Friends for a decade, Camille Bereston and her step-brother, Pierece Hanniford suddenly discover they ant more from their relationship. Here in their first kiss, they learn that more means a new way of thinking too.
They go on to a glorious few weeks discovering more than kisses in this family saga series, THOSE NOTORIOUS AMERICANS!
EXCERPT, RAVISHING CAMILLE. Copyright, 2021, Cerise DeLand. All rights reserved,
“How would you kiss a woman you loved?” Oh, yes. She was a fool to ask.
But in her curiosity, she knew power. Because he blinked and yet he did not pull away, she had the control. Instead, he stood immobile as she stepped against him. She lifted on her toes, for he was so tall. And she slanted her head to one side, her gaze fastened on his, her mouth a heartbeat away from his. “How would you?”
“Camille.” Her name was not a sound.
She heard it as a warning, but took it as an appeal. One she’d waited for nearly half her life. One she would take advantage of now. For if anything, she was a woman of action. And in regard to him, she’d always been a woman of desire.
She sought purchase with her fingers going round his upper arms. “Shall I kiss you on the cheek?”
He gave a small shake of his head.
Accepting his feeble answer, she put her lips to his nose. A peck. An acknowledgment of affection. “Like one gives a child.” Or a brother.
He seemed to vibrate beneath her hands.
Beneath her fingertips, he went still as death. Her time grew short and so she pulled away ever so slightly and said, “But I would want more from a man I cared for. Much more.”
Her education in the art of kissing was poor. She’d had weak precedents. A wet thing from a twelve-year-old boy who’d come to visit with his parents. A grasping thing from an Eton lad who petted her with clammy hands before he tried to stick his tongue down her throat. A ravenous thing from a sullen lord who should have known better than to seize her as if he were a pirate and she his booty. Only once had she been swept away by the artfulness of a man who knew his way around a bedroom and a woman. She’d enjoyed the kiss…or rather kisses, but later, refused the man his suit.
So it was her imagination and her eternal curiosity about Pierce as a lover that led her on. A frantic seizure of the minute, the night, the topic, led her to brush her lips on his and stifle the moan that rose in her throat.
She took his broad firm mouth with her own in a grand claim that had him drawing her near and allowing her the range of his lips. He was hers, faintly groaning in objection or passion, she did not know. But he pulled her flush to his torso and she surged with triumph at the rigid expression of his lack of control.
Surrendering to what she wanted, she slid her hands up his shoulders and cupped his nape. Her fingers wound through his satin hair. He hauled her closer, his cock harder, slipping against the hollow between her thighs as he kissed her.
His lips were warm, reverent. At once, he pulled back and stared at her, shock his first emotion. But need was his next as he cupped her cheek, sighed her name and took her mouth once more. This time, he savored her mouth in lazy caresses. She clutched him closer and he darted the tip of his tongue between her lips. But with one touch, he gasped and was gone.
She hung in his arms, triumph rushing through her veins.
He stared down into her eyes.
She swallowed.
He searched her expression. Of course, he did.
He searched for himself. For his motivation. For definition of his own desire.
She let him do as he wished, but regarded him with languor, for she had no such query.
She knew what she wanted.
Him. Always him. Ever him.
And she had him in this moment. As she had always wanted the fullness of his passion. The madness of his attentions.
“Forgive me.” He stepped back even as he braced her arms to ensure she stood upright.
Well. Just barely. But gentleman that he was, and lady that she had been born to be, she would stand and she would forgive.
He cleared his throat. “That was…”
Exquisite.
“I apologize, Camille. That should not have happened.”
I wanted it to. “I’m the one who started it.” And I won’t apologize.
He gave her a watery smile. “We will forget this.”
Not if I can make you remember.
“Good night.”
With a few quick steps, he strode away.
https://books2read.com/u/bMRvzG
But in her curiosity, she knew power. Because he blinked and yet he did not pull away, she had the control. Instead, he stood immobile as she stepped against him. She lifted on her toes, for he was so tall. And she slanted her head to one side, her gaze fastened on his, her mouth a heartbeat away from his. “How would you?”
“Camille.” Her name was not a sound.
She heard it as a warning, but took it as an appeal. One she’d waited for nearly half her life. One she would take advantage of now. For if anything, she was a woman of action. And in regard to him, she’d always been a woman of desire.
She sought purchase with her fingers going round his upper arms. “Shall I kiss you on the cheek?”
He gave a small shake of his head.
Accepting his feeble answer, she put her lips to his nose. A peck. An acknowledgment of affection. “Like one gives a child.” Or a brother.
He seemed to vibrate beneath her hands.
Beneath her fingertips, he went still as death. Her time grew short and so she pulled away ever so slightly and said, “But I would want more from a man I cared for. Much more.”
Her education in the art of kissing was poor. She’d had weak precedents. A wet thing from a twelve-year-old boy who’d come to visit with his parents. A grasping thing from an Eton lad who petted her with clammy hands before he tried to stick his tongue down her throat. A ravenous thing from a sullen lord who should have known better than to seize her as if he were a pirate and she his booty. Only once had she been swept away by the artfulness of a man who knew his way around a bedroom and a woman. She’d enjoyed the kiss…or rather kisses, but later, refused the man his suit.
So it was her imagination and her eternal curiosity about Pierce as a lover that led her on. A frantic seizure of the minute, the night, the topic, led her to brush her lips on his and stifle the moan that rose in her throat.
She took his broad firm mouth with her own in a grand claim that had him drawing her near and allowing her the range of his lips. He was hers, faintly groaning in objection or passion, she did not know. But he pulled her flush to his torso and she surged with triumph at the rigid expression of his lack of control.
Surrendering to what she wanted, she slid her hands up his shoulders and cupped his nape. Her fingers wound through his satin hair. He hauled her closer, his cock harder, slipping against the hollow between her thighs as he kissed her.
His lips were warm, reverent. At once, he pulled back and stared at her, shock his first emotion. But need was his next as he cupped her cheek, sighed her name and took her mouth once more. This time, he savored her mouth in lazy caresses. She clutched him closer and he darted the tip of his tongue between her lips. But with one touch, he gasped and was gone.
She hung in his arms, triumph rushing through her veins.
He stared down into her eyes.
She swallowed.
He searched her expression. Of course, he did.
He searched for himself. For his motivation. For definition of his own desire.
She let him do as he wished, but regarded him with languor, for she had no such query.
She knew what she wanted.
Him. Always him. Ever him.
And she had him in this moment. As she had always wanted the fullness of his passion. The madness of his attentions.
“Forgive me.” He stepped back even as he braced her arms to ensure she stood upright.
Well. Just barely. But gentleman that he was, and lady that she had been born to be, she would stand and she would forgive.
He cleared his throat. “That was…”
Exquisite.
“I apologize, Camille. That should not have happened.”
I wanted it to. “I’m the one who started it.” And I won’t apologize.
He gave her a watery smile. “We will forget this.”
Not if I can make you remember.
“Good night.”
With a few quick steps, he strode away.
https://books2read.com/u/bMRvzG
