly across her lips, parting them slightly before once again claiming them with his own.
She tasted delicious. A combination of honey and mint, the latter a freshness that made his lips tingle, followed by that tempting sweetness. The enticing dip in her bottom lip begged to be tasted by his tongue before he slid fully into the heat of her mouth.
Rufus continued to kiss her, to taste her, as he pressed back against the trunk of the tree, his arm about the slenderness of her waist as he pulled her in tight against him, the softness of her breasts pressed against the hardness of his bare chest.
He groaned low in his throat as he felt the shy, tentative stroke of Anna’s tongue against his own. Then she became bolder still, sucking his tongue deeper into her mouth, slowly at first, and then more demandingly as her confidence grew.
Anna came to her senses with a gasp, wrenching her mouth from Rufus’s the moment she felt a firm and hot hand cupping her breast, his knowing fingertips caressing the swollen and sensitised tip.
She used her free hand to push against his chest as he seemed reluctant to release her, her eyes wide, cheeks flushed, her breasts—the breasts he had touched so intimately!—rising and falling as she breathed quickly.
She had never
