Kissing the Rake (Howertys #2)

Chapter 7: Kissing the Rake

"Or maybe you're holding out for a man with a title?" he asked with his eyes on hers. He was so close that she could see the pattern in his irises, and it amazed her she'd not turned into a puddle on the floor already. What was he talking about? If only he could step away so she could think properly. She didn't even know where to look. His bared chest made her disconcerted and his eyes made her flustered. And with the way he had her closed in against the wall, there weren't a lot of other places to look.

"No," she insisted. "I just never felt interested enough in a man to accept any proposals. We've been through this already."

"I think," he drawled, "that you want to marry a duke."

Her eyes flew back to his. Did he know how attracted she was to him? Surely not. The telltale blush in her cheeks seemed to confirm whatever it was he was thinking, because he cursed under his breath and his eyes narrowed in anger.

"Why, Jessica?" he asked her angrily. "Surely you can do better than an old man?"

Confused, she was going to ask him what he was talking about—what old man?—but he continued talking and didn't let her interrupt, "I know that every woman probably wishes to be a duchess. But bloody hell, titles aren't everything. You're too young to saddle yourself with an old geezer for a husband." He gave her an irritated look. "You don't know what you'd be missing out on. A man your age has so much more to offer."

"Jacob," she whispered incredulously. "You've gone mad. Or you're more drunk than I realised. What are you talking about?"

"I'll show you," he said, but by the way he looked at her she had a feeling they were speaking of two entirely different things. When he bent his head towards her as if he was going to kiss her, she panicked and quickly placed her hands on his chest to push him away, but the feeling of his hot skin against her fingers surprised her and she didn't use as much force as she'd planned. He smiled a little then, his mouth a mere breath away from hers. "Go ahead, touch me. I promise it only makes it better."

The sensuality of his smile and the lazy look in his eyes made her think she really might turn into a puddle on the floor. What was happening? And then his lips touched hers, and all thoughts fled.

It was nothing more than the mere brush of his lips against hers, but it was enough for her insides to flip in an awkward response. When he pulled back, their breaths mingling, she immediately ached for more. She didn't have to wait long for him to return. With more fervour this time, he lay siege to her mouth and her body quickly surrendered to the rush of desire his kiss evoked. As he gently nibbled on her lower lip, her hands gripped his shirt in a desperate attempt to stay afloat in a sea of previously undiscovered sensations.

"Open up to me," he whispered huskily. "Open your mouth, sweetheart."

Without thinking, she did as he asked and his tongue immediately stole across her lips to invade the hot recesses of her mouth. The deep kiss stoked the heat flowing through her limbs into flames and she wrapped her arms around his neck to stay standing as her knees felt too weak to hold her weight. Moving his hands away from the wall, he slid them down her back, pushing her closer. They fit together perfectly, her soft curves against the hard, lean planes of his body. The proof of his desire pressed against her abdomen and it surprised her to have provoked that response in him. Until that very moment, she was certain he'd never thought of her as anything but his friend's sister.

Something similar must have flitted through his mind, because he suddenly broke off the kiss and stared down at her, his eyes a much darker blue than usual.

"Bloody hell," he whispered, his hot breath fanning her face.

Still too overwhelmed to speak, she could do nothing but stare back at him while trying to catch her breath and calm her racing heart.