too long. His whole purpose was to calm her down, of course, and to reassure her that he wasn’t laughing at her. Not really. But her neck was so inviting and her skin tasted so sweet and he found himself dropping more kisses than he’d ever meant to, dropping them lightly at first, then with more and more intensity, letting his tongue flicker on her skin.
“I’m sorry, Isabella,” he murmured against her warmth, still racked with humor. “I don’t mean to laugh. It’s not that I’m laughing at you. Honestly, I’m really not…”
“I hate you!” she cried, still trying to break free. “You’re mean and arrogant and—”
“No,” he said, finally getting control of the laughter and pulling up to look at her. “No, listen…”
She shook her head and her hair flew around her face. There were tears in her eyes. His heart melted at the sight.
“Oh, Isabella,” he said gruffly, full of regret. “No, I didn’t mean to laugh.”
Her lower lip was trembling. He cupped her face in his hands. She was beautiful and he moved purely by instinct. She had a spirit that had to be soothed, a mouth that had to be kissed. There was no stopping it. Nature had taken over.
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