was injured and needed to be restrained or that he was the cause of her agitation.
On second thought, Simon realized that he should have used a bit more tact when he apprised Miss Rutledge of his plans to foster Oliver, at least while the boy needed his guidance. Oliver was obviously important to her, so important that she still fought against his hold.
Or perhaps that was the woman's temper coming to the surface. Despite her willowy frame, tall but thin, she was quite strong. Of course, not strong enough to move a man like him from atop her person.
Atop her person. Simon looked down at her. He was on top of Miss Rutledge, in a bedroom, with the door closed, his body hovering only inches above hers. When she struggled, he felt her body brush against his.
"Be still," he tried a softer tone. He wanted to see her eyes open so he could enjoy the amber flakes close up. "Please?" he added. Miss Rutledge opened her eyes and looked at him, the anger merely simmering below the surface.
Simon was lost. His gaze traveled from her eyes, down her pert little nose to her amazingly full, pink lips. Lips. Simon watched her lips. He wanted nothing more than to touch them to his own. But she had them pursed tightly together, her anger still evident.
The hands that clasped her forearms gentled, his thumbs in total disagreement with his head as they began to trace loose circles on her tender skin.
She stilled beneath him. The struggle eased out of her in one slow breath. Simon inhaled deeply, enjoying the floral smell of her, the Lily smell of her. His nose took a path down the side of her neck and back up to her hair.
"Your Grace?" she asked.
"Yes, love," he said, distracted by her to the point where all reality ceased to exist.
"You can let me go now," she said quietly.
"In just a moment."
Simon released her right arm so that he could bring his hand up to her face. "So beautiful," he said, unable to keep from smiling at her. She surprised him when she smiled back and used that free hand to clutch his forearm.
With that simple acquiescence, Simon allowed himself to touch his lips to her forehead. Then her temple. The corner of her eye. Her cheek.
Simon pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, lingering, his kiss much softer than he'd ever thought possible.
Lily inhaled quickly beneath him. Her heartbeat sped up; he could hear it thumping in her chest. The soft scent of her breath tickled his nose. But more than just her scent titillated him. He smelled her desire . And that was when he lost control.
Simon pressed his lips against hers, immediately lost to the sensation. She tentatively pressed back. If she'd been kissed before, it wasn't by anyone who'd taught her how to do it. Just the thought of another man kissing her raised his hackles. He wanted to own her.
"You have never been kissed?" He lifted his mouth long enough to whisper the words.
"Of course I have," she said saucily.
"Liar," he growled before his lips met hers again.
He deepened the kiss, finding her lips soft, warm, and willing beneath his. His tongue flicked out to touch her lips. She gasped, and he seized the opportunity to enter her mouth. Just that one act, his tongue entering her warm depths, and he knew he had to be closer to her.
Simon raised himself off her quickly, the cold brush of air when her body separated from his momentarily jarring. He stretched out above her, spreading her legs with one of his. The tangle of her skirts prevented more, but he was content for the moment with what he had.
She surprised him when she raised her head to meet his next kiss. Her lips touched his of their own free will. He rejoiced. Her mouth opened of its own accord. He reveled in the sensation. Tilting his head, he aimed to consume her. His tongue slid into her mouth, his hands coming up to hold her face. Both of her hands were now
James Patterson and Maxine Paetro