The Officer's Temptation | A Regency Romance

Chapter Twelve: More than a Kiss

The carriage door closed with a click, leaving Marlowe and Kate facing each other in the near darkness. Marlowe cursed his own stupidity. If the low light of the gardens had been intimate, the near-total darkness of the carriage was practically begging Marlowe to touch Kate. He had been praying that the wait of having the carriage brought around would have been enough to put his mind at ease after the intense kiss that they had shared, but if anything his lust was only amplified.

After the kiss, Kate had excused herself to get a drink while he had stood out front waiting for the driver to come around while replaying the moment over and over in his mind. Was she embarrassed? Did she regret it? Had he gone too far?

And now, having barely said a word to each other since, they were facing each other in almost total darkness. He could hear every rustle her gown made as she adjusted herself on the seat, practically feel her breath stirring the humid air against his face. He cleared his throat as the carriage bounced to a start and the wheels rolled over the gravel of the drive. "Kate, forgive me if I was too bold in the garden."

She gasped. "Too bold? I practically begged you to do it. After you told me that you wanted nothing more than friendship! I'm so sorry, I got carried away. I want you to know that I have no expectations of you, I understand if you regret it."

"Regret it? Kate, I am burning to kiss you again!"

"Oh." He could see her mouth fall open into a lovely oval of surprise. She tugged at a dark curl. It bounced back like a spring. "Well, what if you did? Kiss me again, I mean?" A sly smile snuck onto her mischievous face.

She didn't have to ask him twice when his body was already on fire for her. In one quick movement, he was beside her on the seat, twisting to face her. Her head was tilted up at him, her eyes glittering in the low light. He took off his glove slowly, barely daring to breathe, and ran his knuckles over her jaw. Her skin was as smooth as the petal of a rose, and he did not miss her sharp intake of breath as he caressed up the curve of her cheek, sliding his hand behind her neck.

He knew it was a bad idea. But it was the kind of bad idea that he could not resist. Marlowe kissed Kate for the second time that night. She was not as surprised this time. Her lips were slightly parted, ready, and her body was not as tense in his arms. With no one to see, he could kiss her slowly, drinking the warmth from her sumptuous mouth. Her lips were so soft and full, he could not resist kiss after kiss as one hand tangled in her hair and the other dared to caress down her neck, sweeping over her shoulder and clavicle. He felt as if he were on fire, and from the sighs escaping Kate's lips, he thought she must feel the same.

He pulled her closer and closer to him, letting his hands trail down the curve of her back to her small waist. There was no part of her he did not want to touch, did not want to feel against him. He let his tongue slip into her sweet, wet mouth and could not help the growl that escaped his lips when she moaned against him. In a swift movement, he had grabbed her, yanking her up on his lap. Before his better judgment could catch up with him, he was trailing hot kisses down her neck while his hands pried into the front of her gown. The dress was so low-cut that it was not difficult to lift out her breast.

He caressed it greedily, kissing his way down, letting his tongue slide down her burning skin. She moaned and arched against him as his tongue flicked over the pebble of her nipple. God, he wished that there was more light, more time so that he could strip her naked and drink in every inch of her beautiful body. But since there wasn't, he only sucked at her nipple, and grappled with her, flipping her so that she was sideways across the seat, propped against the side of the carriage. He leaned between her legs, grabbing at her gown, bunching up the fabric as he rocked his body against hers. He was nestled between her thighs and could feel her wetness and heat through the fabric of his breeches as he rolled the hard ridge of his cock against her. How easy it would be to slip his cock out of his breeches and inside of her. He was dying for it, for her, to feel her warmth, her wetness surround him.