"Once you are married," Cleav answered, "it no longer matters."
As if his words had given her permission, Esme ran her hands along the breadth of his shoulders and down the wall of his chest.
"Mmmm ..." His murmur of approval gave Esme courage as she pressed herself against him.
The eager caress fired Cleav's blood, and he tightened his arms around her. Hungrily his lips moved from her mouth to her cheek to her neck. She arched her back to give him access. And he took it.
"Esme, sweet Esme," he whispered against her skin. Running a hand up from her waist, he gently touched the side of her breast.
"Oh!"
With Esme's startled reaction, Cleav covered her mouth with his own. As she sighed against him, he allowed his hand to skim across her bosom again, this time casually contacting the raised nipple with his thumb.
The flutter he felt in her throat might have been fear, but she ardently pressed her flesh against his hand.
"Yes, please touch me there," she whispered. "It makes me feel so ... so ... all over."
Her response brought a primitive growl from deep within Cleav's throat. Tightening his hold marginally, he made a tentative foray into her hot, sweet mouth with his tongue.
She jerked from him slightly, in surprise, then her own tongue snaked to meet his.
"This feels so naughty," she told him, her breast heaving with excitement.
"It is naughty," Cleav agreed. "So wonderfully naughty."
They continued their naughty exploration for several more moments until both were breathing hard. Cleav pulled away from her slightly and bent his head to rest it against the top of hers.
"We shouldn't be in here like this," Cleav told her, willing himself to take stock of his surroundings. "Let me close the store, and we'll go to the house."
Esme wanted to agree but shook her head. "Your mother is there."
Cleav gave an exasperated sigh and pulled her back into his arms.
"Oh, Esme, you tempt me so," he whispered. "But this is neither the time nor the place. I'm terribly sorry for my timing," he said. "A gentleman doesn't take liberties with a lady in a public place."
She shook her head vigorously. "Oh, Cleav, you mustn't apologize to me," she said. "And you certainly mustn't reprove yourself. It's my fault. I just couldn't wait to touch you."
His kiss was tender as he grazed her lips.
"You are so sweet," he told her as he put her at arm's length to study the line and feature of her face. "And innocent."
"Not entirely," Esme said slowly. "You know those pretty garters that you gave me?"
He nodded. How could he forget them?
"I'm wearing them under my dress," she told him.
Cleav immediately thought of how they would look on her slim thighs. Then he wondered how high up she'd worn them, but he kept that thought to himself.
"That's what they are for, Esme," he said. "There is certainly no impropriety in that."
"I came down to the store wearing them under my dress," she continued, looking up into his eyes with an expression that was far from innocent. "And that's all I'm wearing under my dress."
Cleav's eyes widened in shock. "Miss Esme . . ." he began. "Miss Esme, I . . ."
"My name isn't Miss Esme," she corrected in a low, silky voice. "I'm Mrs. Cleavis Rhy."
His nostrils flared as he struggled to breathe normally. His gaze dropped to the worn serge skirt that now was the only cloth that hid her long, luscious legs from his sight. His hands trembled with desire. No words could be said. His arms went around her waist and his palms clutched the soft fullness of her buttocks.
