First Kisses: a Book+Main Bites anthology

by Book+Main Inc.

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  Can She Tempt Her Duke?

  Joanne Wadsworth

  Agitated over the current war Napoleon had enforced upon them, Lady Ellie stepped back from Ashten and followed the gravel path past a pink flowering bush toward the gazebo in the corner. The gazebo stood supremely elegant, painted a splendid white with ivy climbing one side and a white rose bush the other. She grasped her skirts and walked up the two steps then eased down onto the bench rimming the side. She rearranged her skirts and tugged the sides of Ashten’s jacket more firmly at the front. “What of Wellington?”

  “Wellington continues to hold onto the hope that Emperor Alexander the First won’t stand aside and allow Russia to remain in chaos. The moment Alexander chooses to change his country’s foreign policy and join with us again, Wellington will be there to stand beside him and ensure Napoleon is halted in his endeavors to take over all of Europe.” Ashten sat on the bench next to her, tucked his cane under the bench and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. “Are you still cold?”

  “Less so now.” Goodness, she feared for her brother fighting across the English Channel. “This all means more warring and an inevitable loss of life. Harry will fight to the death to ensure our protection, that those of us here in England remain safe and well.”

  “All our men will fight, and they won’t stop until Napoleon surrenders and this war is done.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re shaking.”

  “Because I need to tell you something of a personal nature, and I need for you to listen to me.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t have any need to speak to me at all.” He removed his arm from her shoulders and frowned at his hands. “I do apologize. I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries between us, only the more I’m around you, the more I forget myself.”

  “You can forget yourself around me as often as you please.”

  “That sounded rather brazen, Ellie.”

  “Maybe it’s time for a little brazen between us.”

  “I have no need for a wife.” He shook his head. “We had this conversation during your last visit.”

  “Yes, and I’m well aware you’ve no desire for that wife to be me.” She tried to give him her most condescending look, only she likely failed since he arched his brow in that way he did when he saw right through her.

  “I’ve taken mistresses in the past,” he blurted, “and they satisfy any demands I have quite nicely.”

  “Ashten!” Heat flared in her cheeks, and although she should remain quiet, she also couldn’t help but appreciate Ashten’s current honesty with her. “What I mean is, ah, are all men who don’t wish to take a wife inclined to feel that way? That they could simply take a mistress to satisfy their body’s demands?”

  “No, not all men feel that way.” His gaze narrowed, the piercing blue darkening to a midnight shade.

  “I’ve kissed only two men,” she blurted this time.

  “Who? Wait.” He held up a hand. “No, don’t tell me.”

  “I would have only kissed one man, other than for the fact that I needed to know if the first man was any good at kissing, so I kissed the second man to be sure.”

  “And your decision on those kisses?”

  “I truly didn’t care for either of them. I thought kissing would be more enchanting, or at least leaving me with the desire for more than a single kiss, to wish for a second or a third with the same gentleman.”

  “They obviously kissed you respectfully.”

  “There are two ways to kiss someone?”

  “Yes, there certainly is.”

  “How intriguing, although I can hardly ask a man to kiss me, ah, without respect, so I might learn the difference.”

  “How does your brother deal with you?” He shook his head and blew out a long breath.

  “With great entertainment.” She couldn’t help her giggle.

  “Let me show you what a disrespectful kiss is then.” He held out his hand then arched a brow. “Put your hand in mine, and I’ll take that as a yes of your acceptance.”

  “You’ll truly kiss me? Disrespectfully?” She’d always wished for such a moment as this, and since this might be the only opportunity she ever had, she placed her gloved hand in his and showed her ready acceptance with her actions.

  “You are far too trusting.”

  “You would never hurt me.”

  “Let’s hope not.” Gently, he turned her hand over and finger by finger, tugged on the soft silk until he’d removed her glove then done, dropped it onto the bench beside him and brought her palm to his mouth. With one warm and incredibly soft kiss against her skin, the midnight blue of his eyes twinkling bright, he asked, “Are you ready?”

  “Is there anything I need to do during this disrespectful kiss?”

  “No, not a thing.” As the opening notes of a waltz floated toward them from the ballroom, he rose and drew her to her feet, then slowly, carefully, he pulled her into his arms.

  “I can’t believe we’re about to dance.”

  “And kiss.”

  “Yes, that too.” She placed her gloved hand on his shoulder, her ungloved hand still held firm in his. Never had she ever danced this close to a gentleman before. Six inches was the required etiquette, and there was less than three inches between them right now. “You look dashing, as if you’ve dressed for this ball tonight, then chose to remain indoors.”

  “Since we’re being honest, I was extremely tempted to come.” He swept her around the inner circle of his gazebo, his hand firm on her waist and his limp barely noticeable. “Did you have to dance”—he cleared his gruff throat—“with quite so many men tonight?”

  “Yes, but I much prefer dancing here with you right now.” Her legs wobbled. Was Ashten truly going to kiss her? Perhaps he was simply testing her, to see if she really did have a suitor she intended on eloping with. If he was, then she’d have to take great care.

  “There’s an allure to a disrespectful kiss. Do you want to know what it is?” He leaned in closer, his breath whispering across her lips.

  “Tell me.” She sucked in a breath, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

  “It’s called the danger that awaits with the conclusion of that kiss. Does one simply stop, or does one continue with a second disrespectful kiss?”

  Ashen barely held his restraint in check. From the second he’d stepped inside the gazebo with Ellie, he’d known he’d be holding her in his arms before he could allow her to leave. She’d captivated him tonight, as well as sent every sound and reasonable thought disappearing right from his head. “Are you ready?” he asked her, far beyond ready himself.

  “I am.” She swiped her tongue across her lips and dampened them in the way a woman did right before she wished to be kissed, and her golden eyes, they shimmered all bright and beautiful, her hand trembling in his. “Please, Ashten, kiss me.”

  Never had he felt so alive as he did in this moment. Over the years, he’d taken the odd mistress or casual lover wherever possible, women who’d always held golden tresses and pouty lips, only not one of his lovers had ever been her—Lady Ellie Marie Trentbury. Never would they be either.

  He lowered his head and unable to hold back a second longer, covered her mouth with his and kissed her, just as he’d always wished to kiss her. He licked across the seam of her lips and when she gasped, he slipped his tongue between those delectable lips and stroked across her tongue. “Come closer,” he murmured against her lips.

  “We’re already quite close.” Although she arched her back and pressed her breasts firmer into his chest, her breath mingling so seductively with his.

  “That’s perfect.” Gently, he sucked on her indecently full lower lip then indulged in his desires and kissed her deep
er.

  “Oh my.” She dug her fingers into his shoulders and his passion rose powerfully, just as hers did too. “I can’t believe we’re kissing.”

  “Neither can I.” He pushed her up against the gazebo wall and hands sliding under the jacket he’d given her, he caressed down her sides and roamed over her lush bottom.

  “Ashten?” Her breathing escalated. “I feel so much.”

  “Pierce.”

  Her wide eyes searched his. “That’s your first name?”

  “Yes, Pierce Luke Blackgale.” He’d come into his title early in life and had always been known as Ashten.

  She smiled and firmed her grip on his shoulders. “Would you please kiss me again, Pierce?”

  For more Bites by Joanne Wadsworth, visit her at https://bookandmainbites.com/JoanneWadsworth

  If you loved this Bite, read The Duke’s Bride on Amazon or on iBooks

  About Joanne Wadsworth

  Joanne Wadsworth is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author who adores getting lost in the world of romance, no matter what era in time that might be. Hot alpha Highlanders hound her, demanding their stories are told and she’s devoted to ensuring they meet their match, whether that be with a feisty lass from the present or far in the past. Living on a tiny island at the bottom of the world, she calls New Zealand home. Big-dreamer, hoarder of chocolate, and addicted to juicy watermelons since the age of five, she chases after her four energetic children and has her own hunky hubby on the side. So come and join in all the fun, because this kiwi girl promises to give you her “Hot-Highlander” oath, to bring you a heart-pounding, sexy adventure from the moment you turn the first page. This is where romance meets fantasy and adventure… To learn more about Joanne and her works, visit: Website: http://www.joannewadsworth.com

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  First Kiss

  MC D’Alton & Melanie Page

  Beauden swallowed hard. He was not comfortable speaking words of love. Not since his mother died had he mentioned love to a woman. But how could he fail to speak now? The words wanted to be out, they were threatening to choke him in their eagerness to be heard. His breathing had become more difficult and his corroded heart throbbed within his chest, aching like an open wound. Still, he could not talk to her like this, like a captive bound on a sacrificial altar. He needed to sit with her, take her hand …

  “Galena, will you do something for me?”

  It seemed as though her words were slow in coming. “Anything.” She stood just inches from the bed. “What do you need?”

  “Be careful not to get too close to the bed, but could you turn this off, and undo my straps?”

  “But …”

  “Please Galena. I will rest later.” When his eyes met hers he could sense her desire and her reluctance. Her feelings as a woman were in conflict with the medical imperative. “Just at this moment I need to look you in the eye and talk to you about what happened this morning.”

  He hoped that she had not heard the desperation in his voice. Right now he felt as though he would suffocate if he did not speak.

  She managed to gauge the interval between the passage of the arms then reached in and pressed the lever. Instantly the rotations began to slow. In a few seconds they had ground to a halt. The cogs yawned and groaned as she depressed the handle that lowered the bed flat and, when it stopped, reached over to loosen the leather straps at chest and hip.

  Beauden sat up. “Will you sit here beside me?”

  Galena picked up her muslin skirts and perched on the edge of the bed, then wriggled back. They sat close, almost touching at the hip. The sudden proximity when his mind was so full of her was a trifle overwhelming. His apology and explanation no longer seemed to be most crucial. He found himself drowning in her chocolate gaze. The last vestiges of coherent thought or syllable scattered like hens, faced with a fox. Common sense followed shortly on their heels. He felt himself seared from within, like iron in a forge. His hands rose and touched her shoulder, her chin, her jaw.

  “Galena.”

  The word was an homage; half purr, half prayer. He leaned forward and met her luscious pink lips with his pale blue ones. They met as ice and fire do, with a sizzle that he had not expected. He was so caught up in the sense of rapture that it was a moment before he realised that she was not passive. Not at all. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted just a fraction to allow him access. The heat in her pulled him in; deeper, hungrier, needier. Her soft sigh against his lips nearly broke him.

  At her urging, he deepened the kiss while his hands resisted the delectable bosom pressed against his and instead slid up her lovely neck to cradle her skull. One of her hands caressed the line of his jaw. The other sat on his thigh and slid higher, seeking his waist.

  Her lips were a meadow in high summer and he was the bee, dizzy with plunder. He could taste the sweetness of her honey. The skin at her nape was smoothest satin, her hair was silk. He wound an errant curl around an index finger and luxuriated in its tender embrace.

  His lips left hers and slid, via her jaw, to the soft hollow below the ear. Galena groaned and her hands tugged his shirt free then slid beneath it. He felt her hands slide across the restrictive corset and his lungs locked. They traveled up to the top of the tight linen sheath and caressed the skin under his shirt, tracing a light pattern over his flesh. The sensation was dizzying and as he met her lips with his again, an urgent intemperate desire surged through him. A strange sensation, one he’d come to know from waking after a sinful dream, overtook him. For a second the desire he felt disappeared in a wave of shame. He moved the hand that had been loving her so gently and dropped it in his lap to hide the evidence of his lust.

  “I’m sorry. I should stop.”

  She opened her eyes. Somehow she knew that stopping was not his desire. She looked down and lifted his hand from his lap, then laced her fingers through it. “Whatever for?”

  He looked at the wall opposite and willed his body to be more discreet. It refused. He felt her lips on his again. This time she led and he would follow her anywhere. He looked into her eyes. He’d never known chocolate could burn. He saw, not the warmth he was accustomed to, but a bonfire of need and hunger that matched his own.

  “Don’t stop.” Her head shook just enough to brush her lips over his like a caress. “I’m honoured, if you must know, that you feel this way about me.”

  “You are not like most women, darling Galena.”

  “You are not like most men, my dear one.”

  “No, I am not.” His tone was not pride, but sorrow. “And though I love you desperately, you deserve a man who can offer you a whole body.”

  The light in her eyes was fierce. “Your body is whole, my darling, and so is your heart. You are more, so much more, than any man I have ever met, Beauden Somerton.” And she pulled him into a deep current of passion until they were both swept away.

  For more Bites by MC D’Alton, visit her at https://bookandmainbites.com/IamWriter

  If you loved this Bite, read Iron Heart on Amazon

  About MC D’Alton

  MC D'Alton writes spicy contemporary romance and spicy fantasy romance with a Celtic flavour. Her latest project is a Science Fiction and Fantasy adventure romance. MC D'Alton's South African heritage brings a gritty edge to her writing that packs a powerful emotional punch. MC writes tough, strong heroines and hero's evolved enough to handle them.

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  The Countess He Didn’t Marry

  Monica Burns

>   “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled. His anger was almost as furious as it had been at the cottage, but this time she wasn’t afraid of him.

  “Getting ready to take a bath?” she said sarcastically.

  “This game of yours has gone far enough, madam. I demand to know why you aren’t in your usual bedchamber.”

  “It’s a mausoleum, and I asked Mrs. Beechum for a different room.

  “And you selected this room out of all the other bedrooms in the house.” The icy pond she’d plunged into earlier could not have felt colder on her skin as the earl’s green eyes pinned his harsh gaze on her. Victoria shook her head in confusion.

  “I liked the room. It’s warm and cozy. I feel safe here.”

  “You expect me to believe you had no other reason for selecting this particular room?” Despite his outrage, she saw puzzlement darken his gaze.

  “What other reason would I have?”

  At her reply, he limped forward and caught her by the arm then half dragged her out of the bathroom. With a vicious jerk, he opened the door she’d not opened and pointed to the opposite end of the short corridor.