Lost in Pleasure Read Free Page B

amused him.
    Errin faltered. She so wanted to, though it went against the
grain. Or at least it would in two hundred years’ time. But right now maybe she
should go with the flow a bit? It’s not as if there would be any consequences.
How could there be? ‘I have very expensive tastes,’ she said archly. ‘You might
live to regret it.’
    ‘The only thing I will regret is not seeing you rigged out à la
mode.’
    ‘Well, I guess I’d regret that too. So thank you—I accept your
generous offer,’ Errin said, consigning her scruples to the future and kissing
him on the cheek.
    Her body pressed against his, the buttons of her coat digging
into his waistcoat. Her kiss was one of simple gratitude, given casually, as if
such intimacies were everyday. She was smiling at him, seemingly oblivious of
the effect her lithe curves were having on his libido. She didn’t seem to
appreciate how very unusual it was for a female to be so forward or to express
such unequivocal enthusiasm. Restraint to the point of indifference was de
rigueur in Richard’s society. This, more than anything, persuaded him that she
was not of his world, perhaps truly not of his time.
    He smiled down at her, meaning to share his thoughts, but as
his eyes met hers, the mood shifted. He saw precisely the moment when desire
struck her, for her smile faded, her lips softened in readiness for his kiss.
She wanted him to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her. He needed to kiss her.
    His arms went around her waist, pulling her closer. She tilted
her head. He inhaled the sweet heat of her, his body registering the way hers
melted into his, making the blood rush to his groin, knocking the breath from
him. But as his lips touched hers and she sighed and closed her eyes, he stopped
and gently disengaged himself. ‘You’d better wait here while I order the
carriage and find you a cloak to cover your clothes,’ he said, making for the
door.
    ‘I’m sorry.’
    Richard stopped in his tracks. ‘For what?’
    ‘I thought you wanted to—I obviously got the signals
wrong.’
    He examined her expression for evidence of coquettishness but
saw only an openness that was as touching as it was unusual. ‘You didn’t
misinterpret my thoughts. I find you irresistible.’
    ‘And yet you did resist. Why?’
    She was making him uncomfortable. ‘Because I am a gentleman, of
course,’ Richard said in his haughtiest manner.
    ‘Don’t gentlemen kiss, then?’ Errin persisted, her impish sense
of humour urging her to discomfit him further.
    ‘Yes they do,’ he replied, ‘but ladies do not.’
    ‘I do,’ Errin asserted before she could stop herself. ‘And if I
say so myself, I’m really rather good at it.’ She normally disapproved of
blatant flirting—it was a complete no-no. But here, with this totally un-PC man,
it seemed like the right thing to do, and she refused to feel guilty. Feminism
hadn’t even been invented, right? Errin licked her lips provocatively, a silly
trick she’d used to practise in front of the mirror as a teenager and had never
utilised. She was astonished to see it worked. Richard’s eyes widened. His
pupils darkened. He threw her a hungry look. A look that in twenty-first-century
Manhattan would have earned him a sarcastic put-down. Here in Regency England,
all Errin could think of was how to encourage him to look at her in just such a
way again.
    He covered the short distance between them practically before
she could blink, wrapping his arms around her and moulding her body against his.
The soft knitted material of his pantaloons could not disguise his arousal. She
pressed against it, relishing the length and satisfying hardness of it, making
him gasp in surprise.
    His hands tightened on her shoulders. Her heart began to race.
Her blood began to heat. She felt dizzy, aching with anticipation, that
stomach-wrenching roller-coaster thing again. A surge of desire spread to every
part of her body. She hadn’t expected that. Any of it. She’d