“No,” he burst out. “That is the point I am trying rather bumblingly to make. Idolike you. Everything about you. More than I’ve ever liked anyone. There is only one thing I want more than to be naked in those bedsheets with you, and that is make love as ourselves. Not as strangers with secrets. As Julian and Unity.”
She stared at him, speechless, all the fight gone out of her.
“To be clear,” she said slowly. “You brought me to this bedchamber out of the express desire to make love to me, regardless of my personal history?”
“To be clear,” he answered. “You followed me into this bedchamber out of the express desire for that exact carnal circumstance to transpire?”
“There,” she said. “We do understand each other. But in the future, ask me your questions directly. Call off your investigator.”
“I already did.” He cupped her cheek. “Let us waste no more time on the past or the future and enjoy each other in this moment.”
Unity expected him to kiss her, but he waited, letting the choice be hers.
This was The Moment, she realized suddenly. The one and only moment. Of course he had called off his bloodhound. Therewasno future. Once the Duke of Lambley sampled a woman, he never cared to do so again.
After tonight, he would be done with her.
She had never expected anything more. If anything, she was surprised to have kept his interest for as long as she had. The season was coming to a close anyway. His masquerades would end, and they would part ways exactly as they both had planned.
But first, they would share this moment together.
Rather than kiss him, she placed her palms just below his shoulders and pushed him backwards onto the bed.
“What are you doing?” he asked as he elbowed his way up toward the pillows.
“Ravishing you.” She hiked her skirts above the knees so she could climb up him and straddle his hips.
“Ravishing...me?” He reached for her.
She laced her fingers with his and forced both hands down beside his head. Now she was leaning over him, her bosom brushing against his cravat.
“I suppose you had some notion of ‘possessing’ me in this bed?”
He licked his lips. “The thought might have crossed my mind.”
“I don’t want to be your possession.” She brushed her mouth against his. “The rest of the world is hard enough. I want equality between you and me, or nothing. Especially in the bedroom.”
“Terms accepted.” He lifted his head to try and kiss her fully, and this time she let him.
Or rather—she kissed him back. Kissed himequally. Passion for passion, kiss for kiss.
Finally, she had him where she wanted him. And oh, how she wanted him. She’d known from her first glimpse of him through his spotless mullioned windows that he would be her ruin. She didn’t care. All that mattered was this kiss, this bed, this chance to do what they’d been dancing around from the moment they met.
She untangled her fingers from his and leaned upright to try and unknot his neckcloth. He lifted his hands to do it for her. She pushed his wrists back down onto the pillows and returned her fingers to his cravat.
His arms twitched as though it were physically killing him to keep his hands still rather than try to take control. She kissed him even deeper.
She untied the neckcloth slowly. Learning its folds. Learninghim.
If they were only to have one night together—perhaps less, perhaps he could only spare an hour—she intended to savor every moment that she could.
When the neckcloth was free, she broke the kiss to toss the square of linen away, then leaned back so that she was fully seated astride him. She unbuttoned his elegant dress coat, tilting her hips to free each side of the coat and push it onto the blanket at his sides.
He lifted his shoulders as though to wriggle out of the garment himself, and she gently pushed him back onto the mattress.
“Am I allowed to do nothing?” he growled.
She smiled at him. “You’re going to be allowed to do everything. But you have to wait for it.”
