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Regency Risks, Book Three
By Natasha Blackthorne
His stare pinned her and she remained rooted to the spot like a cornered hare.
He lowered his head. She felt her eyes widening. Her heart beat harder and harder, deafening thunder in her ears.
He put his mouth to hers.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t make a move.
Oh, God. Oh, God save me…
His full lips pressed hers, warm, soft, intense. She’d never known a man’s mouth to be so lushly sensual and yet so deliciously firm. From that touch, pleasure surged through her, tightening her nipples, and sending sparks of fire tingling into her belly and outward, all the way down to her toes. She couldn’t suppress the shudder that wracked her head to foot.
He lifted his head. Then he watched her, closely.
Edginess built inside her, combining with and intensifying the arousal pulsing in her blood. She licked her lips then let her breath out in a ragged sigh.
“Open to me, Rebecca.”
He’d spoken softly, oh so softly—but the steel beneath the gentleness sent shivers all over her. And not a little tingling excitement. Unable to bear the determined heat of his gaze, she stared at the bridge of his elegant
straight nose. Dazed, afraid of him, yes, holy heavens yes, but far more frightened of the feelings that were rapidly leaping to life within her.
No, this couldn’t be happening. She had kept herself safe all these years since Jon. No emotionally dangerous entanglements. She was past all of this. He should be out chasing some young opera dancer tonight. She should be home, fast asleep in her chaste bed.