“Yes it is,” he agreed, holding her fast.
“You kept all your clothes on,” she pointed out, her voice trembling a little, like it had lost its footing. “It isn’t the same.”
“Do you want me to take my clothes off?” he asked her, raising his brows. “I will walk around naked for the rest of the night if you wish.”
“No,” she said, clearly furious at the way her lips wanted to twitch into something like amusement. “Maybe.”
“Done,” he said, pushing himself to his feet and moving to unbutton his shirt.
“Ambrose, I was joking,” she said, the amusement escaping now, tugging at the corners of her lips. “Stop it.”
“No,” he said, shrugging the shirt off, baring his torso to her.
She paused, her eyes falling to the newly exposed skin, her brows rising the tiniest bit. “All right,” she said, softer now. “Just the shirt.”
He paused, holding it out in between them, a little surprised to find her so interested. “Are you sure? I’m entirely willing to go full bottom-out for you.”
“I’m certain you are,” she answered, finally cracking enough to let a titter escape, her fingers coming up to her lips. “Perhaps I’m not yet prepared for that.”
He gave her half a smile, tossing the shirt away and moving to drop himself next to her at the foot of the bed. “Yet, is it?” he asked her, reaching out to smooth a strand of hair between his fingers.
“Yet,” she agreed, letting him, her eyes still scanning the parts of him she had never seen before, grazing over the dip of his collarbone, trailing over the swell of his ribs.
“I shall feast on thatyet,” he told her, giving her a nudge. “You spoil me.”
“Oh,” she said, her tone immediately dropping to a scold, her brows snapping back together. “I know you must be terriblyimpatient. I suppose I am being selfish, aren’t I? It isn’t my intent.”
“Vix,” he said, following that strand of her hair down toward her shoulder, twisting it over his knuckles, “shut up.”
She gasped, her pretty lips falling open in outrage. “How dare you?” she asked, shaking her head.
And then she kissed him.
She slid her hands over his cheeks this time, touching without hesitation. She held the warmth of his skin against her palms, and she leaned forward and tentatively brushed her lips against his, like she wasn’t sure this was allowed or what might happen if she went through with it.
It wasn’t like the kiss in the church, he realized. That had been a performance. A point being made.
This was something else.
He touched the back of her neck with the tips of his fingers. He brushed the line of her jaw with his thumb. He leaned closer, but only at her request, at the pull of her hands in his hair.
It felt like she was testing the science of kissing, like she was attempting to prove that such a thing was not actually real, and failing horribly in the process. She kept huffing and adjusting her posture, tilting her head this way or that, trying different amounts of pressure, experimenting with the tip of her tongue, with the nip of her teeth.
It was divinely unbearable.
She made a frustrated little grunt, pulling back with a frown. Her hands trailed down his throat and came to rest on his barechest, on the thundering of his heart and the rise and fall of his breathing.
“I will try that again,” she said, like she had missed an archery target. “Later.”
“All right,” he replied, his vision gone a bit bleary. “At your leisure.”
She scooted back, still frowning, her fingers trailing down and away from his bare skin. She was examining him like a puzzle that was refusing to be solved. One she had tried and failed to force her way through.
“I should like some grapes,” she said suddenly, her voice gone brisk. “Will you have some?”
He blinked at her, glancing over at the tray of water and food like he couldn’t remember where he was or that fruit could be eaten. “If you like,” he managed, pushing himself over to grab the tray and set it between them on the mattress. “I prefer the purple ones.”
She plucked one of the green grapes from the bunch and bit it in half, its duet of seeds glistening in the center as she regarded him. “Purple grapes,” she repeated. “I shall tell Mrs. Jenkins.”
