Into The Hall Of Vice. Anabelle Bryant

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СКАЧАТЬ hell?’ Slim arched brows furrowed over intelligent eyes. ‘I was told Mr Sinclair owned this property. Are you the same?’

      Oh, she was a dandy. Her tone rang with authority, absent of disdain but confident and seemingly accustomed to acquiring any and all things desired. He counted to five before he answered. ‘True enough he does. As do I and another of our associates. And you are?’ He watched with a keen eye, but no recognition to his identity showed. The dusky clouds overhead parted and filtered additional moonlight to cast her in a golden glow. Deuces, she was a beauty. If he didn’t know it already, the enchantment of starlight confirmed the conclusion.

      ‘Gemma.’ She gave a thoughtful pause and he waited. ‘I’m not sure my surname proves relevant.’

      Aah, but he possessed that missing piece of the puzzle from their unexpected rendezvous this morning. ‘Well, Gemma.’ He tried her name on his tongue and oh, how he liked it, among other things. He was fast collecting a catalogue of observations, every one of them more enticing. Not that it mattered, he reminded. ‘I am Mr Hewitt and you are trespassing.’

      ‘I didn’t mean to get caught.’ She didn’t sound apologetic. If anything, she sounded annoyed he’d interrupted her plans.

      ‘Yes, I’ve no doubt.’ He wasn’t certain but he thought he smelled honeysuckle. None of the bushes near the hell were floral. It could only be the lady. ‘Well then, now that we’ve established your need for a costume, let’s have the why of it.’

      She wrinkled her nose quite adorably and he rubbed his fingers together for want to touch her again. It wouldn’t be proper, but then their entire interaction had proved nothing of the sort. Gentlemen and Cits followed a code of ethics that did not apply to former beggars and homeless bastards. Lady Amberson was strictly forbidden. Regardless, his heart raced like a mad thing in his chest and he had no way to explain the reaction.

      ‘I’d rather not say.’

      She eased back until she skimmed the brick building. Something had her on edge almost as much as he. It was due time she experienced a bit of discomfort. With a sardonic grin he inched closer. ‘Come now, you were caught looking through my window.’

      ‘It wasn’t exactly your window.’ Her answer was anything but rueful.

      He slued his eyes above her head for effect. ‘Wrong again.’ The screech of an alley cat or otherwise disgruntled night creature caused her to startle, or mayhaps it was the way her brain processed his words. Truly the lady thought herself above. He really shouldn’t torture her so. ‘Now, sweet Gemma.’ He lowered his chin so his face aligned, their noses all but touching. ‘How can I help you?’ He spoke in a low rasp, vying for menacing but not quite pulling it off. He knew the perfect way to send her scampering and teach her a well-deserved lesson. And likewise, satisfy the vexatious curiosity racing in his blood.

      Her eyes grew large as she matched his. ‘Mr Hewitt.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘I should take my leave.’ She swallowed as her gaze flittered to his mouth, down, up, then down, up again. ‘I’ve troubled you enough for one evening.’

      ‘You’re no trouble at all.’ The little minx. He leaned in, his body full of heat, her lips but a hair’s breadth from his and all reality changed in that moment. He should send her on her way, release her from this moment fraught with dangerous consequence, but the words to do so refused to emerge.

      The mood shifted, her stance softened, though the air was charged with an energy he could in no way describe. It was as if he could feel her heartbeat, experience the rush of her emotions, all by being closer. He wondered if she detected the same. Perhaps she did. Her eyes fell closed. Long lush lashes bowed down to rest on pale cheeks, as smooth and opalescent as the inside of a rare shell.

      He itched to trace his fingers over her skin, thread through her hair and close the tiny distance needed to connect their mouths. Nothing more than a little puff of breath escaped her lips while his body throbbed with yearning and, down below, his smalls tightened significantly.

      No matter everything about the encounter was wrong. If anyone should see him, mouth to mouth, pressing a lad against the bricks of the hell, they would fail to understand the truth of the situation.

      ‘You’re a clever thief if ever I’ve met one.’ He never meant to voice the words, desperately attempting to regain clear thinking, but this seemed new territory.

      ‘Oh.’ Her eyes popped open.

      He didn’t wait for her to elaborate.

      He brought their mouths together and her shudder of surprise reverberated in his soul. She did nothing more than stand still at first while his mouth fit over hers with perfection, the sensual heat of her lips extended to every part of him, every nerve ending and cell. She tasted as he imagined, sweet, fresh and wonderful, and when she recovered from her initial shock, she placed her hands tentatively on his shoulders, the wall at her back reliable support, their kiss taking on a rhythm of its own.

      He’d kissed dozens of women. Maybe more. Bawds, ladybirds, cast-offs and runaways. Not one proper. No one like Gemma. Her innocence and shy inhibition evoked an urgent need to touch, caress, explore every inch of her. He laid his palms flat against the wall, caging her with his body, the little temptress, and deepened the kiss, his tongue grazing over her bottom lip in invitation.

      She gasped. Her fingers curled into the collar of his jacket and held tight. Did she like it? He tested her pleasure by stroking over her plump lower lip again. This time she sighed, relaxing just enough for him to lick his way inside, the warm wet silk of her mouth pure divinity. If only she were to rub her tongue against his… a rush of erotic suggestions flashed through his mind with lightning speed, his cock painfully hard. He fought for good sense and reason. And in an act of self-preservation as much as deprivation, somehow he did the one thing he needed to and withdrew.

      Gemma closed her eyes and blinked hard. What just happened? She’d been kissed by a stranger. No, not a stranger. Mr Hewitt. Cole. Still, he was a stranger. More importantly, she’d been kissed.

      A dozen conflicting thoughts fought for attention in her brain while wisps of emotion and sensation swirled within her chest down to her stomach and back up again. She was dizzy and yet never more in the moment, here, now, sheltered by his embrace. She wondered at her steadiness, her legs weak and her heart racing. Uncurling her fingers from where she’d grasped his shirt for strength, she ran her tongue along her lower lip with a startling sense of awe. He’d licked her there, tasted her mouth with his tongue. It was wicked and unforgivable, but thinking about it caused a keening spike of sensation to skitter throughout her limbs, all at once unable to keep still.

      ‘Oh.’ The single syllable was the best she could manage until her wits returned. ‘Mr Hewitt.’ She should slap him. Wasn’t that what years of propriety and etiquette lessons had drilled into her female mind? She needed to object and respond with outrage. But oh, how heavenly the intimacy of his kiss. It was as though she belonged, in that exact space and time, for that reason only.

      He stared at her with a slightly bemused expression and his hair caught a slant of moonlight, the soft waves of yellow glinting gold from the sides of his cap, the lock across his forehead, even the soft fleece of his hard forearms. She reached forward, tempted to touch, and then remembered herself, only to rush her hands to her sides with haste. That wouldn’t do. Without a skirt full of folds, she had nowhere to hide her nervousness. She clasped one hand within the other and held her fingers for safekeeping.

      His СКАЧАТЬ