11
" Do you know what Aunt Marmoset told me once? She compared you to a spice drop. Overpowering and hard at first, but all sweetness at the center. I’ll admit, I’ve been desperate to try an experiment.” She gave him a teasing look. “How many times do you suppose I could lick you before you crack?”
His every muscle tightened.
Smiling, she tucked her face into the curve of his neck and ran her tongue seductively over his skin. “There’s one.”
“Katie.” The word was a low, throaty warning. It made her toes curl.
She nuzzled at the notch of his open shirt, pushing the fabric aside. The familiar musk of his skin stirred her in deep places.
With a teasing swirl of her tongue, she tasted the notch at the base of his throat. “Two . . .”
“Finn,” he called in a booming voice, lifting his head. “Send for the vicar.”
She pulled back, shocked. “Two? That’s all, truly? Two? I’m not sure whether to feel proud or disappointed. "
― Tessa Dare , A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove, #3)
15
" His grip firmed on her arms. “I’m here. You’re not alone now.”
Hardly poetry, those words. A simple statement of fact. They scarcely shared the same alphabet as kindness. If true comfort were a nourishing, wholemeal loaf, what he offered her were a few stale crumbs.
It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. She was a starving girl, and she hadn’t the dignity to refuse.
“I’m so sorry,” she managed, choking back a sob. “You’re not going to like this.”
And with that, Kate fell into his immense, rigid, unwilling embrace—and wept. "
― Tessa Dare , A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove, #3)
19
" You’re not beneath me. I’d never think that.”
Yes, you are beneath her, he reminded himself, bracing against the forbidden bliss coursing through his veins. And don’t dare imagine you’ll ever be atop her. Or curled behind her. Or buried deep inside her while she—
Bloody hell. The fact that he could even think such a thing. He was crude, disgusting. So undeserving of even this slight caress. Her gesture was made out of guilt, offered in apology. If he took advantage, he would be a devil.
He knew all this.
But he flexed his arms anyway, drawing her close.
“You’re worried you’ve hurt my feelings,” he murmured.
She nodded, just a little.
“I don’t have those.”
“I forgot.”
Amazing. He marveled at her foolishness. After all he’d said to her, she would worry about him? Within this small, slight woman lived so much untapped affection, she couldn’t help but squander it on music pupils and mongrel dogs and undeserving brutes. What was it like, he wondered, to live with that bright, glowing star in her chest? How did she survive it?
If he kissed her deeply enough and held her tight—would some of its warmth transfer to him? "
― Tessa Dare , A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove, #3)
