A head poked into the trap door opening. Soppitt, she thought his name was. “All right down there?”
Down there.
A blush began at the roots of Delilah’s hair and crawled across her skin to her toes.
If only the man knew what he was asking.
“Just got the wind knocked out of me,” said Ravensworth, pushing himself up and into a sitting position.
How coolly the lie rolled off his lips.
As if what had just happened hadn’t just happened.
And it had most definitely happened.
Her quim that still tingled and throbbed with satisfaction could attest to the fact.
But how?
From start to finish, it couldn’t have taken more than one—two?—minutes. She’d had no idea such a thing could be achieved in less than a minute—or that life could continue on after as if it hadn’t.
All her life, she’d been called wild.
But this was the very first time in those four and twenty years that she’d truly acted on that impulse.
Wild.
Soppitt’s hand reached down. “Lilah?”
She was meant to take it.
Which was just as well.
Distance from Ravensworth must be achieved…tout suite.
It occurred to her that in all the years she’d been acquainted with the man, she’d neither touched nor been touched by him.
And now she had been.
Intimately…
Thoroughly.
Delilah placed her hand in Soppitt’s and allowed herself to be hauled up onto the stage. As she stood in the summer sunshine, slightly disoriented, her legs a bit wobbly, it was almost if dark, pleasurable happenings hadn’t occurred below.
Almost.
Her body was having a decidedly difficult time pretending otherwise.
Her body… It had never felt like this before. Like she could feel the individual blood cells rushing through her veins.
Ravensworth appeared through the trap door opening, concentrated on the task of dusting off cobwebs and dirt, his dark blond hair tousled and mussed. He planted his hands on the stage and pushed himself up. Her gaze fell to those hands…his fingers, long and masculine.
Those fingers contained knowledge.
Like how to make her body feel like it did at this very moment—singing with light.
He twisted around so he came to a seat, his legs hanging through the trap door opening. He cleared his throat. Delilah’s gaze startled up. She’d been staring at his hands.
