“As I told you before, you do not control me.” She lifted her chin. “Nor will any man. Ienjoybeing a spinster.”
“No one enjoys being a spinster.”
“The fallen ones do,” she countered at once. “They enjoy their freedoms and a whole lot more.”
In fact, every time she saw him, she could not help but wish she had no reputation to protect. Given the freedom to do so, she would kiss him every chance she could. And if she had no reason to bother with good behavior at all… Diana would not mind being very, very bad.
Colehaven curved his hand over her mouth. “Don’t let anyone hear you talk like that.”
Like who? They were alone in the garden. Stolen moments were not the same as a life of freedom, but even a stolen moment should not be squandered. She pressed the tip of her tongue to his palm.
He dropped his hand at once, his eyes full of warning. “Diana—”
“If I’m not saving my virtue,” she said sweetly, “then it’s my currency to spend however I wish. Perhaps I’ll wager it.”
He gripped her arms. “If you dare—”
“Are you a betting man?” she asked, batting wide eyes. Just because she couldn’t have him forever didn’t mean they should walk away. Not yet. “I wager you can’t shut that beautiful mouth for five minutes and prove yourself immune to a fallen spinster.”
“I’ll take that bet,” he snapped. “Not that I need it. You and I aren’t—”
“No talking.” She placed a finger to his lips and smiled. “And no touching. You, that is. I can do as I please for five minutes. Agreed?”
His eyes flashed like daggers, but his shoulders gave a laconic shrug, as if to dare her to do her worst.
Diana fully intended to. He liked to pretend he wasn’t ruled by his emotions, his desires. She had five minutes to prove otherwise. She doubted she’d need all five, but intended to enjoy every one. Her smile widened.
She let her finger fall from his lips. If the wind was still cold, she didn’t feel it at all.
Her pulse raced in anticipation. She drew herself up on her toes until her mouth brushed the spot on his lip that her finger had touched.
“I’m close enough to kiss,” she murmured.
Each syllable brought her mouth closer or further from his, as if each word was a kiss, each sentence a promise of lovemaking.
Just as his lips parted, she lowered her feet, breaking the delicious contact. Perhaps she’d kiss him, and perhaps she wouldn’t. This was her wager, not his.
She placed her fingertips to the center of his chest, just below his cravat.
He was wearing too many layers for her to feel the beating of his heart, but his heat was almost scalding.
Letting her fingertips trail against him, she began a slow, hip-swinging circle about him, as if lazily perusing a fine steed at Tattersall’s.
Not that she’d been to Tattersall’s. Tattersall’s was for men, just like everything else. Everything except this moment, this wager, these five delectable minutes wheresheheld the power.
The muscles of his upper arm twitched beneath her touch, as if forcing himself to stay perfectly still had wound Colehaven tight.
As she circled behind him, Diana allowed herself the luxury of slowing even further, dragging her fingertips inch by inch across the wide expanse of his shoulders.
“I’m not cold now,” she whispered against the back of his neck, where his dark hair curled against the snowy white of his cravat. “I’m imagining how it would feel to touch your bare flesh.”
He sucked in a tiny, audible breath.
Diana trailed a finger down his spine. She’d phrased her teasing statement so that it was unclear if she’d never touched a man, or if she lamented being unable to add him to her list. Let him stew on that for the rest of his life, while he was wed to Miss Perfect.
Just as her finger dipped below his waist, she changed course and continued her slow circle around his other side, until her finger caught against the button of his fall.
His muscles tightened visibly. From this angle, he could see her, and his eyes dared her to continue her dangerous game.
