Seven Nights In A Rogue's Bed. Anna Campbell
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“Shh,” Merrick said softly.
“Are you talking to me or the horse?” She loathed the betraying huskiness in her voice.
He laughed softly. “What do you think?”
“I think you should stop.” Her hands tightened on the reins, although she was careful not to unsettle her mount again.
“Not yet,” he said mildly, even as the excitement glittering in his eyes set the blood rushing through her veins.
She gave a long-suffering sigh. “Get it over with, then.”
His eyes sparked with the humor that rapidly became irresistible, curse him. “No need to beg, tesoro.”
The grip on her neck tightened, although she’d immediately recognized the futility of running. She’d made promises to him and he still held Roberta’s vowels. Kissing her stretched the boundaries of their agreement, but she’d known he plotted blatant seduction when he offered the bargain.
His lips rubbed across hers, pursed to kiss the corners, returned to suck subtly at her lower lip. More dangerously alluring pleasure blasted her. She made a muffled sound of distress, raising one hand to his chest. To push him away or draw him closer? She couldn’t have said.
Her eyes fluttered shut and her senses flooded with Merrick. With his male scent, so alien yet so alluring. The emphatic beat of his heart under her palm. The firm warmth of his mouth.
When his tongue flickered out to touch where he’d kissed her, she started. What an odd thing to do. If he’d told her he meant to lick her, she would have been revolted. In practice, it was…intriguing. Another whimper escaped as her hand clutched at his loose shirt. The leashed power beneath the shirt should terrify her. Right now, that strength stirred curiosity rather than trepidation.
Already his kiss sapped common sense. She more than most women knew the cost of giving in to a man, especially a demanding, managing man. Witness her mother drifting like a ghost under her father’s domination. Witness Roberta’s helplessness against William. Sidonie didn’t fool herself that Merrick’s charm concealed anything but a will to be in charge.
She made an incoherent protest and tried to pull away, but his hold was implacable. Still he brushed his lips against hers. Pausing briefly here to taste more thoroughly. Lingering there. Without conscious volition, she pursed her lips. Just a hint of kissing him back. No more. Satisfaction rumbled deep in his throat. Her belly pitched as she realized even ceding so little, she ceded too much. Once more she tried to retreat, but it was too late. The hand at her nape flexed and brought her nearer. More heat. More gentleness. More kisses inviting her into the unknown.
By the time he raised his head, she trembled with fear, resentment, and unwilling sensual reaction. She sucked in her first breath in what felt like an hour and opened dazed eyes. He was so close, she had to lean back before his features came into focus. He watched her with an alertness that contradicted the kiss’s leisurely sweetness.
“You shouldn’t have done that.” She wished she sounded appalled rather than beguiled.
The breeze played with her untidy hair, wafted strands across her eyes. Beneath her, Kismet was still. Merrick’s bay nosed desultorily at some seaweed. A few feet away, waves crashed upon the beach. When Merrick kissed her, all she’d heard was her heart’s wild dance. She’d been deaf to everything else. Including dictates of self-preservation.
With one gloved finger, he traced an invisible line down her cheek. Last night he’d touched her naked breast like this. The memory spurred the outrage she should have summoned when he started kissing her.
“Don’t.” She jerked away. Kismet shifted restlessly at her rider’s abrupt movement.
“You’ve never been kissed before, have you?” Merrick didn’t sound his usual mocking self. He sounded shaken. The silvery eyes were soft as autumn mist and his mouth was soft, too, full and so tempting it made her ache.
She blinked, horrified to realize she stared at him like a child entranced by Christmas candles. “What…what did you say?”
He regarded her almost tenderly. A warning clanged in her mind’s distant reaches. Beware. Beware.
“You’ve never been kissed before.”
She frowned, trying to make sense of the words. “Of course I have.”
A skeptical lift of one black eyebrow. “Thousands of times, I’ll warrant.”
She flushed and her hands fisted on the reins as she fought the desire to slap him. “Well, once. You kissed me last night.” Her voice developed an edge. “Or don’t you remember?”
His hand slid under her chin and tilted her face. He inspected her like a bizarre new species under a naturalist’s magnifying glass. “Of course I remember, bella. The memory haunts me. It’s just that you’re more…untouched than I’d realized.”
Annoyance coiled in her belly that he dared to mock her inexperience. She tugged her chin free. “I don’t make a habit of associating with unprincipled rakes. Why are you making so much of this? You know I’m a virgin.”
“Oh, yes.” Something flared in his deep-set silver eyes before he lowered his eyelids and studied her mouth. “But you’re even more…virgin than I’d guessed.”
“You can’t be more virgin than a virgin,” she snapped.
He leaned forward with unmistakable intention. She’d had enough of lying kisses and sarcastic teasing. She twisted to avoid him. Kismet snorted and sidled uneasily.
“Whoa there!” Merrick grabbed Kismet’s bridle and the horse immediately settled. “Get down, Sidonie.”
The brusque tone lifted every hackle that hadn’t risen when he’d derided her awkwardness. “Just because I let you kiss me doesn’t mean I’m about to lie down for you.”
He was still laughing at her. “Even I’m not so presumptuous, bella. But you’re overdue for a lesson in kissing and I can’t do the task justice when we’re in danger of tumbling on our arses.”
If her face got any hotter, it would burst into flame. “I have no wish to suffer further tawdry pawing.”
“Interest in physical pleasure is perfectly natural. Nothing to be ashamed of.” He dismounted and tied the bay’s reins on its neck so they didn’t dangle. “There’s no need to apologize.”
Oh, she really wanted to slap him. Her hand curled in its glove. “I’m not apologizing.”
He ignored her. “You must be burning with curiosity.”
“I’m burning with the desire to box your ears.”
He slapped the bay’s rump so the horse trotted out of the way with a snort, then strode across to where Sidonie sat fuming on Kismet. “Repressed passion turns