He smiled. “Have you ever been kissed before,bijou?”
The flush returned to her cheeks. “Of course! Dozens of times.”
“What were their names?” Decker asked.
Her frown returned. “I beg your pardon?”
“The names of the men who kissed you dozens of times,” he elaborated. “Tell me them.”
So I can plant them facers.
He struck the possessive notion from his mind. He had never been a jealous man. And indeed, he preferred his women to be experienced. To know how to give and receive pleasure without inhibition. Coaching a lover, instructing her…it held little appeal.
Or, at least, it had. Until Lady Jo Danvers and her damned list.
Her mouth tightened. “I will do nothing of the sort.”
“Because there are not any,” he guessed, hoping he was right for reasons he would ponder later.
Or, better yet, never.
“How should you know?” she demanded.
His lips twitched. “Prove me wrong.”
She sighed. “Very well, you beast. I have not yet kissed a gentleman.”
Excellent,said the demon that dwelled within his soul.
“As I thought,” he said aloud.
But before he could pursue the matter any further, the carriage came to a halt. They had arrived at their destination. Lady Jo’s countenance suddenly took on the look of a startled bird. He half-expected her to sprout wings and take flight.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“We are at my home,” he revealed. “We are crossing off item number five on your list this evening:go to a gentleman’s private apartments. You may thank me later, my dear.”
Jo was insideMr. Decker’s townhome at half past eight in the evening. Alone.
Specifically, she was standing within his library, with its walls of books and array of pictures and sculptures. The art seemed innocent enough, at first glance. It was only when Jo studied it in greater details that she realized the pictures and sculptures all shared a commonality. They were erotic in nature.
The picture before her, for instance, appeared to be an innocent enough image of a gentleman and lady standing before a bookshelf in a library or book store. Upon closer inspection, she realized the gentleman had his hand up the lady’s skirts, and that her intimate flesh was exposed for his touch.
She could not stifle her startled gasp.
“Do you like what you see?”
The dark, low voice at her back had her spinning around to find him offering her a glass of wine.
She swallowed, eying him and the goblet, his long, elegant fingers. His handsome face. “It is vulgar.”
He smiled. “So is your list, my dear.”
True.
She accepted the glass from him. “Yes, but you have this on display in your library.”
“And?” He raised his glass to her in mock salute. “I am accustomed to born-in-the-purple aristocrats imagining me a philistine. Besides, it ismylibrary.”
