A Midnight Clear by Chasity Bowlin

Author:Chasity Bowlin
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2019-05-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

IT HAD BEEN so long since she had been kissed. Longer still since she’d been kissed by someone whose touch she desired. But those young men who had kissed her behind potted palms at balls, or during stolen moments while walking in a garden, they had been boys. Branson was anything but. She felt the scrape of his whiskers on her skin, the strength of his hand where he cupped the back of her head. He tasted of brandy and something far headier. It was only the faintest of touches, the slightest pressure of his mouth moving on hers, but that touch held a promise of so much more. Controlled, slow, seductive, measured—she found herself leaning into him, eager for him to take things further, to unleash the passion she sensed in him, the passion that she yearned for herself.

When his lips moved from hers, coasting along her jawline until he reached the tender spot just beneath her ear, Sarah shivered. “You don’t have to seduce me, Branson. I’ve made it perfectly clear I’m quite willing already.”

“This isn’t about seduction… it isn’t your consent I’m after, Sarah. It’s your pleasure. The greater the anticipation, the greater the fulfillment.”

It wasn’t something she had any real experience with. The only man she’d ever been with was her husband and her pleasure had certainly never been a priority for him. There had been moments, of course, when she’d found some pleasure in his arms, some thrill, but those had faded over time after all of his other cruelties. But she didn’t want to think of James. She didn’t want to let his ghost tarnish a moment that she wanted to treasure forever.

As his lips began to coast once more over her skin, the gentleness of his kisses juxtaposed by the rasp of his whiskers over that tender flesh, Sarah closed her eyes and gave herself up to that moment. He wanted to seduce her and she wanted desperately to be seduced, to give herself to him not just physically, but in every way that she could. It meant doing something she was unaccustomed to—surrendering any semblance of control. She was out of her depth, far more inexperienced in the ways of physical love than a widow ought to have been. For the first time, she would willingly place her trust with a man.

Every touch was a wonder. It was all pleasure and heat and the escalation of anticipation until she could scarcely breathe. When he finally settled into the chair with her draped across his lap, she was near senseless with it. His kisses were infinitely more potent than any of the brandy she had consumed. Possibly more so than the totality of brandy she’d ever consumed.

“Hurry,” she urged him. “It’ll be daybreak before you’ve even removed your clothes!”

“Would that be so terrible?” he asked, pressing kisses along her collarbone even as the weight of his hand settled on her thigh, his thumb drawing slow circles along the crest of her hip. “I can think of worse ways to spend a night than kissing every inch of you.

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