He smiled darkly, as if he knew very well that she was all but burning with lust, and he wrapped one hand around the nape of her neck, the other arm around her waist, and guided her backwards through the open door into the conservatory.
His kiss was hot and demanding this time. Her hat came off, followed by her pelisse, as his hands roved over her possessively. “Take down your hair,” he growled, his lips skimming the side of her throat.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, and said, “In my house, I command.”
Lightning seemed to flash in his eyes. His hands dropped away from her, and he stepped back. “I await your orders, madam.”
“Take off your coat.”
He shrugged it off and let it fall.
“And boots.”
Never taking his gaze from her, he sat on the edge of a nearby chaise longue and pulled off his boots. He rose again and waited.
“The waistcoat,” she whispered. Without looking away, he began undoing the buttons.
Evangeline watched for a moment, mesmerized by the way his piercing gaze stayed fixed on her, then realized he was actually going to undress all the way. She darted past him, around the potted palms, to quietly close the door that led to the corridor back into the house and turn the lock. Louis was long gone, no doubt being fussed over by Solly. The rain drummed down without respite on the slate roof above, streaking the tall windows that overlooked her flooded garden. On sunny days, this room was filled with light, but today it felt quiet and isolated.
She returned to her spot before him, where he waited, waistcoat on the cold tile of the floor. She gazed right into his eyes as she pulled loose his cravat. He inhaled as she undid it.
“Do you object?” she asked softly, stripping the cravat away.
“No.”
She glanced at his hands, flexing at his side. “Good. Take off your shirt.”
As he opened the collar and pulled the shirt free of his trousers, she undid a button at the front of her bodice, then another. His eyes focused there, and he went still as she let her gown droop open and caressed the top of her breast.
“The shirt,” she whispered, and he whipped it off and flung it aside. Unbidden, he undid his trousers and stepped out of his remaining garments to stand before her, naked as a babe, but very, very aroused.
Her poise faltered. He stood as tall and bold as if he were fully clothed. God help her, he was just as beautiful naked as she remembered. No wonder her vow to avoid him had fallen by the wayside so quickly. She closed her eyes for a moment. She’d never hadthatmuch discipline.
“What now?” he asked quietly.
“Ah...” She couldn’t get enough of the sight of him. “Kiss me.”
“Very good, madam.” He closed the distance between them in one step. He took both her hands, kissed each one, then clasped them both in his left hand and raised them above her head. His right hand traced down her throat, toward her partially bared breast. “If you wish me to stop,” he breathed, his lips almost on hers, “you have but to say.”
She was trembling. “Don’tstop . . .”
He pressed light, tantalizing kisses over her face and neck while leisurely undoing the rest of her gown with one hand. When the front sagged open, he forced down the front of her stays until her breast was free. She arched into his palm, unabashedly rubbing against him as he fondled her.
“Exquisite,” he murmured, rolling the nipple between his fingers.
“Show me,” she gasped, writhing. He wasnaked,pressed against her, and she was rapidly regretting taking control. He was obviously paying her back with this relentless, patient, torture.
He bent and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard until she moaned. His tongue stroked over her flesh, up, under, over.
“Hold,” he whispered, drawing her hands down and pressed them into fabric. Her skirt, she realized in a daze, which he had rucked up without her even noticing. Clumsily she gripped the fabric, and his hand slid neatly between her thighs, stroking right up to the slit in her pantalets.
“There,” he murmured, his fingers sliding through the wet folds, teasing her. “Here.” He curved two fingers inside her and did something that made her surge onto her toes and give a high-pitched gasp. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his lips against her ear.
“That,” she sobbed.“More.”
“What else?” His thumb was circling, stroking, and her legs were shaking. A tear ran down her cheek.
With terrific effort she forced herself to focus, to look him in the eye. “Take me.”
