A Bluestocking Christmas by Monica Burns Page B

realized he’d been hoping he was wrong about her. But it didn’t stop him from wanting to show her how pleasurable the erotic moves depicted in The Golden Lotus could be. Controlling his lust with supreme effort, Simon cleared his throat and turned back to Ivy. His gaze never leaving her face, he moved forward to stop mere inches from her. A shudder rippled through her.  
    “Why do I think you’ve obviously read a great deal of the book,” he murmured as he glanced down at the leather bound volume in his hand.  
    “I am studying the book from an academic viewpoint.” Although her demeanor was still one of defiance, there was a distinct quaver in her voice.
    “Are you, indeed,” he drawled with amusement. “And exactly what is your opinion of the book based on your reading to date?”
    “I…I found it to be…enlightening,” she finished with a gasp.
    Simon’s body brushed against hers as he leaned past her to drop the book into the chair behind her. The barely audible moan passing her lips stirred a dark lust in the pit of his stomach. God, he couldn’t wait to have her in his bed.  
    His hand cupped her chin as his thumb pressed down on her bottom lip forcing her mouth to part. Another tremor wracked her body and vibrated its way into his fingers. Gently, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her lip and took pleasure in the way the plump flesh quivered beneath his touch. Like a violin responding to a bow, she swayed toward him.  
    Slowly, he pulled her close. Her eyes had a sleepy look as if she’d just woken up from a long night of passion. Christ Jesus, she was lovely, and her mouth was made for kissing. He bent his head and brushed his lips over hers. The faint scent of chocolate filled his nostrils from her sweet breath, and he immediately thrust his tongue into her mouth to taste her.  
    The flavor of hot chocolate dashed across his tongue. It held the promise of something sweet and delectable. His cock grew stiff and ridged in his trousers, and he longed to drag her hand off his chest down to his hard erection. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d found a woman who tasted so good. His fingers brushed along the silky skin of her neck and over the spot throbbing with the frantic pace of her heartbeat.  
    The racing pulse beneath his fingertips sent a surge of triumph through him. He’d been right. There were fires banked deep inside Ivy that when they emerged would consume her when she came to his bed. His fingers trailed downward across the material of her high-necked dress to just above her breasts.  
    Frustration lashed at him. He wanted to touch her. He wanted her to touch him. A small moan whispered in his mouth. It made him realize he was on the verge of losing control. If he didn’t release her, he might drag her to the floor and make love to her at that precise moment. Shaken by the need she created in him, Simon released her quickly.  
    His heart was racing, and every inch of him demanded he bed her right now. He drew in a deep breath. No. Ivy wasn’t like other women. He would have to woo her if she were to come to his bed. And she would come to his bed. The sultry expression on her face and her ragged breathing confirmed his belief of that fact.  
    “ That was most enlightening,” he murmured. “What time shall I call for you on Saturday evening?”
    “I…I am having a small supper party before the ball. You may join us if you wish. Supper is at seven.”
    “Then I shall be here at seven.” Simon captured her hand and carried it to his lips. When she tried to tug it free of his grasp, he tightened his grip and turned it over to study her palm. “Have you ever had your fortune told, Ivy?”
    “No, I don’t believe in that sort of nonsense.”  
    “Is it?” He gentle stroked the inside of her palm with his free hand as he bent his head as if studying her palm intently. When he raised his head, he smiled at her transfixed look. “In the not too distant future, Ivy,