She’d shared a more perilous edge than she’d known. “You would have used them?”
He looked at her. “I don’t know. Do you approve of this peace?”
“It’s not my place—”
“To hell with that. Do you approve? Did I do the right thing?”
“Yes, of course!”
He turned back to the fire. “How pleasant to be so sure of everything.”
Genova bit her lip. “I’ll leave you now,” she said, and headed for the door.
He caught her hand as she passed. “Why? The night’s still young.”
“And you’re in a mood best served by solitude.”
“Foul, in other words.”
“Yes.”
He let go of her hand but stepped closer. “I might be improved by a taste of a sweet bread from Genova.”
He lowered his head and nibbled gently at her lower lip.
Chapter Forty
Perhaps wine and spirits still raced in Genova’s blood. Perhaps the solution of so many problems made her delirious. At the first touch of his mouth, reason evaporated and molten need exploded.
She pushed off his jacket as they kissed, unbuttoned his long waistcoat. A waistcoat button resisted and she wrenched it off so she could slide her arms around his strong torso, feel his heat beneath fine lawn.
Distantly she thought,I just threw away diamonds!
But her mind was all on him and the fire his mouth, his hands, his body, ignited. She’d wanted this for days—for a lifetime, it seemed—and she couldn’t fight it anymore.
Their mouths slid apart and she explored his jaw, his ear, his throat, his wonderful taste and smell that made her purr deep in her throat.
His cravat. It was in the way.
She jerked out the jeweled pin, tossed it away, tugged loose the knot and discarded the length of silk and precious lace. To unbutton, to kiss, to nuzzle hot skin, to inhale him. Him. The only man to create this ecstasy in her.
He was laughing, murmuring, nuzzling, nibbling.
She dragged his shirt out of his breeches and he stepped back to pull it over his head and discard it.
She held him off with her hands over his flat nipples, letting her eyes feast. “Even to a woman who’s seen many naked chests, yours is remarkable.”
“Is it?” He put his hands to the front of her gown. “And you do not disappoint me,pandolcetta.”
With a rake’s skill he’d loosened her clothes as they kissed. Her gown slid off her arms at his touch, and her loosened petticoats fell to the floor. She was in her stays over her shift, and he stroked up her sides.
“You’re magnificent, Genni.”
“I want to be. For you.”
She wanted to eat him whole, as if starving, but this was good, too. This moment of pulsing restraint.
She stood still as he dug into her hair and found pins, as she felt her hair tumble. He drew fingers through it, flaring it around her shoulders. Then he buried his face in it against her neck, inhaling like a drowning man bursting out of the water.
