Luck Is No Lady(52)

She glanced to his face, wondering what he was about. But he was focused on his task.

She watched with growing anticipation as his thumb lightly circled her palm in a spiral from the outer edge to the sensitive center. It was all she could do to prevent her fingers from twitching at the strange and subtle jolts of sensation created by the simple caress.

Her breathing slowed even as her pulse sped furiously. She felt as though he were working some magic over her, lulling her into a quiet submission.

She had nearly forgotten what the initial purpose of his gentle exploration was when he leaned forward and lifted her hand to accept the touch of his lips in the very center of her palm. The pressure of his mouth was warm and sure as he held her hand to his mouth for a long moment. Her fingers rested softly against the side of his face. She felt the rough texture of hair growth along his hard, angled jaw, and the rush of his breath.

The kiss could not have lasted more than a few seconds, but in that time, Emma felt a wealth of changes in her body and in her overall awareness. The heat of the room was suddenly stifling and her clothes felt unbelievably restrictive. Her breath went shallow and her stomach fluttered with a distinct kind of nervousness. She did not even realize she had closed her eyes until he lowered her hand to the table and released her.

She blinked a few times as the world came back into focus. A blush burned her cheeks as she saw him watching her. His blue gaze remained intent on her face. She wondered if he saw the flutter of her pulse in her throat or the dreamlike haze that had obscured her gaze for a moment.

With more poise than she thought herself capable of, Emma took up the deck of cards to shuffle for the next round, trying for all the world to appear as though nothing at all out of the ordinary had happened, though every cell in her body trembled.

She received a horrible hand. She forced her focus back to the game as she struggled to make the most of what she had been dealt. In the end, her efforts were ineffective as he won the next round as well.

She hesitated this time when he held his hand out for his winnings. Meeting his gaze, she searched for evidence of his true intention. His steady blue eyes looked back at her, revealing nothing but a gleam of triumph. Was he simply pleased by his win, or was there more to it? Was he trying to seduce her in earnest?

Goodness, I hope so.

Emma stiffened. Where on earth had that thought come from? Nothing could come of a dalliance with this man, nothing lasting anyway. And there was so much risk inherent in a careless liaison.

Too much risk.

She knew this. Yet, when he arched one eyebrow in a silent demand, she surrendered her hand with bated breath. She anticipated the same gentle assault, so when he brought her hand immediately to his mouth, she was surprised. And then she was shocked.

Before she could think to pull away, he had placed her index finger directly into his mouth, closing his lips around the first knuckle.

A firestorm erupted in her center as the velvety surface of his tongue swirled around her fingertip. She did not close her eyes this time, and his gaze held hers captive. He removed her index finger from his mouth in a slow glide. Then he replaced it with the next finger, drawing it a little farther into the heat of his mouth.

It was so shocking and strange in a way that commanded all of her attention.

She was fascinated.

The texture of his tongue, the heat of his mouth, the gentle scrape of her knuckle against his teeth… It was all so visceral. So primitive. It opened up a flood of sensations through Emma’s body.

When he moved to her ring finger, he nipped at the pad playfully, sending a jolt through her languid center. She pressed her thighs together on instinct.

When he came to her pinkie finger, he did not take it into his mouth as she expected. Rather, he took her hand in his and drew it toward him as if he would place a proper kiss upon her knuckles. Instead, he dipped the tip of his tongue into the sensitive hollow between her pinkie finger and ring finger. The startling sensation brought a gasp to her lips.

She withdrew her hand, curling it into a fist in her lap, and gave him an accusing look. “Our wager was for a kiss. Not…that.”

He chuckled. The look in his eyes was entirely unrepentant and far too knowing. “There is more to kissing than a simple press of the lips. A true kiss explores with lips, tongue, and teeth. It incorporates aspects of the caress and the embrace.”

His voice rolled sensually around the words, leaving Emma no choice but to visualize the details of his explanation in another context. What must it be like to experience such a kiss on the mouth? Their one kiss behind the curtain had been brief—just a meeting of the lips—but still it had been devastating to her senses. If she won, would he kiss her in the manner he described?