“I don’t want to be demanding.”
“You can be as demanding as you like,” he replied. “Now that we’re home.”
Heat blossomed. She might even be sweating beneath her cloak. He climbed out, helped her down, and paid the cab driver. Then he led her into the house. “Come, my wife, to bed.”
***
Johns was waiting up, but Braydon dismissed him and led Kitty into his bedroom.
“Have you ever played a card game where the forfeits are clothes?” he asked.
“No. And I don’t want to now.”
“Nor do I, but I propose that we undress each other, layer by layer.”
Kitty would rather rip off clothing in whatever was the most efficient way, but she could match him move for move. “A glove, then, sir.” She drew a leather gloveoff his right hand. His beautiful right hand, which she wanted on her skin.
“A glove,” he said in turn. Her gown had long sleeves, so her silk gloves were short and one was easily removed. Soon he could say, “Hands bared. All the better to remove other items. A shoe, madam.”
She’d expected the cloak to go next, but she raised a foot. He untied the ribbons and took off her right shoe.
She almost demanded his shoe, but why follow the pattern he set? “Greatcoat, sir.” She unbuttoned it and took it off, tossing the heavy garment over a chair.
“Stocking,” he said in turn.
Ah. “Stocking” meant “garter,” up around her thigh. She’d gone naked to bed with Marcus without a blush, but this... This was different.
“Raise your right foot onto the chair,” he said.
She obeyed, putting a hand on the back of the chair. He pushed up her red skirt and white petticoat until her frilled drawers were revealed, with her embroidered garter beneath her knee. He slowly, very slowly, untied it.
“I could say the garter was your item, sir,” she said, hearing her own huskiness. “But I’ll permit.”
He eased her stocking down slowly, the brush of his fingers on calf and ankle delicious torment. Her body clenched. Her breath shortened. He lifted her foot to take off the stocking, and then raised her foot higher to kiss the arch.
Despite her drawers, Kitty was aware of being open to him, and how very much she wished he’d take advantage of that. She’d joined with Marcus only when naked, but she knew from scurrilous cartoons that men need only unloose their member and her split drawers would present no serious obstacle. That was often the way with men and whores, but she wouldn’t mind being taken like a whore. In fact...
When he let go of her foot, she used it to push him backward toward the bed. Eyes widening, he stepped back and sat. She put down her foot, shed her cloak, and then walked to him and unbuttoned his flap. She soon had his member free, firm and rising. She raised her skirts and straddled him, filling herself, hands on his shoulders, exhaling with slow satisfaction.
But he stood with her. “Legs around me,” he commanded, thrusting her back against the wall.
And he took her like that, standing, thrusting her up again and again with a power she’d never experienced before. Squeezing her legs around him, head thrown back in passion, Kitty had to choke back cries as he drove her into hot, dark oblivion.
Chapter 33
She came to tangled on the bed, still mostly dressed, but in complete disorder.
“Not what I planned,” he mumbled, kissing around her jaw and ear. To her mouth, for a kiss as devastating as the rest.
After the kiss, after recovering, she asked, “What did you plan?”
“I’ve forgotten.”
“You?” she teased.
He half opened his eyes to meet hers. “You are a wicked woman.”
“Do you mind?”
