Regency Christmas Pact 02 - A Gentlemen's Pact by Jerrica Knight-Catania Read Free Book Online Page B

never this. Never the all-consuming, brain-addling desire she felt whenever Rowan Findley was near.
    She wanted to kiss him too. Her mind raced with memories of the stable—heat and flesh and pure ecstasy.
    But there were too many complications. She had Marcus to think of. She couldn’t simply rush headlong into Rowan’s arms without taking her son into consideration.
    She realized she’d been silent for an awfully long time, so she cleared her throat and straightened her blanket. “I-I don’t think that’s an appropriate thing to say to a woman,” she finally said. “And even if you were thinking of…ahem…kissing me, I wouldn’t let you.”
    Rowan raised his eyebrows, clearly amused by her declaration, though Olivia didn’t see anything funny about it at all. “Is that so?”
    Oh, blast. Did he think it a challenge?
    “Yes, that’s so.” She gave him her sternest of stares—the one she gave Marcus when he was acting out of line. “You are not granted permission to kiss me. Ever.”
    “ Never ever?” He pursed his lips together. “That’s a very long time.”
    “Don’t tease me.”
    “But it’s so very fun.”
    Olivia’s mouth dropped open. How dare he take pleasure in making her uncomfortable? She was about to say just that, when he launched himself across the small distance between them and planted his lips on hers.
    Olivia squealed and kept her mouth firmly closed. She would not allow him to get the better of her. It didn’t matter how good he smelled or how warm and comforting he felt or how much he made her nether regions throb with desire. She could not allow herself to fall prey to him.
    What if he rejected them after all this? What if he decided he wanted nothing to do with them? The choice was his to stay or go, and that made Olivia sick to her stomach with nerves.
    Despite the fact Olivia was so tight lipped, Rowan persisted. He wasn’t hard or forceful. As a matter of fact, he was far gentler than Olivia ever would have expected. He nipped lightly at her lips, and then his tongue darted out in an attempt to get her to open for him.
    It tickled in a way that made her squirm in her chair. In a way that made her think of actions much more scandalous than simply kissing. And before she knew it, her mouth had fallen open and Rowan dived in.
    His mouth was warm, his kisses tender. Olivia was tempted to weep for all the emotion flowing through her, all the thoughts swirling in her head. How he filled a void she’d had in her life ever since Jack died, or maybe even before. How she felt guilty, as if she were disparaging her deceased husband’s memory by kissing another man. How she had dreamed of this moment in those long, lonely nights, wondering if she’d ever see Rowan again, or at the very least, find a good man to love again.
    It all overwhelmed her, and made her arch her back into Rowan, who stood over her. Apparently deciding the angle was too awkward to continue this way, he snaked his arm around her back and lifted her easily from the chair. He supported her weight, clearly being mindful of her injury, and Olivia fell against him, suddenly feeling like that wanton seventeen-year-old again.
    His chest was hard and warm, and it occurred to her that her blanket had fallen to her feet. There was so little material between them now. Her nightgown was thin, and her nipples hardened with desire.
    After a few more moments of what she could only describe as fevered bliss, Rowan broke the kiss. He didn’t let go of her, though. He merely pulled back slightly and stared at her with his eyes half-shuttered.
    She wanted to tell him never to leave. To marry her now and take his place as Marcus’s father. But she couldn’t. She didn’t want him to do those things because of guilt or pity. She wanted him to want to do them. He had kissed her, so perhaps they were headed in that direction. If she made a desperate plea now, she might scare him away.
    The sound of Marcus chattering away to Mrs.