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Whatever the reason, Cordelia felt as though something within her had shifted irrevocably.

For she wanted far more than his kisses, and the realization sent a sweet, frightening thrill through her heart.

He lifted his head and removed his hands that had hugged around her waist. He removed the pins from her hair, allowing it to tumble loosely over her in a cascade. She opened her eyes, disoriented by the sudden absence of his mouth.

He thrust his fingers into her hair and drew her a bit closer.

“I am barely holding on to my leash. If you do not come off my lap, you will spend the rest of the night seated on my cock, Cori.”

She opened her eyes, disoriented by the sudden absence of his mouth.

The arousal in his voice nearly undid her. He was watching her so carefully, his expression taut with restraint, that she understood he meant every word.

Instead, she kept her hands upon his shoulders and met his gaze. She had come to him of her own accord, and the knowledge of how desperately he wanted her did nothing to lessen her resolve.

She ought to have told him to stop. She ought to have remembered where they were and what the consequences might be.

A low sound vibrated in George’s throat, and he kissed her again, coaxing her lips apart with a patience that seemed at odds with the urgency of his embrace. The unfamiliar intimacy was so profound, so startlingly warm and tender, that she moaned, soft and needy, in her throat. “I have recalled your mouth upon my sex in my dreams every night since.”

George drew a ragged breath against her mouth. His hand rose to cradle her cheek, his thumb moving gently over her flushed skin. She felt as if they were ensconced in a stolen, breathless world in which she was a woman, greatly desired by this man.

And the pleasure of it, heady and forbidden, swept through her like a tide, pulling her under until she forgot everything but the press of his mouth and the thrilling, terrifying certainty that she was already in love with George, Viscount Templeton.

He broke the kiss only long enough to draw a breath, his forehead resting against hers. “God,” he murmured, his voice roughened by restraint. “I have never wanted to sink my cock in a woman this badly.”

She smiled helplessly. “Are those provocative and wicked words meant to be a compliment?”

A faint, incredulous laugh escaped him. “The finest I have ever bestowed upon a woman.”

“You are absurd.”

“Hopelessly.” He brushed a stray curl from her cheek. “And entirely at your mercy, it would seem.”

Her breath caught as his mouth traced along her jaw and down the graceful line of her throat, lingering where her pulse fluttered wildly beneath his lips. The attention sent a delicious shiver through her, and her fingers clutched at his shirt as though it were the only thing tethering her to the world.

“George,” she whispered.

He lifted his head immediately. “Have I frightened you?”

“No.” She drew a trembling breath. “Only astonished me.”

His smile was slow and wicked.

“I have scarcely begun to astonish you.”

“Must you be so provoking?”

“I fear it is an incurable affliction.”

She laughed, though the sound dissolved into another breathless sigh when he kissed her again. There was something almost unbearable about the contrast between his reputation and the care with which he touched her. She had expected wickedness from him, perhaps even practiced seduction, but she had not expected the tenderness that accompanied it. Nor had she anticipated how fiercely she would want him to continue.

His hand moved along her waist, and she became acutely conscious of the warmth of his palm through the silk of her gown. He drew back, studying her face with an attentiveness that made her feel more exposed than any state of undress might have done.

“Cori, look at me.”

She obeyed.

“I want you to understand something. You are not merely another woman who has wandered into my arms.”