Free My Unfair Lady by Kathryne Kennedy Page B

her lips wider with the pressure of his own. She lay locked between his mouth and the hand at the back of her neck, grateful for the support, for surely she'd have collapsed by now, turned into a quivering mass of need. She groaned, and he took advantage of the opening, plunging his tongue into her mouth, once, twice, until she felt a hot surge of warmth between her legs, a pulse as if something there tried to reach for him, to be caressed and fondled just as skillfully and surely as he did her mouth.
       Summer never knew a kiss could be like this. A thing of such passion that it consumed her entire body, and made her want, need… that other thing. The one thing she'd sought from Monte… that he couldn't give her, not like this man could.
       How she knew this, she wasn't sure, but her body did, infusing her with strength, so that she fought against his tongue to plunge her own into his mouth. He groaned and pulled her tighter, pushing her backward on the seat, his body half over her own, his other hand—the one that wasn't busy burying itself in the hair at the back of her neck—caressed the top of her breasts with a kneading motion that pulled them farther out of her bodice, until the tips of her nipples were finally freed to be lightly pinched and tugged, until the wave of heat between her legs erupted into a liquid warmth.
       She should be appalled, she knew. No one had ever touched her breasts before, had handled her in such an intimate way, not even Monte.
       Monte.
       Summer couldn't believe what she was doing. She'd already given one man her word of undying love, and at the mere touch of a kiss, she was ready to betray him. With a man who didn't even like her!
       She turned her face away, fought to catch her breath and still the clamoring need in her body. "We can't do this."
       "The hell we can't." His mouth, deprived of her lips, sought her breasts.
       Summer couldn't let that skillful mouth take over where his hands had been… "I'm an American!"
       "Who gives a damn?"
       "You did five minutes ago."
       "Stupidly prejudiced."
       Summer felt his tongue graze her nipple with liquid heat. She had to say anything , she thought, anything to stop him . She couldn't believe that she'd ever complained that her passion always overwhelmed that of a man. Not his. Never his. She'd met her match; no, more than her match, and it terrified her.
       What had they been talking about before? "Chatto," she chattered. "He taught me to use a knife, gave me my first kiss. Thought I'd be his warrior woman—and I almost did! My coatis, so like big dogs that I named them Whiner and Fighter, they raised me too. Don't you see, no matter how much you teach me, I'll always be an uncultured…"
       He nuzzled her neck, every muscle in his body taut, refusing to pull away from her. But she could tell that he finally listened.
       "I'll never be able to marry you. I can never be a duchess and make you a good wife. I'll be lucky if I can become a lady…"
       "Marriage?" The duke shot off her so quickly, he bumped his head against the roof of the brougham. "Who the bloody hell said anything about marriage? And you had me convinced you weren't a title-hunter. Hah! You're just like the rest of them, trying to trap a man into marriage, just so people will have to call you duchess!"
       Summer tried not to grin. So, she'd hit on the magic word, had she? The one word that could turn this man's lust cold? She'd have to remember that.
       She sat up and pushed her breasts back down into her bodice and took a good calming breath. She'd have to take a bath tonight, she decided, to cool the things this man had done to her body. She'd discovered that although the piped water might be considered warm here, it never filled her bath with anything approaching that temperature. Who would've thought she'd ever be grateful for that chilly water?
       "Please be calm, Your Grace. If you recall,