You have witchcraft in your lips.
Henry V
Act 5 Scene 2
Avalon’s breath hitched as Devan moved closer. Her entire body felt as if a burst of electricity had arched between them, setting her alive. For the first time in ages, she wanted a man to hold her. She wanted a man to kiss her. She wanted to lose herself in Devan’s arms and never be found.
Inch by inch, he moved nearer. In response, she did the same with her heart pounding in approval. With his breath fanning her lips, she forced her gaze to his. “Devan, I want…”
The words came from a place inside so deep, so forlorn, that she hardly recognized herself.
Without answering the undeniable plea in her voice, he closed the distance between them. Like a touch of a feather, he brushed his lips against hers. Before she could grow accustomed to the indescribable heat of his mouth against hers, he drew away and looked at her as if memorizing every feature of her face.
This time she did moan in protest. After so many years to be denied the feel of lips against hers was a sin against humanity. She leaned forward shamelessly to capture his mouth against hers again. Awkwardly, her nose bumped against his chin. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I want to kiss you as much as you want to kiss me.” He moved closer, and his mouth descended to claim hers deliberately and with tender care.
This time his lips pressed against hers, and she could do nothing except push her body close to his as if seeking him—ready to claim him. He tasted of brandy and mint, and she wanted to drown in it. Instinctively, her arms curled around his neck, holding tightly while she pressed her chest against his. Immediately, her breasts grew heavy, aching for him as her nipples tightened into painful points as if pouting for him to give them attention.
When his arms encircled her waist, she sighed against his mouth and he pulled her tighter against him. The buttons of his waistcoat were a delicious torment, and she wiggled against them, seeking relief.
He nipped her lower lip playfully, and she tried to return the gesture. When she opened her mouth, he slanted his mouth over hers and his tongue slipped inside. It was heaven. For the life of her she couldn’t remember ever sharing anything so personal and intimate with another person. His tongue slowly danced with hers and she groaned in appreciation as hers matched each intricate movement.
He drew back slightly, and she could tell by his rapid breath that he was as affected as she was. “Avalon,” he whispered.
The sound of her name made everything inside her soften to molten heat. With infinite care, she kissed him again. At first, she teased him by sweeping her lips across his. When he made to deepen the kiss, she pulled away. He allowed her to play before capturing her lips with his. The caress turned sweet and tender, then, like a wildfire, it became a force to be reckoned with.
Eventually, he was the first to pull away, and she protested with a whimper. His breathing had grown ragged, and he rested his brow against hers.
“We must stop.” He pressed his lips against her forehead.
Her own breath raced as if trying to keep up with her frantic heartbeat. “Why? Am I doing it wrong?” Even to her own ears, she sounded like a petulant child having a treat taken away. “You could teach me. With your experience, it shouldn’t take long.”
He pulled away from her.
She’d been denied such pleasure all her life. For once in her life, he made her feel and believe she deserved it. She’d never coveted a physical closeness with another like she had with him tonight.
“It’s not a matter of experience, Avalon. These aren’t ordinary kisses, are they?” He waited for her to answer.
Instead she pressed her face against his neck cloth and inhaled deeply. The smell of starch and orange bergamot along with the stiffness of his cravat combined into a maelstrom of sensual excess. She wanted to bury herself in it.
“Are you afraid to do more because I’m your benefactress? Please don’t be.” God, she wanted more kisses and more of him. It was paradise in his arms, and his kisses tasted of ambrosia straight from the gods. But a startling truth grabbed ahold and woke her from the sensual dream they’d created. If he told his brother Larkton what she’d said or done, Thane would be ripped from her and Warwyk within a week. After one last deep inhale, she forced herself to back away from him.
The sharpness of his gaze told her he missed nothing when he studied a person. He was much too intelligent not to know how much she wanted him.
“I got carried away,” Avalon offered. She pressed a hand against her pounding heart with the unintended effect of her arm pressing against her hardened nipples. How would she survive the cold of the night and the deluge of new sensations that were her new companions?
“We both did,” he answered. The tenderness in his voice immediately made her wary.
One kiss from Devan Farris, and she’d turned into a lovesick fool. No wonder he was so popular with ladies. She straightened her shoulders as she struggled with how to address what would happen next.
“This whole night should stay a secret. If word got out, I’m concerned … your brother would take Thane.” Memories of Richard’s threats that he’d take her son resurfaced. The fears and horrors of his rants grew. She gulped a breath of air, desperate to flush away the haunting reminder.
He silenced her with a finger against her lips. It only took one look at the affection shining from his eyes, and she felt as if she were falling endlessly headfirst down the tallest cliff at Dover.
“Avalon, what happened between us is no one’s business but ours. Larkton will never hear of it from me. If you choose to tell him, that’s your prerogative.”
She swallowed the fear that had lodged in her throat. “I’d hoped we could keep this private.”
“Of course.” He dipped his head until his gaze met hers. “But this does change things between us.”
“How so? Aren’t I just another in the long line of women…” She let the words trail to nothing as she immediately regretted their tartness. “That was unbecoming of me.”
He trailed a finger down her cheek as he slowly took in every one of her features. “What am I going to do with you?” The affection in his voice was mesmerizing. “I know you well enough to recognize the defensiveness in your tone. You don’t have to shield yourself from me as there’s nothing to fear. I won’t hurt you.” He traced her lips with his forefinger, the touch incredibly erotic. “Do you want another secret of mine?”
She nodded as if mesmerized by him.
Which she was—completely and irrefutably entranced by him tonight.
“Do you know why I call you Lady Warlock?”
Without her gaze leaving his, she shook her head slowly.
“Because like a witch, you’ve completely enchanted me.”
She blinked slowly. Was he just saying it out of kindness or did she dare hope there was a kernel of truth in his words? Her heart thudded so loudly against her chest Devan had to hear it.
He took his greatcoat and spread it around them. “Now, I think we’d best figure out a way to stay warm.”
Unable to hold his breath any longer, Devan slowly exhaled. By now, Avalon’s breathing had taken on a regular pattern. She was sound asleep.
Somehow or other, the Marchioness of Warwyk lay between his arms with her body encased between his legs. Her delicious backside was nestled up against his groin. If this was heaven’s idea that he needed to glimpse the amount of temptation Christ had to resist from the Devil, there was no need.
The wooden cases he rested against dug into his backside, and frankly, he could have cared less. All he could think about was Avalon’s soft body lying against his. Her sweet scent warmed by their combined body heat filled the air and made his nostrils flare. His arms tightened an infinitesimal amount, as if already claiming her as his while his body had magically matched her rhythmic breathing.
Of the smattering of kisses he’d experienced in his life, nothing matched the touch of her lips against his. She was sweeter than the finest wine he’d ever tasted. He could have easily spent their entire night together learning what she liked.
But as sure as the sun would rise in the morning, a hundred kisses would never be enough to learn all the secrets of Avalon.
But not everything was heaven.
Devan’s own body betrayed him with a raging erection that had kept him awake all night.
Every move or sigh on Avalon’s part caused the damn thing to swell as if trying to reach her. He’d tried to move once or twice with the end result of Avalon moaning slightly against him as his cock dug into her perfect backside.
Once he’d made the foolish mistake of leaning until he could bury his face into the soft skin of her neck. He wanted to trace the slope of her neck with his nose until he reached her ear, where he’d tell her all the things he’d imagined he could do with her.
Only, in his imagination, they were married. He let out his own sigh, and in response Avalon burrowed deeper against him.
Which caused his cock to twitch like a racehorse ready to break free from its stall.
This was pure and simple torment, but it was incredibly sweet and sincere. If someone had told him a week ago that he would have kissed Avalon then slept with her all night, he’d have called them a fool. But tonight, just that very thing had happened. What made it all that more astounding was that she’d wanted more of him—more kisses, more of him, everything.
He did too. But as the vicar of the community and as a person who believed that marriage came first, he had to stop before he betrayed his values.
Avalon twisted again and moaned. She rested her head against his chest, and her midsection rested against his groin now. Of course, his cock was currently throwing a temper tantrum as heaven waited so near to his pant falls, yet so far. Gently, and with as much ease as he possessed, Devan turned her slightly away.
Once she was settled again, Devan allowed himself to stroke her hair. She’d taken it down, or more aptly, it had fallen down on its own. Unable to resist the rich, luxurious chestnut locks, Devan allowed his fingers to glide through the silken softness of her curls.
Her chignon had been pinned so tightly, it was a miracle she could turn her head and didn’t suffer from a headache. But Devan had watched as her hair fell out of its rigorous confines. As if sprung free from jail, the soft curls seemed to bounce with glee down her back.
Funny, but his Warlock’s hair style suited her perfectly. It was tight and controlled on the outside, but on the inside that’s where all the softness resided. Just like her.
After tonight, so many things made sense. Avalon had attacked him the night that Annie Dozier had her baby because she’d thought he’d been making a unilateral decision without consulting her—without considering her wants and needs.
Devan had made the decision singlehandedly, but only because he’d been concerned for her welfare. No wonder she’d lashed out at him in anger. When she’d confessed what she’d suffered in life with her parents and Warwyk, Devan had been filled with fury. After hearing the story, all he’d wanted to do was get out of the cellar where he’d have been free to dig up the Marquess of Warwyk out of the ground, then damn him to hell.
Which was probably a wasted effort since that’s where the former marquess surely resided. All the people she’d had in her early life, the ones who should have protected Avalon, probably gave more consideration to their hunting dogs than to her.
Without giving it a second thought, Devan pressed his lips against the crown of her head. He breathed his fill of her sweetness, then held it as long as he could before releasing it. For all of his days, he’d remember this night when perfection resided in his arms. He pulled her a little tighter against him, and she mildly protested with a moan.
He lightened his grip and she snuggled closer.
“Devan,” she whispered, turning until they lay chest to chest.
In response, he rubbed his lips across her head again.
“Have you heard anything?” she murmured.
“No. I’ve been listening.” The heat of her breath against his linen shirt felt as if she’d just kissed him.
She pushed against his chest, creating distance. Every instinct told him to pull her tight, but he let her go.
“I can’t get comfortable,” she grumbled in a sleepy voice. “There’s something prodding me.” She wrestled with his coat and sat up slightly. She reached between them, and before he could stop her, she pushed against his swollen member.
He grunted in response, then grabbed her hand before it became any more unbearable while his cock struggled against the falls of his breeches. It took every ounce of self-control not to pull her hand to him.
“Oh heavens,” she whispered. “Did I … Are you in pain?”
“Ignore it,” he drawled slightly. “It’s always seeking attention.”
“What if I can’t ignore it?” She dipped her head and looked intently at his breeches.
“Don’t stare. That’ll only make it worse,” he sighed. “It thrives on being the center of attention.”
“You talk as if”—she waved her hand toward his groin—“it has a mind of its own.”
“It does,” he answered, then blinked in earnest.
One lone candle hissed as if entertained by their conversation.
She shook her head, then raked her fingers through her hair, trying to tame the wild curls. The sight was another lesson in erotic torture.
“Did I cause that?” she asked without looking at him.
He’d be lucky if he survived the night.
“The simple answer is yes. All night, it’s been having its very own soiree.” Desperate to touch her, he reached up and pushed several renegade curls behind her ear. “It can only be described as a rout.” Could their conversation about his member become anymore ridiculous?
Her attention was devoted to the lone candle that remained lit. Though there was little light, he could plainly see the flush that kissed her cheeks.
She tilted her head and examined him. A hint of a smile tugged at her lips, making her even more attractive than he’d ever seen her before. With her tousled hair and the beautiful blush on her cheeks, she looked like a woman who’d been loved thoroughly and completely.
Not that he would know what such a woman would look like, but he did have an imagination. And in his dreams, his lover looked like her—right now in this very moment before him. The urge to take her in his arms grew, but he fisted his hands.
“Devan.” The sultry, sweet sound of his name on her lips must have been what those sailors from long ago had heard when the sirens’ song called for them to leap to their doom. He’d willingly go overboard if he could hear his name on her lips again in that same intimate and seductive manner.
He ran a hand over his face. For heaven’s sake, he needed to get control of his body and the situation. He should be tired after no sleep. He was a vicar and not a schoolboy with his first crush. He should act accordingly.
“I want to thank you.” The sound of her whispered words pierced his chest and hit the bullseye on his heart.
“Why?” he managed to croak out.
She dipped her head shyly. “You’re the first man who has ever had … that type of affliction because of me.”
He groaned. Forty days with the devil breathing down his neck would be child’s play compared to eight hours with Avalon.