First Kiss Friday – Conquering Passion by Anna Markland

Today’s First Kiss Friday featured guest is Anna Markland, author of historical romance Conquering Passion.  Welcome Anna!  And Happy Wedding Anniversary!  Here’s the first kiss between Ram and Mabelle.

He strode towards her. She still looked nervous but obviously determined not to let it show. She raised her hand and tucked the errant strand behind her ear again, never averting her eyes from his. Her courage excited him. He wanted to touch her, to gather her up in his arms but that might alarm her. He put his hands on her shoulders and felt her shudder. Her lashes fluttered and she closed her eyes but didn’t pull away as he’d feared.

“Mabelle, you infuriate me, yet I find myself longing for your company, for the touch of your hand in mine. I want to know how your lips will feel as they open to me.” Her face reddened and the heat rolled through his own body. He could feel her trembling.

“Please don’t make fun of me, milord.”

“My name is Ram,” he breathed, pulling her body to his. Her spine went rigid. Her sensuous mouth enticed him. Would her lips be warm or cold? How would she taste?

“You rouse me, Mabelle. You are my betrothed, yet we’ve never kissed.”

He brushed his lips over hers. The moist warmth made his skin tingle. She moved her mouth away from his lips, but he held her against him, his arms now around her shoulders.

“Please don’t tease me—Ram.”

She seemed more afraid now than when she thought he was angry. He held her away from his body and rasped, “Are you wishing it was Antoine and not me kissing you?”

“Non,” she murmured, shaking her head, tears welling. “Why do you torment me with this?”

He kissed her again, more deeply, his tongue coaxing her to open to him. He sucked her lower lip, bit it gently, then darted his tongue once more over her lips, whispering, “Open your sweet mouth for me.”

The fight seemed to go out of her. She opened her mouth and twirled her tongue around his. A deep groan escaped her that reverberated through his body. His hand went to the back of her head and he raked his fingers along her scalp. She groaned again and then sucked his tongue into her mouth.

“Mabelle!” he rasped when he could breathe again, “You certainly know how to kiss a man.” As soon as the words were spoken he regretted them.

She stiffened. “Of course I do. Have you forgotten? I’m a whore.”

His grip on her shoulders tightened. “Don’t utter that word. You’re not a whore. I didn’t mean—aagh!—by the saints, Mabelle, why is it that when I’m with you—?”

He shook his head, and moved away from her. He paced, running his hand through his hair, unsuccessfully willing his arousal to abate. “I’m a decorated cavalry commander, a counselor to the Duke. One day I’ll be the Comte de Montbryce. I’ve faced many dangers, and yet I can’t say or do the right thing when I’m with you.”

She swayed and leaned against Sibell, her eyes closed. “It’s the same for me. I’ve survived all manner of trials and tribulations but you—make me—quiver. I’ve—never—I’ve never kissed a man before.”

His mind struggled to reconcile the idea he was the first to kiss her with what he suspected to be true—that she was no longer a maid. But, the taste of her had excited him. She looked vulnerable, leaning dejectedly against her horse. What had happened to the spirited woman he’d seen ride out from the castle? He liked the idea of the feisty Mabelle better. He wanted to reignite that flame.

He strode towards her, captured her mouth again and kissed her deeply, his hand at her throat, his thumb caressing her neck. He swirled his tongue around the inside of her mouth, feeling the warmth, the textures. Then she drew his tongue into her mouth, welcoming him. He felt her breasts rise and fall as her breathing became more rapid. His hand moved down slowly until he cupped her breast, lifting it, feeling the weight of it.

“I’ve wanted to hold your lovely breasts from the moment I first saw you,” he whispered. “You fill my hand.”