Where last time she had tasted of lemonade and brandy, now she held the heady richness of wine. His hand shifted behind her head, cradling the weight of her luxurious hair against his palm as he deepened the kiss.
This time, she did not hesitate to part her lips, welcoming the brush of his tongue against hers with a little moan that left him thickening with need. Her tongue stroked his, tentatively at first and then with a need that matched his own.
Her hand lifted to his face, cold and absent gloves as well, running down the length of his neck to curl around toward the back. Desire pulsed white-hot, making him lose all sense of time. All sense of place.
There was no Vauxhall Gardens or an alcove where they might easily be seen. There was only him and Hannah and the attraction burning with an intensity neither could ignore.
She pushed against him, her curves evident through even her wrap. He trailed his hands over her, tracing the exquisite shape of her body. His cock ached as she arched toward him, straining toward her.
Her gasp whispered through their parted lips, and he knew she felt the force of his erection.
“Forgive me,” he murmured. “I…”
But she arched her hips against the length of him. The pleasure of that slight pressure gripped him, making him swallow a groan to remain as quiet as possible. But he didn’t want to quell the sounds of his desire. He wanted to growl and groan and snarl with a fervor he had never known.
He wanted this woman more than he wanted air to breathe.
Her mouth slanted over his in her mutual desire, little whimpers of enjoyment humming in the back of her throat. He kissed a path down the line of her jaw to her neck where her perfumed skin was sweet and sensual and more temptation than he could bear.
Hannah leaned her head back, giving him access as he nipped and kissed the graceful column of her throat and the delicate lobe of her ear. Her bosom was thrust toward him, and he could not stop his fingers from trailing down her neck to the edge of her bodice. A delightful exhale slipped from her lips, and he ran his fingertip along the creaminess of her skin there.
He wanted to draw the bodice down, to free her of her corset and cup her naked breasts in his hands. Instead, he skimmed down the front of her gown to where the hard point of her nipple stood against the thick fabric and lightly thumbed over it.
Her hands gripped his coat, holding onto him as he kissed away her moans.
The bud beneath his finger was so hard, so pert, he desperately longed to feel it beneath his touch. He shifted to block her entirely from view as he eased a hand into her bodice.
Hannah did not stop him but instead arched her chest toward him. His fingertips met her hot skin and found what he sought, playing over the nub adroitly as she closed her eyes with a sigh.
All he wanted was her pleasure. So it was without any thought but to her needs that he lifted the length of her skirt higher. He watched her as he did so, drowning in a sea of deep, beautiful blue until his fingers met her smooth inner thighs, and she sucked in a surprised breath.
“I want to bring you pleasure,” he softly murmured. “Your innocence will remain intact. You have my word.” His fingertips danced over her inner thigh, teasing bit by bit higher toward the apex of her legs, an area he would not touch without her permission.
She nodded and licked her lips, so they glistened in the moonlight. “Please. I’m so…”
His fingertips brushed her sex, and she gasped sharply. She was hot and wet beneath his hand. If he had her in his bed, if she were his wife, it would be so easy to plunge into her and sate his desires.
But she was not his wife. She was an innocent.
He reminded himself of this as he traced her slit with his finger before brushing the sensitive bud at the top of her sex.
Her mouth opened in a silent cry, her eyes closing against the force of her pleasure. Lucien kissed her, drinking in her moans as his fingers learned her most intimate parts. The squeeze of her thighs tightened around his hand, and a low tremble quivered at her muscles.
She was close.
He picked up his pace, moving his finger faster over her. A firework popped in the distance and illuminated the sky with a fiery gold glow. Hannah whimpered.
Several cracks and booms lit up their world in an array of colors and brilliance as her sex spasmed with the telltale sign of her release. She clung to him with fisted hands and shuddered an exhale before finally opening her eyes to gaze up at him.
The fireworks continued to play over the world around them. “That was the most exquisite thing I’ve ever experienced,” she whispered.
“It was for me too.” And it was. He would recall that moment when the light of the fireworks danced over her face as her expression became one of pure bliss during her climax.
Somewhere in the distance came a shout, followed by laughter as some chaps in their cups reveled in the chilly night. Though far away, it was a reminder that they were not alone. They were not as private as he would like them to be. Someone might see.
Good God, what had he done?
He pulled his hand from beneath her skirt and withdrew the other from her bodice. His breath came in great fogging gasps in the icy air.
The spell was broken.
What had he done?
He had taken advantage of her and pushed the kiss further than it ever should have gone. Her lips were reddened with the force of his kisses, and her eyes bright with passion. Though her hair and gown were still in place, thankfully, she looked thoroughly loved.
And in public, no less.
“Hannah.” His voice was a deep rumble, thick with desire. “I shouldn’t…of all places…I…”
She shook her head. “Don’t.” She licked her lips. “Don’t you dare say you regret this.”
“You are better than this.” He fisted a hand at his side, furious with himself, with his lack of control.
He had always been so in charge of his person. Never had he bent to his need in such a way.
But then, never had he been so tempted by a woman as he was with Miss Hannah Bexley.
His behavior had been reprehensible, especially with a lady like Hannah, who was good and pure and kind.
“Marry me,” he said abruptly. It was a clunky, poorly thought-out proposal, but he could not forgive himself the liberties he had taken with her and not offer marriage.
She gaped at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“The way I’ve behaved, it was reprehensible. I’m asking for your hand to preserve your honor.” Even as the words left his mouth, he knew they weren’t what he wanted to say.
“Preserve my honor?” She frowned, and his stomach sank. “That’s why you would wed me?”
“I’m a gentleman, and you’re a lady,” he replied. “I would never take advantage—”
“You didn’t take advantage.” Hurt replaced the desire in her eyes, glimmering with unshed tears. “I wanted…I wanted to kiss you. I wanted you to…to…do what you did…”
He had thoroughly ruined this. Again.
Damn his inability to articulate his thoughts better. But for some reason, the more something meant to him, the harder it was to compose it all into words.
“I want this,” he said vehemently. “Us. Please, marry me.”
She stared at him as if he’d asked her to cut off her hand. “No.”
With that, she darted past him from the alcove and into the dark night.