A Comfortable Wife. Stephanie Laurens
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or obsessed.
“Whatever,” he said, his voice deepening, darkening. “You’ve succeeded.” If he took what was offered, would he know peace again? On the thought, he bent his head and set his lips to hers.
And felt, as he had known he would, her instantaneous response. It rose to his touch, to his caress, easily overriding her equally instinctive stiffening. Her unfettered reaction was balm to his bruised ego—at least she was, at this level, as helpless as he. Her lips softened; at his subtle urging, hesitant, beguiling, they parted under his.
Antonia felt the whirlpool rise and snatch her up, so strong she could only ride its tide. Her wits scattered, her senses stretched, heightened by excitement, eager, clamouring for experience. She felt his arms slide around her; as her limbs softened, they tightened and locked, crushing her to him.
Wanting more of his caress, she tilted her head and felt his lips firm. Driven, she pressed closer. The magic of his kiss had her firmly in thrall; tentatively, she returned it, revelling in the shocking intimacy, marvelling at the sensations crowding her mind. The seductive hardness of the muscles surrounding her, the tempting heat of his large body—all were new discoveries; the slow crescendo building within her, the swelling tempo of her heart, were fascinating, novel perceptions.
His strength surrounded her, his kiss intoxicated her. The feel of him, the taste of him, overwhelmed and excited her. Dragging her hands from where they had been trapped against his chest, she wound them about his neck, returning his kiss with an ardent fervour she hadn’t known she possessed.
Philip groaned and crushed her even more tightly to him, her breasts firm and swollen against his chest. He let one hand roam over her hips, urging her against him, moulding her to him.
The whirlpool had caught him, too.
He was too experienced to let it pull them down. Nevertheless, dragging them both free of its turbulent power took all the strength he possessed. When he finally managed to raise his head, soothing her hungry lips with a gentle brush of his, they were both breathing raggedly.
Tense, his muscles locked tight, he waited for common sense to return and save them. Very slowly, Antonia’s lids rose. Mesmerised, he watched as her eyes were revealed, the gold flecks blazing, the green more deeply jewel-like than he had ever seen. Then darkness swam in, dulling the brilliance. Her breath caught; she caught her lower lip between her teeth, her eyes widening with what could only be alarm.
She stiffened in his arms.
Philip felt the panic grip her. “Don’t,” he said, in the instant before she started struggling.
To his relief, she stilled, a frightened bird locked in the cage of his arms, tense and quivering.
Holding her gaze, Philip dragged in a deep breath, his chest swelling, making him unwillingly aware of the softness pressed against it—and took a firm grip on the reins. “I’m not about to ravish you.”
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