I Kissed an Earl (Pennyroyal Green, #4)

by Julie Anne Long

To the bloods of the ton, Violet Redmond was El Dorado.

The scent of her hair swamped his senses like sensual laudanum, induced a brief delicious paralysis.

And then his hand rose slowly, tentatively. And lightly, slowly, he dragged that jasmine blossom along the line of her jaw.

“Show me, Violet,” he whispered, coaxing now like the devil himself, his tone so, so…sympathetic, so infuriatingly knowing. It lulled like a mesmerist. And his knee shifted just the slightest between her legs again, and her breath caught as hot shards of pleasure pierced. She swallowed. “Show me. Or tell me again to go to the devil, and I will go.”

“I have you.” His voice was a gasp in her ear. “I have you. Just let go.” “Don’t stop.” The most important command she had ever in her life uttered. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured.

could not have born it if he killed you. You. I could not have lived. I simply would have…stopped breathing. I would have killed him a dozen more times. Happily. For you.” And

how terrifying a thing it is to love. For it owes its sweetness in large part to the razor-edged fact that it could be lost in the blink of an eye, if, for instance, a loaded pistol isn’t in hand when one is needed.

“Do not let me just stand here having said those words,” he said stiffly. “It’s undignified.” “I love you, too,” she said softly, hurriedly. Feeling abashed. Eyes still closed. Egads. So this was what it was like to be in love. Awkward and foolish, indeed.