Devil in My Arms by Samantha Kane Page B

now?” he asked quietly. She didn’t answer right away, still quite unsure of what she was doing. “The mountains kiss high heaven, And the waves clasp one another,” he quoted Percy Shelley quietly. “No sister-flower could be forgiven, If it disdained its brother.” He was whispering quietly in her ear and his breath fanned softly against her hair. Her heart beat faster. She knew this poem. “And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea—What are all these kissings worth, If thou kiss not me?”
    “Poetry?” she teased, a little breathlessly, not sure she could find him any more attractive than at this very moment. “I confess it is my weakness. ‘Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine, In one spirit meet and mingle. Why not I with thine?’ ” she quoted back, though they had inverted the poem. It somehow seemed right, to do it wrong.
    “Is that a yes?”
    She nodded, biting her lip. He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head from his shoulder. His thumb rubbed her lower lip until she let go and then he leaned down and kissed her.
    It was … pleasant. His lips were soft and warm, his breath sweet, and she sighed and sank into his chest as she kissed him back. He continued to press soft kisses to her mouth, and when he gently sucked on her lower lip she giggled. She was shocked. She never giggled. She felt him smile against her mouth and she smiled back. It was fun to kiss someone while you were smiling. She gave in to her earlier urge and slid her hand up his chest and over his shoulder to the back of his neck, where she ran her fingers through those tempting curls. He snuggled her closer, spreading his legs and wrapping his arms around her. He was so warm; so tall and strong and wonderful.
    When he deepened his kisses, pressing more firmly against her mouth, she was ready for it. She wanted it. She wanted to know how he tasted. So she was the first to open her mouth just a little, the first to tentatively lick at the corners of his mouth, asking entry. He moaned and opened and she slipped inside and he was just as warm and soft and sweet inside as out. He tasted divine; he kissed perfectly.
    His arms tightened at the same time hers did. Instead of toying with his curls, her hand was now burrowed in the soft, thick hair on the back of his head, holding his mouth to hers. She had the other arm wrapped around his broad shoulders, holding tight. He made her feel delicate and petite and wanted. There was nothing rough or frightening in his passion, it was natural and unguarded and divine. For the first time she felt as if he had dropped all pretense and she knew the real Sir Hilary. She held the very essence of him in her arms. He’d pulled her up so she was on her toes as he took control of the kiss. Suddenly it was a desperate kiss, hungry and aching and pulling the passion up out of her until she was breathless and damp and on fire for him.
    Eleanor had never been more out of control in her life. While his passion didn’t scare her, hers did. What was supposed to be a pleasant interlude in the garden had turned into something much more. More than she’d planned on, more than she wanted, more than she could handle. She dragged her mouth away and he pressed his cheek to hers, his breath hot and heavy in her ear as he whispered, “Eleanor,” and she’d never heard her name said like that. As if she were air and water and everything he needed, as hungry, desperate, and aching as she was. He kissed her cheek and then trailed his mouth down her neck. Not a kiss, really. Just dragging his lips along her skin, the heat of his mouth replaced by the cool night air in its wake, making her shiver, until he stopped on the swell of her breast, just visible above her neckline, and kissed her there. Her breasts immediately began to ache like the rest of her, and she wanted to rip off the offending dress and bare herself to him, press his mouth to her skin and come