Nightingale Read Online Free PDF Page B

her kiss. “Or at least, I’ve not had a complaint.”
    Her startled gaze swung up to his. “I don’t mean to offend—”
    â€œAye, because we have a bargain,” he said derisively, mocking himself more than her.
    â€œI was thinking of how far we both have come—”
    â€œI don’t want to be reminded,” he interrupted brutally.
    â€œI can’t forget,” she returned evenly. “I remember it all, Dane. I remember how when we kissed the first time, I placed my hand on your chest like this, over your heart.”
    He could feel the heat of her palm through the layers of his clothes.
    â€œI liked to feel your heart beat,” she said. “I felt it was in time with mine.” And then she rose up on tiptoes and placed her lips on his . . . just as she had years ago for their first kiss.
    Dane went whirling back in time. He had forgotten nothing. He could even remember the smell of bread baking somewhere in the house. They’d stood in the hallway of her parents’ home, where they’d stolen a few moments alone. He’d recklessly declared his love, forgetting his well-rehearsed speech and blurting out the words. And she had answered in just this way, by placing her hand over his heart and kissing him.
    Only now this kiss was different. There were no parents or proprieties to hold him back. No foolish vows of undying devotion. No promises of tomorrow.
    But for tonight she was his. All his.
    Dane let down his guard. He shoved aside his doubts and let nature take its course. He was a man now, not a foolish boy, and he had a man’s desire. A chaste kiss was not what he wanted.
    He captured Jemma’s hand covering his heart and pulled her closer, bringing his arm around her and fitting their bodies together. Hungrily, he claimed the kiss he’d wanted, the one he’d dreamed of.
    She startled and acted ready to pull back. He wouldn’t let her. Instead he pressed, demanding her to open to him.
    Tentatively, she did, her lips parting slightly—and Dane took full advantage. Now, they were kissing. No more of this silly closed-lip nonsense. The force of desire building inside him was almost frightening. He wanted her and tonight he’d have her.
    Nor was he afraid to let Jemma know his intent. He was hard and ready. He stroked her tongue with his. She balked as if such a touch was alien to her and attempted to turn her head away. He wouldn’t let her, forcing her to accept him, while he cupped her buttocks with one hand and brought her up against his bold, hungry erection.
    One moment, there was resistance, and then she melted against him, her breasts against his chest, her thighs pressed to his. He took full advantage, deepening the kiss, burying his hands in her hair, which was even more silky to the touch than he had imagined. Suddenly, the two of them were kissing as if this was the most natural thing in the world to do. She smelled of roses and cinnamon, spicy, exotic, desirable. This was Jemma. His Jemma, the one he’d thought he’d lost.
    Dane broke off the kiss. Without hesitation, he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her on the velvet bed cover, her hair spread out around her, and began removing his coat.
    Jemma rose on her elbows. Her eyes were smoky dark, her lips already swollen from his kisses.
    She looked absolutely delicious. And he knew that right now, her heart raced with the same passionate need as his own.
    â€œShouldn’t we blow out the candles?” she asked.
    Dane tossed his coat onto a side chair. “No. I want to see you while we do this.”
    He could see he’d shocked her. He paused in the act of pulling his shirttail out of his breeches. “What is it, Jemma? Have you never made love by candlelight or during the day?”
    She swallowed and shook her head, words apparently failing her.
    So, Mosby had been a lousy lover. Good.
    Dane leaned over,