"This isn't like you," she countered.

"You have no idea." He came even closer, his eyes glittering with something she was terrified to define. He reached out and touched her arm, just one finger to her flesh, but it was enough to make her tremble. "When have you ever backed down from a dare?"

Her stomach was flipping and her heart was pounding, but still her shoulders fell into a stiff, straight line. "Never," she declared, staring him straight in the eye.

He smiled, and his gaze grew hot. "That's my girl," he murmured.

"I'm not -"

"You will be," he growled, and before she could utter another word, his mouth captured hers in a searing kiss.

Chapter 17.

H.

e was kissing her.

It was the very definition of madness.

He was kissing Billie Bridgerton, the last woman in the world he should ever dream of wanting, but by God, when she'd glared up at him, and her chin had trembled and jutted out, all he could see were her lips and all he could smell was her scent.

And all he could feel was the heat of her skin beneath his fingers, and he wanted more. More of that.

More of her.

His other hand came around her with stunning speed, and he wasn't thinking, he couldn't be thinking. He just pulled her up against him, hard, and then he was kissing her.

He wanted to devour her.

He wanted to own her.

He wanted to fold her into his arms and hold her tight and kiss her until she finally saw sense, until she stopped doing crazy things and stopped taking crazy risks, and started behaving the way a woman ought while still being her and - He couldn't think. His thoughts were jumbled, torn to bits by the sheer heat of the moment.

More... his mind was begging. More was the only thing that made any sense to him. More of this. More of Billie.

He captured her face in his hands, holding her still. But she wasn't still. Her lips were moving beneath his, kissing him back with the sort of fervor that was exactly Billie. She rode hard and she played hard and by God she kissed the same way, like he was her triumph and she was going to glory in it.

It was all so mad, so completely wrong and yet so deliciously perfect. It was every sensation in the world, wrapped into one woman, and he could not get enough. In that moment, in that room, he could never get enough.

His palm moved to her shoulder, then to her back, pulling her closer until his hips pressed hard against her belly. She was small, and she was strong, but she curved in all the best places.

George was no monk. He had kissed women before, women who knew how to kiss him back. But he had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Billie. He had never wanted anything as much as this kiss.

This kiss... and all that could come after.

"Billie," he groaned. "Billie."

She made a sound. It might have been his name. And somehow that was what it took.

Good God. Reason came slamming back into him. His brain woke and his sanity returned, and he stumbled back, the electricity that had sparked so hot between them now jolting him away.

What the hell had just happened?

He breathed. No, he tried to breathe. It was an entirely different thing.

She had asked him what he wanted.

And he'd answered. He wanted her. He hadn't even had to think about it.

Clearly, he hadn't thought about it, because if he had, he wouldn't have done it.

He raked a hand through his hair. Then another. Then he just gave up and squeezed both, pulling on his scalp until he let out a growl of pain.

"You kissed me," she said, and he had just enough presence of mind not to say that she'd kissed him back. Because he'd started it. He had started it, and they both knew that she never would have done so.

He shook his head, tiny unthinking movements that did nothing to clear his mind. "I'm sorry," he said stiffly. "That wasn't I mean -"

He swore. This was apparently the extent of his coherency.

"You kissed me," she said again, and this time she sounded suspicious. "Why did -"

"I don't know," he bit off. He swore again, raking his hand through his hair as he turned away from her. Bloody hell. Bloody, bloody - He swallowed. "That was a mistake," he said.

"What?"

It was just one word. Not nearly enough for him to decipher her tone. Which was probably for the best. He turned around, forcing himself to look at her while at the same time not allowing himself to see.

He didn't want to see her reaction. He didn't want to know what she thought of him. "That was a mistake," he said, because it was what he had to say. "Do you understand me?"

Her eyes narrowed. Her face grew hard. "Perfectly."

"For God's sake, Billie, don't take bloody offense -"

"Don't take offense? Don't take offense? You -" She stopped herself, shot a furtive glance at the open door, and lower her voice to a furious hiss. "I did not start this."

"I am well aware."

"What were you thinking?"

"Obviously, I wasn't," he practically spat.

Her eyes widened, flashing with pain, and then she turned, hugging her arms to her body.

And George finally knew the true meaning of remorse. He let out an unsteady breath, raking his hand through his hair. "I apologize," he said, for the second time in as many minutes. "I will marry you, of course."

"What?" She whirled around. "No."

George stiffened. It was like someone had taken an iron rod and shoved it right up his spine. "I beg your pardon?"

"Don't be daft, George. You don't want to marry me."

It was true, but he was not stupid enough to say so out loud.

"And you know I don't want to marry you."

"As you are making increasingly clear."

"You only kissed me because you're upset."

This was not true, but he kept his mouth shut on this point as well.

"So I accept your apology." Her chin rose. "And we will never speak of this again."

"Agreed."

They stood there for a moment, frozen in their painfully awkward tableau. He ought to be jumping for joy. Any other young lady would be screaming for the trees. Or for her father. And the vicar. And a special license woven into the shape of a noose.

But not Billie. No, Billie just looked at him with an almost preternatural haughtiness and said, "I hope you will accept my apology."

"Your -" What? His jaw dropped. What the devil did she have to apologize for? Or was she merely trying to get the upper hand? She'd always known how to unsettle him.

"It's not as if I can pretend that I didn't return the... ah..." She swallowed, and he took some pleasure in the fact that she blushed before she finished the statement. "The... ah..."

He took quite a bit of pleasure in the fact that she couldn't finish the statement at all.

"You liked it," he said with a slow smile. It was colossally unwise to goad her at such a moment, but he could not help himself.

She shifted her weight. "Everyone has to have a first kiss."

"Then I am honored," he said with a courtly bow.

Her lips parted in surprise, maybe even consternation. Good. He'd turned the tables.

"I was not expecting it to be you, of course," she said.

He stifled his irritation and instead murmured, "Perhaps you were hoping for someone else?"

She gave a jerky little shrug. "No one in particular."

He chose not to analyze the burst of pleasure that rushed through him at that statement.

"I suppose I always thought it would be one of your brothers," she continued. "Andrew, maybe -"

"Not Andrew," he bit off.

"No, probably not," she agreed, her head tilting to the side as she considered it. "But it used to seem plausible."

He stared at her with mounting irritation. While she was not wholly unaffected by the situation, she was certainly not as affected as he thought she should have been.

"It wouldn't have been the same," he heard himself say.

She blinked. "I beg your pardon."

"If you had kissed someone else." He stepped toward her, unable to ignore the way his blood buzzed with anticipation. "It would not have been the same."

"Well..." She looked flustered, delightfully so. "I would expect not," she finally said. "I mean... different people..."

"Very different," he agreed.

Her mouth opened, and several seconds passed before words emerged. "I'm not sure to whom you're comparing yourself."

"Anyone." He moved even closer. "Everyone."

"George?" Her eyes were huge, but she wasn't saying no.

"Do you want me to kiss you again?" he asked.

"Of course not." But she said it too quickly.

"Are you sure of that?"

She swallowed. "It would be a very bad idea."

"Very much so," he said softly.

"So we... shouldn't?"

He touched her cheek, and this time he whispered it. "Do you want me to kiss you again?"

She moved... a little. He couldn't tell whether she was shaking her head yes or no. He had a feeling she didn't know, either.

"Billie?" he murmured, coming close enough so that his breath whispered across her skin.

Her breath hitched, and she said, "I said I wouldn't marry you."

"You did."

"Well, I said you didn't have to marry me."

He nodded.

"That would still be true."

"If I kissed you again?"

She nodded.

"So this means nothing?"