Her fingers itched to touch his hair. And to trace along his jaw, to brush over those lips—more, she wanted to kiss those lips. Those full yet strong lips that even now twisted into a lazy grin as he audaciously returned her stare, as if he knew exactly what improper thoughts were racing through her mind.
She lost count of the number of dances they shared, but not the number of times he smiled at her. Nor could she ignore the electric tingle that sparked through her with every brush of his hand against hers, or the heat that blossomed inside her from the way he watched her…the way he made her feel as if she were truly as beautiful as he’d claimed.
When the dance ended, she was breathless and beaming. The masquerade was proving to be the grandest night of her life, and all because of this man, whose real name she still didn’t know. Whenever she’d asked during the dance for his given name, he’d only murmured, “Later,” then circled away.
“My lady.” A deep voice at her shoulder caught her attention, and she turned to find a man beside her dressed as a tiger. But for all his finery, he sorely lacked in comparison to her panther. “May I request the next dance?”
“I’m terribly sorry,” he interjected as he stepped to her side with an easy-going smile that belied the sudden tensing she sensed in him at the approach of the other gentleman. “Lady Swan has given her evening to me.”
He took her arm and led her away toward the wall of French doors that opened onto the garden terrace and let in the fresh night air to cool the crowded room.
“Lady Swan has, has she?” He wouldn’t be able to see the arched brow beneath her mask, but from his low chuckle she knew he heard it in her voice.
He leaned down to bring his mouth close to her ear. “At least, I hope she will.”
A shiver swept through her, and not from the cool evening air as he led her outside onto the terrace and into the shadows, where they could finally be alone.
“Perhaps she would,” she countered playfully as she stepped away, her hand trailing up his arm as she moved past, “
He grinned at her obstinacy. “John.”
Her shoulders sagged.
“For tonight, yes.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips, to place a lingering kiss of apology against her fingers. “If you learn more, you might not like me so much.”
“I certainly hope so, because you have utterly captivated me.”
At a loss for words, she melted, sinking against the marble balustrade behind her.
He stepped toward her to close the distance between them. Not releasing her hand or breaking eye contact, he eased the long white glove down her arm and off. This time when he kissed her fingers, there was nothing between his warm lips and her bare skin.
The sensation was overwhelming, and a soft sigh eased from her lips.
“I want to kiss you.” He turned her hand over to touch his lips to her palm.
She swallowed. Hard. “I think you are.”
“A proper kiss.” His mouth trailed up to her wrist, and he smiled against her pounding pulse at discovering the effect he had on her. “To taste the sweetness of you.”
God help her, she wanted exactly that. More daring than she’d ever been with a man before, she caressed her bare hand over his jaw. The warmth and strength of him pulsated beneath her fingertips.
“Then kiss me.” Her answer was nothing more than a breath. “Please, John.”
Closing her eyes, she held her breath. He leaned forward and touched his lips to hers, then moved away.
Her eyes fluttered open, bewildered. Was that all? Disappointment rang hollowly through her. It was barely a kiss, when she’d craved so much more!
Sensing her frustration, he placed another delicate kiss to the corner of her mouth, then slid his lips across her cheek, following the line of her mask to her ear. “If we were alone,” he promised her, each word a titillating warmth that tickled over her skin, “truly alone, without fear of anyone stumbling upon us, I would give you that kiss. And so much more.”
To make his point, he traced the tip of his tongue along the outer curl of her ear and sent a shiver of heat shuddering through her. Her hands slipped lower to his chest, to clutch at his lapels and keep him right there with her. So close that the heat of his body warmed her front, that his masculine scent of leather, port, and cigars filled up her senses and made her head swirl.
“But tonight,” he warned, “we must make do with what we can steal.”
He removed his glove and caressed his thumb over her bottom lip while he took her earlobe between his lips and gently sucked. A sound of longing fell from her, and she touched the tip of her tongue to his thumb, to encourage him to give more caresses, more stolen kisses.
