“Not so easy now, is it.”
She glared at him from the corner of her eye. Reaching around her neck, she worked off the top buttons to her gown.
John leaned forwards, pressing his elbows into his knees. She wouldn’t take off her entire gown, would she?
She lowered her hands to her mid-back, and the shoulders of her gown sagged, the bodice slipping low over her bosom.
She would. John raised his eyebrows. She did have a competitive streak a mile wide. Well, so did he. Her tease could be turned back upon her.
“Do you have someone at home to help you dress, Netta?”
She opened her mouth, swiveling her gaze to him. And froze.
John stroked the toe of her slipper along the ridge of his hard length.
“Uh…” She licked her bottom lip, her eyes following the slipper’s path. “What was the question again?”
He straightened his leg and thanked his tight pantaloons. They gave Netta a nearly unimpeded view of just what she did to him. Of how much was in store for her. “Do you have someone who takes care of you at home? Someone to peel you from your gown at night? To soap your back, get you clean in all the places you don’t touch.” He exchanged the slipper for his hand, squeezing his aching cock. The image of Netta being attended to by a lady’s maid, in every way a woman should be, just about had him spending in his pants.
Her chest rose and fell, her breath quick. “I have no one to assist me. You know I can’t afford the expense.”
“The row of buttons along your back can’t be easy to undo on your own.” He widened his legs. “Living without a lady’s maid must have made you…flexible.”
She lifted her gaze to meet his. “You have no idea.” And with a little shimmy, her gown dropped to her hips. She pulled one arm free from its sleeve, and the dress lowered another inch.
He muffled a groan. He was going to lose. Lose to this minx. And although a part of him wanted to see how far she could disrobe in his sitting room with that blasted book on her head, a stronger part of him needed to put his mouth on those breasts that heaved with every breath she took.
He needed to fight fire with fire.
He flicked open one of the buttons of his falls.
Netta froze, her eyes swiveling to track his hands.
Lazily, as though he weren’t dying with need, he thumbed another button free from its hole. His smallclothes, and the pulsing cock beneath, tented the remaining fabric.
She yanked at her other sleeve, pushing the gown down her thighs. The book slid again, but she tilted her head further and stopped its descent.
John reached under the front placket and gripped his Thomas. The chemise she wore ended mid-thigh. Her curvy legs were on full display, the dimples above her knees just begging for his tongue to trace them.
Netta swallowed. The skin above her stays was flushed pink. The tips of her nipples pressed against the cotton. Even with her head cocked at an unnatural angle, she looked provocative. Sensuous. Ripe to be ravished.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. She lifted one foot out of her gown and stepped clear. She raised her other foot, but the gown caught on her toes. She shook it, swirled her ankle in a circle, to no avail.
John was moments away from losing, but he couldn’t help but appreciate how her body jiggled delightfully with each movement.
She brought her knee to her abdomen and reached down, trying to unknot the gown from her foot.
The book slid. Netta corrected, tilting her whole body to try to keep it on her head, and with a shriek, she crashed to the floor.
“Hell!” John leapt to his feet and rushed to her side.
She rolled over onto one elbow and shoved her hair from her face. A very dirty word left her pretty mouth.
John’s shoulders sagged. No one could be truly hurt and look that angry.
He grinned. And, her spill meant he won.
“I’ll take that kiss now.”
