To her credit, eyes blazing on his, she raised her tankard to her mouth and took a large swallow. Then she coughed, placing it back on the table so firmly that the liquid spilt across the sticky wood. “That’s vile.”
“That’s the spirit,” he said, taking another gulp.
“Do you truly enjoy drinking that?”
“Enjoy is a strong word,” he said. “I suppose it’s all part of an inn’s charm, drinking something that more resembles piss than anything close to human consumption.”
She looked at him appraisingly. “You are more vulgar when in a place like this.”
He winked at her. “Naturally. A man ought to fit in with his surroundings.”
“What about when you’re with your peers in a drawing room? Are you more refined then?”
“I rarely find myself in respectable drawing rooms.”
“How about disrespectable ones?”
“What do you think I was doing in London all that time?” When she looked at him, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and horror, he nudged her knee with his foot. “I mostly spent my time in places such as this. Coffee houses. Gentlemen’s clubs, that sort of thing.”
“Ah,” she said. “You were a degenerate.”
“Has it taken you this long to come to that conclusion? For shame.”
“You can only have yourself to blame.”
“Are you suggesting I have behaved like a gentleman during the entirety of our acquaintance?”
Colour ran up her neck to her cheeks. She was positively delectable when she blushed. “Well,” she said. “Not the entirety of our acquaintance.”
“Mm, can you recall a specific time in particular I was less than gentlemanly?”
“Oliver,” she hissed.
“No one can hear us,” he said, settling back into his chair. “Eat up, then we can retire upstairs.” At the poorly concealed irritation on her face, his grin widened. “Cheer up, darling. Once you have me in your bed, I’m sure you can punish me all you like.”
Her eyes held a thousand promises, and all of them made his blood heat. “Oh don’t you worry,” she said, the words faintly threatening. “I will.”
If Oliver had thought that having kissed Emily several times, he might evernotlose his mind when she kissed him, he would have been very wrong. Of course, some of that could be attributed to the fact he had been aroused for so long. When she met his tongue with hers, he wanted to groan in relief. This was almost too much, and yet he would never have enough.
When did lust become obsession? And how long before he crossed from one to the other?
He suspected he might already have made the leap.
“Where do you want me?” he asked against her mouth. “And how?”
She pushed at his shoulders, forcing him back to the bedposts. “Stand there,” she instructed. “Take off your clothes.”
Wellthishe delighted in. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her cheeks pinked at his immediate subservience. Aware that she was watching him, and with every intention of provoking her interest, he removed his cravat and carefully placed it to one side. Then he unbuttoned his coat, fumbling with the buttons somewhat thanks to his one inoperable hand. After undoing that and his waistcoat, shrugging it from himself a little awkwardly, he contrived to tug his shirt over his head.
All that remained were his breeches.
She watched, chest rising and falling, her eyes tracing across every line of his body.
“Do you like what you see?” he asked, oddly desperate for her answer, her validation. It didn’t matter how he had been received before; he wantedherto approve.
“I do,” she said, her gaze flicking back to his and softening a fraction. “Do you need help with your trousers?”
