Regency Christmas Proposals: Christmas at Mulberry Hall / The Soldier's Christmas Miracle / Snowbound and Seduced. Amanda McCabe
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A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw as he watched her approach through narrowed lids. ‘I swear, Amelia, if you do not stop “My Lording” me in that superior tone—’
‘Shall I return to calling you Gideon, then?’ she murmured throatily as she halted beside him.
Gideon would not do, either!
Gray wished that Amelia were not standing quite so close beside his chair. So close, in fact, that he was once again assailed with that perfume that was uniquely Amelia: elusively floral and utterly feminine! So close that he could see the rapidly beating pulse at the base of her throat. So close that the ivory swell of her breasts was on a level only inches away from his narrowed gaze.
So close that just her proximity caused his body to stir!
‘You will need to once again remove your jacket, waistcoat and shirt, Gideon,’ she prompted.
Dear Lord …!
How much was a man expected to stand? Gray wondered achingly. To resist? And he must surely resist where Amelia of all women was concerned …!
‘I have absolutely no intention—What do you think you are doing?’ He turned to look at Amelia as she moved to the back of his chair and placed her hands upon the collar of his jacket.
She raised challenging brows. ‘Helping you, of course.’
‘Damn it, Amelia—’
‘You should not swear so often, Gideon.’ She tutted reprovingly.
‘Your stubbornness is enough to make even a saint swear, Amelia,’ he assured her through gritted teeth, and he resisted her efforts to tug the tightly tailored jacket back over his shoulders despite the added discomfort it gave to his aching arm.
She gave him an exasperated look. ‘And those scars upon your chest and back attest to your never having been that!’
Gray stilled at this reminder that Amelia had seen his scars the evening before. Honourable scars, if she did but know it, from injuries he had received during his years of working secretly for the crown. Years when Gray had necessarily allowed all who knew him—including his brother Perry and his family—to believe he was something of a rake and a wastrel who preferred not to involve himself in the messy business of war. No wonder, then, that Amelia had twice now referred to those scars as having been gained dishonourably rather than honourably …
‘Your waistcoat and shirt now, if you please,’ Amelia murmured with satisfaction, having taken advantage of Gideon Grayson’s brief distraction of thought to pull the jacket ably down his arms before removing it altogether.
‘I have no intention of taking off any more of my clothing in your presence—Amelia, cease this instant!’ He raised his voice as she moved to stand in front of him and deftly began to unfasten his waistcoat.
Amelia ceased. Not because Gideon had instructed her to, but because of a sudden awareness of the tension that emanated from him; his jaw was set grimly, eyes blazing darkly, and his hands were clenched into fists until the knuckles showed white as they rested on his muscled thighs.
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘I am only trying to help, Gideon …’
He breathed deeply as he continued to glare at her, that nerve pulsing rapidly now in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘What you are doing, Amelia, is playing with fire,’ he warned her harshly.
Amelia could barely breathe as she looked searchingly into that arrogantly handsome face. At the way the unhealthy pallor of Gideon’s skin gave his eyes a dark and dangerous appeal as they blazed up at her. At the grim set of his jaw and those sculptured and sensuous lips.
She began to tremble, to shake at how desperately she wanted to feel those lips against—devouring!—her own …
‘Do not, Amelia!’ Gray groaned as she stepped between his parted thighs and even the light brush of her gown became an unbearable torment against his ultrasensitive erection.
‘Do not what, Gideon …?’ She placed her gloved hands on his shoulders beneath the silk of his waistcoat.
A touch that instantly burned, seared through the thin material of Gray’s shirt. Making him long for there to be no barrier at all between Amelia’s hands and the bareness of his chest.
She easily held his gaze with hers as she stepped closer still, the warmth of her legs a delicious torment now as they pressed softly against the inside of Gray’s thighs, causing him to become harder still.
Gray had been in one state of arousal or another since first setting eyes on this beautiful and desirable woman. Physical. Emotional. Temporal. Amelia—with her courage, her honesty, her undeniable beauty—challenged him on each and every one of those levels.
He closed his eyes briefly before looking up again. ‘If you do not step away now, Amelia, I cannot be responsible for what happens next!’
Instead of doing as he asked, Amelia smiled. Slowly. Invitingly. The softness of her lips parting slightly as she moved so that the fullness of her lips were now mere inches away from Gray’s own.
‘Do not say I did not warn you …!’ Gray gave a brief, self-disgusted shake of his head even as his hands moved to fasten tightly about the slenderness of Amelia’s waist to pull her in tightly against him, so making her completely aware of the fullness of his erection.
Her eyes widened slightly as that arousal pressed revealingly against her, before her tongue once again moved moistly across those red and parted lips. ‘I promise to say nothing at all, Gideon, if you will only kiss me …!’ she invited breathlessly.
It was too much—Amelia herself was too much!—and with a low groan Gray moved the short distance that separated them and claimed her mouth with his own.
Amelia gave a deep and satisfied sigh in her throat, and her fingers clasped tightly onto Gray’s shoulders even as her lips parted beneath his. It was an invitation Gray readily accepted as he deepened the kiss.
She tasted of warmth and honey. Unlike anything Gray had ever tasted before. A taste as unique as Amelia was herself, and just as addictive …!
Gray drank of her hungrily, deeply, as he crushed her breasts against him, running his tongue lightly across her lips in warning before venturing inside the heat of her mouth. Her tongue met his shyly, gently duelling, before ceding to his dominance. Gray’s tongue surged inside, taking, claiming, in deep and rhythmic thrusts that matched the deep and aching throb of his thighs pressed so intimately against her.
As Gray had known would happen, he wanted more. Wanted to feel the silkiness of Amelia’s skin beneath his hands, to see and touch the ivory softness of her breasts.
Even as he continued to kiss her his hands were busy with the tiny buttons at the back of her gown. One. Two. Three. Until her gown was unbuttoned halfway down her back. A shift in position, an easing away, and Amelia’s gown fell gently down to her waist.
Gray dragged his mouth from hers, placing kisses upon her neck, her throat, before raising his head to look at the fullness of Amelia’s breasts revealed beneath the thin material of her chemise. His hands moved up instinctively to cup beneath those orbs. Her breasts seemed fuller tonight, heavier, and the nipples were already hard beneath her chemise.
A light tug of that material revealed those breasts in their full glory, allowing Gray to gaze upon her nipples, his breathing becoming ragged as he looked on their fullness and likened them to the colour and ripeness of raspberries.
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