Winning Lord West (Dashing Widows 3) - Page 22

He cupped the side of her face. “And you’re lovely.”

The tightness returned. “No, I’m not. My nose is too big.”

It was West’s turn to laugh. “I love your nose. I always have. It has such character. A woman so imperious would look silly with a little button nose. You’re a queen, Helena, not a pretty little poppet.”

When he kissed her long blade of a nose, she shifted uncomfortably. Crewe had left her mistrusting everything about herself, including her looks. Now she hated how she yearned for more of West’s praise. “You don’t have to—”

“Give you compliments? I do, if you’re mad enough to underestimate your attractions.”

She snorted. “Overdoing it, West.”

He grabbed her hand and pressed it over his pounding heart. “Feel that?”

Wide-eyed Helena stared at him. “For me?”

“For you.”

Without stopping to second-guess herself, she rose on her toes—West was one of the few men she knew tall enough to make her feel small and feminine—and pressed her lips to his.

Her boldness startled him, and he jerked away. “Helena, are you sure?”

Yes, definitely a better man than her louse of a husband. She hooked her hands over his broad shoulders. “No.”

This time when she kissed him, she leaned closer, nipping at his lower lip until he let her in. When his arms lashed around her and his mouth opened over hers, triumph filled her.

After all this time, she’d expected to feel more tentative, but this was like coming home after a long, difficult journey. A voluptuous sigh escaped, and she parted her lips to allow him access. His tongue thrust into her mouth, and she met him eagerly.

Closing her eyes, she gave herself up to a sizzling universe of sensation. West’s scent was richer and more potent than she remembered, and he tasted so delicious. Heat swept through her with swift and irresistible force. A powerful pulse set up in the base of her belly.

Helena moaned against his seeking lips, as his hands roamed up and down her back. Only when her bodice sagged did she realize he touched her with intent.

She wasn’t hypocrite enough to protest. At last blood flowed through her veins. For years, she’d lived in ice.

With frantic hands, she pushed the coat and waistcoat from his shoulders, and tore at his neck cloth until his soft, white shirt fell open. Greedily her palms danced across the planes of his chest.

When he stepped back, she growled deep in her throat. Eyes glittering with purpose, he wrenched her blue silk bodice down.

“West…” she gasped, hands flying up to cover her breasts.

He caught her wrists and lowered them to her sides. “I’ve wanted this since we hid behind the stables and kissed each other to insanity.” His voice was hoarse with desire.

Looking back, she realized how careful he’d been with her. West might act the rake, but in essence, he was a good man. And recognizing that, she relaxed her arms in silent compliance. He released her wrists and cupped her breasts in his large hands. She shivered as he flicked his thumbs over her nipples, teasing them to dark pink points.

“So lovely,” he murmured, and closed his lips over one yearning peak. She started. And started again when his tongue rasped over her. Her knees turned to water, and unsteady hands clutched his shoulders.

“You’re…you’re tormenting me.”

His soft laugh tickled her skin, before he directed his attention to her other breast. A nip made her cry out and press closer. That hot, skillful mouth set her blood singing.

She thrust her hips forward, wantonly presenting herself. One hand curled into his shoulder, while the other tangled in his thick, warm hair. She wriggled, trying to relieve that insistent, thunderous throb between her legs.

Only when she was pulling his hair and panting did he raise his head. His eyes were heavy and dark, and that expressive mouth was fuller than usual.

“Let me have you.” The arm around her waist tensed in demand, but still she didn’t feel threatened. “Tonight.”

Tonight? In confusion, she shook her head. How could he ask her to make decisions when every touch threatened to incinerate her?

Disappointment flooded his eyes, and he reluctantly pulled away. “Damn, Hel, I’m sorry.”

Tags: Anna Campbell Dashing Widows Romance
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