Della doubted that was even possible, but did as he commanded. Every fiber in her being pulled toward him, and she felt both vulnerable and afraid—emotions that were as unfamiliar as their cause. However, she had to admit she was also oddly intrigued by the request. She licked her lips, pursing them as she leaned forward once more.
“Not yet,” he said. “Put your hands on my neck.”
Della again did as he commanded. Her shaking hands encircled his broad shoulders. Firm muscles flexed beneath her, solid and warm. Tiny shivers of pleasure radiated from her fingertips, moving along her arms, making her aware of how close his body was to hers. Soft hair brushed over the backs of her hands. The increasingly familiar scent of him, the sweet smell of earth and mint, wove through her senses, enrapturing her, keeping her completely under his spell. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her so close that only a hairsbreadth of space separated them.
“Now, I will show you the first kind of kiss.” His words were soft as he moved his lips to brush up against hers.
Her knees weakened as his closed mouth rubbed along hers. She held him tighter for support, breathing deeply through her nose. His lips were warm and dry, and she could feel the texture of them massaging her sensitive mouth in a soft but insistent press. Della bit back a moan of surprise.
Brant watched her carefully, not taking his eyes off her, even as her own vision grew cloudy. He pulled away after a moment and she felt as if she couldn’t catch her breath. Her heart beat hard and fast. Heat gathered in her stomach, almost as if radiating from outside herself from him.
His accent grew thicker, as he instructed, “Now for the second, open your mouth to me.”
Confused, she could not deny his persuasive tone. Licking her lips again, she parted them slightly. Brant moved his head forward and gently took her bottom lip in between his own. He bit down lightly with his teeth and she clutched at his neck. Her breasts pressed fully to his chest for support, her nipples rubbing against the hardness of his muscular form. His heat overtook her completely.
Della moved to do the same to his bottom lip, eliciting a moan from him. The sound was tortured and she started to pull back, but Brant held her fast, urging her with his mouth to try it again. She did and once more he moaned in tortured delight. All the time, she kept her eyes steadily on him, although her vision grew hazy and her eyes threatened to roll back in her head with the unexpected pleasure of his touch.
“And now,” Brant continued his instruction. His words came out on ragged pants of air. The span of his widespread fingers explored her back in slow, agonizing circles. “Now for the final lesson on the mouth. Keep your lips parted.”
Della obeyed. She wouldn’t have been able to close her lips due to the rush of her breath as his mouth came once more to her. Gently, he crushed her mouth with his tender passion, drawing his tongue over the edge of her lips, testing her resolve. Then, finding she didn’t resist, he moved his hand to her hair and forced her more fully against him. With each pass, he pushed harder, exploring deeper with his tongue. The beginning tenderness soon turned to fervent desire as he moaned, trapping her tightly to his length.
Della lost all feeling in her legs and leaned against him for support. Her eyes fluttered closed. She was unable to keep the lids open against the wave of pleasure that flooded her weakened limbs. Brant was an excellent teacher and soon she matched his rhythm with her own. A timid sound escaped her and she dropped her hands to his shoulders to help support her weight.
“The torture,” he whispered, coming up for a deep breath, only to crush his lips to hers once more.
His heart thumped against her, matching the hurried beat inside her chest. She tried not to, but soft, little moans sounded in the back of her throat. His fingers managed to find flesh, their texture rough against her softer skin as they caressed her face and neck, delved into her hair, traced her ears. Then, moving to her bodice, he struggled with the ties that held her dress together. His kiss became harder, demanding, and his moans became louder. Teeth bit into her lips, stinging the tender flesh in an increasingly savage passion.
It was too much. Too hard. Too fast. Too violent. Unbidden, images of her mother’s death came to mind, flooding her with their horror.
“Nay,” Della gasped, prying away in fright. Her wide eyes watched him in panic. His fierce ardor scared her.
“What?” Brant moved blindly to pull her back into his arms.
“Nay, take it off,” Della demanded, nervously holding up her hand to form a shield between them. Her lips burned with his taste and inside her stomach the confusing sensations swirled, becoming almost painful at her withdrawal.