“It is.” Aaron took a step toward her, not because he wished to cage her in, but because he needed to be close enough to read every flicker of her expression. “Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”
She hesitated, then offered a polite, practiced answer. “It was a pleasant evening.”
He could hear the lie beneath the civility. “Pleasant,” he repeated softly. “But not memorable.”
Her gaze dropped for a moment. “Not in the way you seem to mean.” Then, more quietly, “I thought of you.”
Aaron stilled. “Of me?”
She nodded once. “All evening.”
Something warm and fierce unfurled low in his stomach.
“I’m glad,” he said, voice rougher than he intended. “Because I did the same.”
“Aaron …” she breathed.
He drank in every unguarded detail: the soft fall of her hair, the way her fingers curled slightly in anticipation, the pulse fluttering lightly at her throat.
“I know I have set boundaries. I’m not going to change those tonight. I want to offer you pleasure. Something to make up for tonight’s polite conversation and tedious compliments. But only if you want it.”
Her eyes lifted to his, bright and unflinching. “I … I do.”
He reached out, slowly, giving her every chance to pull back. She didn’t. His fingers brushed her cheek, and she leaned into the touch with a quiet, involuntary sigh.
“You came to me like this,” he whispered, letting his thumb trace the edge of her jaw. “Hair loose. Barely covered. You have no idea what that does to me.”
“I know exactly what it does.” Her voice was barely more than a breath. “I wanted to.”
His restraint frayed. He stepped closer, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her body through the thin linen.
“Louise,” he said gently, “tell me what you want.”
She swallowed, then lifted her chin just slightly. “I want you,” she said. “I’ve wanted you all night. No one else even crossed my mind.”
His head bowed for a moment in something like reverence.
“Good,” he murmured. “Then let me satisfy that need.”
When he backed her against the door, it wasn’t with force but with a slow, intentional closeness, an invitation she met halfway. Her breath mingled with his, her hands knotting in the front of his coat, pulling him nearer with a boldness that made his pulse thrum.
He kissed the corner of her mouth, coaxing, a promise of pleasure rather than a claim of her body.
“I can’t stop thinking about your lips,” he said softly. “About the way you come apart. So delicious …”
Her answer was a shiver, a soft exhale, and her hands sliding to the collar of his shirt.
He lifted his fingers to the tie of her dressing gown. “May I?”
Louise nodded once, eyes wide, lips parted. “Please.”
With slow, steady hands, he untied the sash and let the fabric fall open. It slipped from her shoulders and puddled around her feet.
Heat surged through him.
He forced a slow breath.
Louise stood there, cheeks flushed, chest rising in quick, delicate breaths, as if she were waiting for him to decide whether the world would keep turning.
