“You want me to take the lead?”
I wring my hands again. “Please.”
A gentle smile warms his lips as he places his hand over mine, stilling my anxious motions. “So, we’ve learned something you like already.”
I swallow hard. “I suppose we have.”
Tenderly, he takes one of my hands, brings it to his lips, and brushes a soft kiss over my knuckles. Then he brings his fingers to my neck, dipping them beneath the collar of my coat before he slides it down my shoulders, my arms, letting it fall to the floor at my feet. His hands find mine again, and he guides one behind his neck while pulling the other to his chest. His heart slams against my palm, a rhythm that matches my own. It’s a comforting tempo, lulling me back into my body and out of my head. With my arms remaining where he positioned them, he winds his own behind me, one hand bracing my lower back, the other cradling my neck. He pauses here, holding my eyes as I catch my breath. Then, ever so slowly, he lowers his mouth to mine.
I close my eyes at the warmth of his lips, sinking into the feel of him against me, the strength of his hands pressing me close. He angles his head, and I do the same, deepening our kiss. Without meaning to, I slide my fingers up his neck, into the ends of his hair, much like I did in the north wing. He releases a throaty sound against my mouth, one that has my lips parting. His tongue sweeps in and brushes against mine in a languorous caress. There’s nothing forceful or probing about the way he kisses, unlike my former lovers, Archie included. With William, it feels more like a dance, a conversation. A reaction between ourneeds, our wants. A song and echo. His mouth somehow does exactly what I want it to, our kisses deepening only when I’m ready. Wanting. Silently begging to taste more of him.
His fingers weave into my hair, sending pins falling to the ground. His other hand roves my bottom, and I’m cursing myself for the warm layers of petticoats I wear beneath my dress. I let my hands wander too, one rounding the curve of his shoulder while the other explores the planes of his chest, his torso. His muscles flex against my palm, which sends a thrill through me. I let my hand move lower, down to his waistband. He sucks in a breath, emboldening me. I kiss him harder, move my hand lower, until my palm cups the firm length straining against his trousers.
Bloody hell, it’s a mammoth handful.
And…and it’s straining like that forme. My touch. My kiss. We’re still fully clothed, yet he’s hard for me.
I run my hand further down his bulge and back again, assessing the full scope of what he’s hiding.
He groans, sucking my lower lip between his teeth. So he likes that.
I tighten my grip and stroke his length again.
He releases my lip and pants against my mouth. His hand leaves my neck to linger over the clasps at the back of my dress. His words come out stifled. “How far do you want this to go tonight?”
I pull back slightly, taking in his heavy-lidded eyes, the need written over every inch of his face. “What do you mean?”
His fingers dig into the back seam of my dress. With the flick of his forefinger, my top clasp comes loose. “I can have you out of this dress and spread naked beneath me in ten seconds flat. If you don’t want that, tell me now.”
I suck in a sharp breath at his words, at the images they conjure, at the restraint in his tone.
Pride swells inside me. “You want that?”
“You know damn well I want that,” he says, rocking against my hand to remind me of the proof in my palm. “But if you’re not ready…fuck, just tell me. I’ll hold myself back.”
I’ve never felt so powerful. So desired. So in control. I needed him to take the lead, but now that I’ve found my footing, I don’t want to cede to him. Cede this power.
And as much as I want what he wants, I should leave him yearning for something more to redeem his free pass for.
“Let’s keep our clothes on,” I say, voice breathless. “Just kissing and touching.”
“Can I touch you?”
“Over my clothes,” I say, delighting in his groan of frustration, the way his fingers curl into a fist against my back, fighting not to flick open another clasp. I move my hand up the length of him again, then to his waistband. He bites his lip as I tuck two fingers beneath it. I give him a teasing smile. “Can I touch you?”
His eyes dance with cruel amusement. I can almost see his thoughts on his face; he’s considering denying me the same way I denied him. He blows out a shaky breath before answering me. “This is your free pass. You get to make the rules for what we do.”
“Good.” I press my lips to his again, just as I plunge my hand into his trousers. I suck his lower lip between my teeth, something I’ve never tried before but want to experience now that he’s done it to me. He aids my efforts to untuck his shirt from his trousers, flicking open the top buttons of his fly.
A moan escapes my lips at the feel of his hard flesh fully in my palm. His cock is somehow larger than it felt from the outside. I slide my hand up and down that smooth length. I’m half tempted to cup his testicles like I saw in the north wing, but I’m too afraid he might laugh, shattering the moment. The lastthing I want to do is something he doesn’t like. Not when I have him at my beck and call. Not when he’s panting, moaning?—
“Edwina,” he says through his teeth at the next slide of my hand. “Wait. Fuck.”
He surges against me, his cock pulsing in my palm. He tugs down the hem of his shirt to bury his release, his other hand closing tightly around the length of my hair that’s escaped my updo. It takes me a moment to understand what happened. The reason he’s frozen against me, catching his breath, head thrown back, eyes closed, his muscles quivering.
Then he lowers his head, heavy eyelids fluttering open. I slide my hand from around him, and my gaze drops to the hem of his shirt. My mouth falls open. “You…you came. Because of me. I did that.”
A slow smile melts over his lips, and when he speaks, his voice is rich with mirth and the dregs of desire. “You seem quite pleased with yourself.”
