“I have been given cause for caution,” he replied, his tone only half-joking.
Helena's eyes sparkled with amusement. “Then let us proceed with due diligence.”
She took his hands and guided them to her shoulders. The fabric of her dress felt cool, but the skin beneath was warm. As he pressed his palms against her collarbone, he sensed the tremor that ran through her.
“Do you feel that?” she whispered.
He nodded, unsure whether the shiver came from him or her.
“Good. Now,” she slid his right hand lower to where her dress gathered at the top of her breast, “don’t stop until I tell you.” She drew a steady breath—one, two—choosing it.
He felt, not for the first time in her company, that he teetered on the edge of something uncertain. But he could not stop, trailing his fingertips along her flushed skin, noting her texture, the subtle play of sinew and bone beneath the surface. Helena's eyes never left his face, as if she were judging his progress against some private standard.
“Slower,” she said, her tone more invitation than command.
He complied, mapping her shoulder blade, the hollow at the base of her throat, the faint pulse beneath her jaw. Each time he paused, she corrected him with a murmur or a tilt of her chin, always demanding more. Which only served to make him pause more. It was a thrilling game and he could not indulge enough.
“Your hands,” she said at last, “are very beautiful, but they’re too…” She searched for a word, “controlled. It’s as if you fear what they might do if you let them.”
He swallowed hard. “Perhaps I do.”
She smiled, then intertwined their fingers, pressing their hands to her breast. “I do not.”
Helena’s breasts were soft yet firm, her nipples hard against the thin silk as he took his fill.
Her breath caught, and she squeezed his hand tighter, as if reassuring herself he wouldn’t withdraw.
She released his right hand, letting it roam free. “Explore,” she said, the word nearly undoing him.
He ventured lower, fingertips skimming the valley between her breasts, the heat of her skin intensifying with each inch. She inhaled sharply when he found the tiny hollow beneath her sternum, noting this as another point in the new science of pleasing Lady Fairfax.
“Better,” she whispered, her voice a touch rougher. “I want the rogue.”
He drew lazy circles on her skin, then, flicked his thumb across her hard nipple. Helena exhaled, and for a moment, he thought she might lose her composure. But instead, she surprised him. She slid his hand beneath the silk, guiding his fingers to the edge of her corset, then under, to where her skin was softest and most forbidden.
“Do you know what I like most about you?” she said, her lips almost brushing his ear. “You learn quickly.”
He flushed, desire and pride swelling within him.
She pressed closer, molding her body to his, running her tongue along the seam of his jaw. “Now,” she said, “I want you to remember what you just did. And do it again, slower.”
He obliged, savoring the friction and the way her skin yielded beneath his touch. He circled her nipple with his palm, feeling it stiffen, then risked a gentle pinch. Helena gasped, her head falling back and exposing her throat.
He couldn't resist. He bent and kissed the exposed flesh. She rewarded him with a stifled moan, her hands clutching his back. He pressed harder, encouraged by her response, and soon they were both panting, their bodies locked in a rhythm older than either cared to admit.
She drew back, her eyes glistening. “You see?” she said, her voice low. “You don’t need to be careful with me. I’m not made of glass.”
He cupped her face, brushing a stray hair from her cheek. “I’m not accustomed to?—”
“To being taught?” she finished for him.
He considered for a moment, then smiled, a rare, genuine expression breaking across his face. “No. But I enjoy it.”
Helena laughed softly. “As do I.”
Stepping away, she straightened her dress. At the threshold, she let his fingers graze her wrist—innocent to others but electric to them. With quick motions, she restored her hair and turned to face him, her eyes bright with satisfaction and mischief.
“Very good,” she said, as if grading a pupil. “But there’s more to learn.”
