“Men,” Godric repeated, moving even closer. “You claim to be a woman grown, capable of making your own decisions. Yet a simple plea for help from a stranger led you to risk your life and honor without a second thought. If you are so easily swayed by compassion, how will you fare against a man who seeks to seduce you?”
Nora's cheeks flamed. “I would not –”
“Would you not?” Godric interrupted. His hand came up to rest on her waist, and Nora felt as though all the air had been sucked from the room. “You would not fall for pretty words and gentle touches? You would not let yourself be led astray by someone who knew how to play on your emotions?”
“No,” Nora said, but her voice came out as barely more than a whisper. “I would not fall so easily.”
“Are you certain?”
Before she could answer, Godric's other hand came up to cup her face, his thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone with devastating gentleness. Nora's eyes fluttered closed despite herself, her body betraying her even as her mind screamed at her to step away.
“Are you certain?” he repeated, his breath warm against her temple. “Because you seem rather easily affected by me.”
“I am not,” Nora insisted, forcing her eyes open to meet his gaze. “I am not so weak-willed.”
“Prove it,” Godric challenged, his hand sliding from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. “Show me how strong your resolve is.”
His lips brushed against her ear, and Nora felt her knees weaken. This was wrong. This was dangerous. This was –
“Your Grace,” she breathed, her hands coming up to rest against his chest. She intended to push him away, she really did, but her treacherous fingers curled into the fabric of his waistcoat instead.
“Yes?” His voice was a low rumble that she felt as much as heard.
“This is – we should not – ”
“Should not what?” His hand traveled lower, settling on the curve of her behind and squeezing lightly. “Should not acknowledge this pull between us? Should not admit that you have been thinking about our kiss as much as I have?”
“I have not – ” she tried to lie, but the words died in her throat when his lips brushed against the sensitive skin of her neck.
“Have you not?” he murmured against her skin. “Then why are you shaking? Why is your heart racing? Why are you clinging to me instead of pushing me away?”
Because she tried as she might, she could not seem to make herself let go. Because his touch had reawakened that thing within her that she did not fully understand. Because every nerve in her body was screaming for more.
“I am not shaking,” she said stubbornly, lips curled into a petulant pout even as another shiver ran through her.
Godric chuckled darkly, the sound sending heat pooling low in her belly. His hand came up to cup her face again, tilting her head back so she was forced to meet his eyes.
“Still so stubborn,” he said, his tone bearing a hint of admiration. “Still refusing to admit defeat.”
His thumb traced the curve of her lower lip, and Nora found herself leaning into the touch despite every rational thought telling her not to.
“Admit it, Nora,” he commanded softly. “Admit that you want this. Admit that you want me.”
Her pride fought with her desire, but it was rapidly losing any place it once had. Her lips parted, ready to confess everything, when Godric's hand slipped beneath the neckline of her dress, his fingers skimming over the curve of her breast.
The sensation ripped a small, involuntary sound from her throat.
“There it is,” Godric murmured approvingly. “There is the truth you have been trying to hide.”
His touch grew bolder, more insistent, as he continued to explore the supple and soft flesh of her bosom at a deliberately slow pace. Nora’s mind had lost the ability to form coherent thoughts, and therefore, words were now impossible as well. Herhead fell back, granting him better access, and she felt his lips curve into a smile against her neck.
“So responsive,” he praised, his thumb brushing over her nipple through the thin fabric of her chemise. “So eager, despite all your protests.”
“Please,” Nora breathed, though she was not entirely sure what she was begging for.
“Please, what?” Godric's other hand was at the fastenings of her dress now, expertly making quick work of the buttons. “Please stop? Please continue? You must be specific, Nora.”
“I – I do not know,” she admitted, her voice breaking.
