His valet gripped his jacket and simply froze. Not even her chest moved; it was as if she ceased breathing. Wentworth opened his eyes to find hers also open and wide like saucers. He held her gaze, their mouths still pressed together, both so still it was something of a miracle they were able to maintain the position.
He had always asked permission before kissing a lady. Even with his lovers, there had always been an indication he was about to touch or kiss them, as it was a step a gentleman should follow. He was a gentleman; he always thought of a lady’s sensibility as a gentleman should. Except, staring at Julian stirred a passion that felt raw and primitive. Wentworth didn’t want to ask any permission. He wanted to take, wanted to ravish.
“My…My lord,” she said achingly soft. “I…”
“I know…I know you are a lady.”
Breathing was nearly impossible as he waited for her to move, to say something, to deny it, to run from him, to even scream. Anything but this silence. At her shocked, prolonged lack of response, Wentworth spoke. “I just might prove the theory of dying from an internal heat generated by an unexplained force—spontaneous combustion, as proposed by Giuseppe Bianchini. However, the force in my case is not mysterious; it is you. By God, I feel if I do not kiss you…taste you even once, I will expire on the fucking spot.”
Her face flushed a delicate rosy hue at his crudeness, but the delight that entered her eyes sparked his desire like a match to dry kindling.
“You know?”
How husky and soft her voice was.
“Yes.”
“You cannot be sure.”
“I am most certain.”
“How—”
“I can feel it in the ache of want I have for you.”
She stared at him for a few moments, and then rather doubtfully asked, “And you are not angry?”
“I am curious…intrigued.”
Her breath puffed across his lips as she murmured, “An odd reaction to deception. Most would send for the magistrate.”
“I am the kind of gentleman who prefers to see ingenuity, inventiveness, and practicality in life choices that assume many risks. The foundation of any discovery first relies on the risk one is willing to take to prove themselves.”
Tender humor lit in her eyes, and he felt the curve of her mouth against his. “You, my lord, are entirely kissable.”
With a groan of defeat, he took her mouth with his. And to his eternal relief, she flung her hands around his neck, stretched up onto her toes, and returned his kiss with artless but such passionate ardor.
Thank Christ.
Her mouth tasted incredibly sweet. Her responses wonderfully wanton. Wentworth gathered her closer in his embrace and kissed her with more intimacy. She gasped against his mouth, and he kissed her more carnally, sliding his tongue against hers.
She made a wanton, achy sound that went right to his cock. Bloody hell. His manhood rose, a pulse-pounding need throbbing through him. Their lips parted briefly, and their gazes collided. In her, there was an answering arousal that had the headiest effect on his senses.
“What is your real name?” he asked, clearing the roughness of desire from his throat.
“Juliana. My…my father and my brother often call me Jules.”
Now he understood why she chose Julian as her disguise name.
He reached out and pulled the wig from her head to reveal tightly pinned dark tresses. Wentworth removed six pins, dropping them to the floor. She lifted her hand and did the rest until her hair fanned out across her shoulders and down her chest.
“Your hair is beautiful.”
“I had to cut it…before it was waist length.”
He touched the silken strands. Her beauty was drawn into sharper relief, all that mass of black hair, a slightly tanned skin, and exquisite lavender eyes. Had her skin always looked so soft and flushed? So inviting? He wanted to kiss all over her body and imprint the feel and taste of her in his mind.
“You are so lovely,” he said gruffly, dipping to catch her mouth in a brief kiss.
When he made to pull back, she followed, wrapping her hands firmly around his neck.
“Jump up,” he muttered against her mouth.
And she did, without any hesitation. This brought their mouths more in line with each other, but it also did something far more dangerous. To hold her to him and support her slight weight, Wentworth gripped her lush backside with his hands, and she hooked her ankles behind his back.
His cock, which was stiff and aching, was flushed to her heated center.
They both stilled under the realization of just how intimate they were. But he saw no anxiety or fear in her eyes, only need and curiosity.
“Have you had a lover before?” he asked with a measure of desperation, wishing she had experience.
“You were my very first kiss,” she said a bit shyly.
Ah, hell. She was just as sweetly innocent as he suspected. Wentworth couldn’t take advantage. That would make him a right bounder, a rogue with no redeemable gentleman qualities. “I…bloody hell…this is dangerous, we must stop at once and—”
Juliana caught his words with her mouth, swallowing his muffled groan of surprise and delight.
Juliana never imagined a kiss could be this pleasing…this decadent. The earl tasted of heady and something sweetly elusive. The place between her legs ached something fiercely, and the warnings from her mother about cads and rakes clanged a distant alarm in her passion hazed thoughts.
He’s no rake, she thought, kissing him with such fervor, just a gentleman who desires me.
The earl walked with her draped around his waist. She whimpered into the kiss as the movement had her female sex brushing against something hard and throbbing, causing somewhere deep inside her belly to quicken, sending powerful darts of longing through her.
Her back was pressed against the walls for the room, and he did something with his hips, a push, or a swivel. Good heavens! Shocked by the sensation that shot through her belly, she trembled in his embrace.
He broke their kiss, and his lips glistened with wetness, and his face was harsh with restrained desire. His eyes searched her face, and she blushed at her very unrestrained responses.
“We need to get you out of these clothes. You are cold and shivering.”
He stepped back and eased her down. Juliana did not speak but removed her neckcloth, waistcoat, drew the soaked shirt over her head. Beneath all of that was a linen binding that was also wet.
She glanced up. “I’ll not remove this.”
He walked over to the bed and tugged off the small coverlet. “You must. You are still trembling.”
Juliana was, but she didn’t know if it was from her wet garments or the introduction to pleasure. With his back turned to her, he said, “Remove it all and then use this to wrap yourself. I’ll not look.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Wentworth,” he said softly. “Please, Juliana, call me Wentworth.”
She smiled, and trusting him, quickly removed the bindings which had made her already small breasts nonexistent. Recalling how buxom his mistress had been, she wondered what the earl with such experience would think of her petite shape. Annoyed, she pushed aside those thoughts and removed her trousers and undergarment.
Juliana took the sheet and wrapped it around her three times before tying the front in the style of a toga.