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She met him eagerly when he slipped his tongue into the heaven of her mouth, the soft whimper that left her throat sending a delicious shiver through him. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to kiss her forever.

So he did. He kissed her again, then again, his lips clinging to hers. She let out another quiet, maddening sigh when she opened her mouth to him, welcoming him into that devastating heat. Their tongues tangled in a slick dance, one kiss blurring into the next until his head was swimming with dizzying pleasure.

When she twined her arms around his neck and pressed closer, her breasts against his chest, he ceased to think at all and gave in to the soft pressure of her lips against his and the maddening sensation of having her in his arms at last.

It should have ended with a kiss, but her inexperience and his restraint were no match for the heat that erupted between them the moment their lips met. The passion between them had been simmering and building for days, and now she was all he knew, all he could see.

There was nothing in the world like the give of her plump bottom lip against his, her fingers in his hair, the delicious languor in his limbs and the explosion of heat in his belly. He shouldn’t be holding her like this, shouldn’t be kissing her. He had dozens of guests roaming his castle, and any one of them might come upon them at any moment and catch him with Stella in his arms.

But rationality was no match for the passion between them. Nothing mattered except Stella and the brush of her lips against his, the subtle arch of her body as she tried to get closer, the restless tug of her fingers in his hair and their mingled panting breaths.

How many times had he dreamed of this moment? How many times since their first meeting in the conservatory had he imagined kissing her, holding her? He’d dreamt of her every night since she’d come to Hawthorne Castle and awoken every morning thinking of her.

She was the one he’d been waiting for. He’d known it since the moment he’d seen her face turned up to his as she stood on the drive below his bedchamber, and with every day that passed he’d only grown more certain.

She was his. Kissing her felt like coming home at last.

He might have missed this. He might have gone his whole life without finding her. He might never have met her, never have held her in his arms, and there would forever have been an empty place in his heart where Estella Harley should have been.

She sighed against his mouth, and his heart jumped in his chest at the soft puff of her warm breath against his damp lips. He broke the kiss, her protesting whimper going straight to his cock, and trailed his lips down the smooth, pale skin of her throat.

Dear God, she was sweet. The sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

He needed her closer, as close as she could be.

He couldn’t get enough of the softness of her skin, the silky tangle of her hair in his hands, the delicate citrus scent of her that put him in mind of blooming magnolias. It was more concentrated in that maddening space behind her ear and in the tempting hollow of her throat.

Was every part of her as sweet as her lips? Was the long, graceful line of her neck as silky as it appeared, as delicious? That place at her waist just as it gave way to the swell of her hips, her slender wrists and dainty fingers enthralled him.

It would take a lifetime of exploring her to do her justice, and there was nothing he wanted more than to lay her on his bed and take his time learning every inch of her.

Would she cry out for him when he touched her?

“I’ve dreamed of you, Stella.” Day after day, he’d lost himself in his fevered imaginings of her standing before him, breathless and with the flush of arousal on her fair skin.

He brushed his lips over hers again, a rumble of satisfaction rising in his chest as she rose onto her tiptoes to get closer, meeting him halfway and sliding her hands down to his forearms to steady herself.

Her kiss-swollen mouth had darkened from pale pink to cherry red, and he couldn’t resist sucking her generous lower lip into his mouth, so sweet and red and plump. He couldn’t resist sucking and nibbling on it, coaxing sighs and gasps from her.

It was a miracle that he’d found her, a miracle that they were here together, and he wouldn’t squander it. “May I … let me … wrap your arms around my neck, Stella.”

She did as he bade her and he took her mouth in deep, drugging kisses, his desire ratcheting higher as she tangled her tongue with his. His hands flew to her waist, and he held her tightly against him as he plundered her mouth, his tongue tracing the delicate bow of her upper lip.

“Is this all right, love?”

“Yes.” Her fingers sifted through his hair. “More, please.”

How could he ever deny such a breathless plea?

He couldn’t. He could do nothing but press closer, his lips skimming over her neck before settling in the warm hollow of her throat, her pulse beating frantically against his tongue as he tasted her.

God, he wanted to touch her everywhere, bare every inch of her skin so he might worship her as she deserved, but they were out in the open on the castle grounds. If someone should happen to glance out a window …

She was an innocent and a guest in his home.

Good Lord, what was he doing? He was no rogue, no debaucher of innocent young ladies.

He must release her at once.