Seth’s gaze did not waver. “I don’t need to.”
“I would like you to,” she said softly.
“No,” he murmured. “It wouldn’t change a thing. Monkton wants the dukedom for Tewkesbury, and likely a tidy sum for himself. You think a letter will stand in the way of that? He’ll burn it before he lets it be read.
“No. I’ve already made my choice,” he affirmed. “And I’d make it again, even if it cost me everything.”
Charlotte exhaled, but he leaned in then, pressing a tickling kiss to the hollow just beneath her jaw. “I cannot be suitable recompense for an entire dukedom,” she whispered.
He met her eyes, his voice rougher now. “That’s where you are mistaken, Charlotte. You have always been a recompense foreverythingI was born to lose.”
He knelt before her, the tension between them humming like a drawn bowstring. And then—without haste—he lowered his mouth to the tip of her foot, his kiss reverent against the silk of her stocking.
Charlotte blinked, startled. A breathless laugh bubbled in her throat. “You are utterly incorrigible.”
“Only with you,” he murmured, brushing his lips along her ankle.
She felt the heat of it through the fabric, a sensation that bloomed slowly, curling behind her knees, settling deep in her belly. Her thighs shifted restlessly as his mouth climbed—inch by slow, deliberate inch—up her calf.
“What are you doing?” she asked, though her voice was already breathless, morewantthan protest.
He didn't answer. Just lifted her leg and began to roll down her stocking with a patience that was more provocative than haste ever could be. The silk rasped against her skin as it slid down, exposing her inch by inch, until he tossed it away with a lazy flick over his shoulder.
Then he reached for the hem of her nightgown.
Charlotte froze.
He rolled it up to her knees. Then higher. When he reached her thighs, she caught the fabric at the center, instinctively pushing down and hiding herself. Not fully denying him—no, that wasn’t what this was. She simply… didn’t know what to do with the storm building inside her. Her hands clenched the nightdress like it could anchor her.
Seth's eyes flicked up. He smiled, not smug, not triumphant, but devastatingly tender. As though her reticence was just another part of her he intended to adore.
“Such shapely legs,” he murmured, lifting one to his shoulder again. “I could spend the rest of my life kissing them and never be quenched.”
Charlotte felt her heart lurch and her toes curl as he pressed his lips along her inner thigh. It wasn’t just arousing, it was deferential, indulgent, as though he worshipped her.
She sank deeper into the chair. Every kiss was an offering. Every breath he took against her skin seemed to feed her fire. When he reached for her other stocking, she let him, helpless to do anything else.
When he finished, he pressed a kiss to the inside of her knee, and then sat back on his heels, studying her. His gaze swept slowly over her, and she felt every pass of it as if it were a touch.
“I want to see you,” he murmured.
She faltered for a heartbeat.
But then, wordlessly, she lifted her arms.
He took the hem of her nightgown in both hands and drew it upward—slowly, achingly slowly—dragging the fabric over her thighs, her hips, her stomach. The way his eyes followed every newly exposed inch of skin made her feel as though she were being unwrapped like a gift.
Her breasts rose and fell with each breath, and when the nightdress passed over them, Seth let out a sound, something soft and reverent, like a prayer. He tossed the garment aside, and she remained there, stretched out in the chair, utterly bare, heart galloping in her chest.
His eyes didn’t devour. They drank... Like he was dying of thirst and she was the only thing that could sate him.
Charlotte was trembling, but not from shame. There was no room for shame. Only anticipation.
“Tell me,” she whispered, voice like silk. “What you are going to do to me.”
Seth’s eyes darkened. “Something you’ll never forget.”
His lips clashed with hers in a kiss that was all molten heat and barely reined hunger. Then, his mouth blazed a path downward, dragging along the column of her throat, pausing to taste thehollow just above her collarbone before drifting lower. She felt each kiss like a brand on her skin.
