Not Wicked Enough by Carolyn Jewel Read Free Book Online Page B

sigh and then lifted her arms to his shoulders. He’d broken, amicably, with his mistress when he was last in London, for no reason other than boredom. Therefore, it had been some weeks since he last held a woman in his arms. He was randy as hell. So he told himself.
     
    Lily Wellstone did not kiss like a virgin.
     
    Jesus, no.
     
    He held back nothing. He was far too wound up for a circumspect kiss. From the moment he touched her without either of them pretending nothing would happen, the possibility of restraint flew from any list of his abilities. Theworld, it so happened, had just become limited to the two of them. He was lost to every selfish and sexual urge a man might have in respect of a woman and to the scent of her, the taste of her, the feel of her body against his.
     
    She took his hat from him, and if she dropped it to the ground, he surely didn’t give a damn because she buried her fingers in his hair and, oh, yes, indeed, she was kissing him back.
     
    Her hips pressed into him, gently against his erection and then the moon disappeared behind some clouds and they stood there in the dark of the garden, still kissing, breathing in each other and the scent of roses.
     
    By the time she drew back, and it was she who did, one of his hands cupped her bottom. The other was curved around the nape of her neck. He took a deep breath, but at the end, though she had put a few inches’ distance between them, he leaned toward her and kissed her again. She allowed the kiss to linger, a light touch of their mouths, and then no more.
     
    “Goodness,” she said, looking at him from under her lashes. “That was lovely.”
     
    “I do know how to properly kiss a woman.”
     
    Her secret smile reappeared. “You do, your grace.”
     
    He kissed her again. She pressed her hand to his cheek as this kiss lingered, too, but she drew away too soon. Far too soon. She dropped her hand to his chest and kept it there.
     
    “I don’t mean for you to get the wrong idea,” she said.
     
    “What would the wrong idea be?”
     
    “This.” She shook her head. “The two of us.”
     
    “It doesn’t feel wrong.”
     
    She leaned against him, her hand pressed to his chest. “I confess I find you extremely attractive.”
     
    “Thank you.”
     
    She pushed on his chest and stepped away. “This is not wise, your grace. We can’t. Much as I like…all that— Well. You understand.”
     
    “What do you like?”
     
    “Don’t be obtuse. You know precisely what I like. Kissing you.” She placed a finger across his lips. “Touching you. You’re so very lovely, which I am sure you know, but it would be unwise to continue this when more is impossible between us.”
     
    He wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “Are you certain?”
     
    “Your sister is my dear friend,” she said. “And you are to be married.”
     
    “I am aware,” he said. Lord, yes, he was aware now. He hadn’t been when he was kissing her.
     
    They stood there, in the darkened garden. Lily looked away, and he bent to retrieve his hat from the path, and there they stood again, mere inches apart. She looked like a woman who’d been kissed. Thoroughly.
     
    She let out a short breath. “Despite what you must think of me, I’m not a woman of loose morals.”
     
    He nodded his agreement.
     
    She met his gaze. “I wanted to kiss you.” She brushed a hand over her face, then to her throat. “I suppose that makes me wicked. Wanting you to kiss me. Then allowing you to do so.”
     
    “It doesn’t.” He reached out and took her Gypsy medallion between his fingers. “I blame this,” he said.
     
    She laughed, and the sound lightened his heart. “Of course.” She plucked another leaf. “That must be the cause. We had no power to resist the magic.”
     
    “You see? We are not at fault here.”
     
    “Better you than Doyle, I daresay.”
     
    He let go of the medallion and laughed outright. Quiet descended, and during the silence, she